Every single time her father opened his mouth, he gave me another reason to fight for her. To pursue her. To bring her back where she belonged...beside me.
My Eva never had a childhood. Not a real one. Not the kind filled with warmth and laughter. She lived in the shadows of fear, caged by rules that crushed her spirit.
No matter what she did, it was never enough. No matter how hard she tried, she was never acknowledged. And when she made the smallest mistake that old hag made sure she paid for it.
She grew up in hell.
Back when we were dating, there were days she'd come to me with an eye patch, bruises shadowing her arms, her shoulders. She always wore turtlenecks, not because she liked them, but because she had to hide the evidence. And sometimes, she wouldn't even try. Sometimes, she would break into my arms, sobbing so hard it shattered something inside me. She wanted to get out. She wanted to escape. But she couldn't.
After two years of dating, I proposed. And she said yes without a moment's hesitation. That 'yes' wasn't just about me. It was her escape, her lifeline. And in that moment, I wasn't just the happiest man alive because she agreed to be my wife. I was happy because I could finally give her freedom.
My family knew what she had endured. They welcomed her with open arms. Lyra and Eva became inseparable, like sisters more than in-laws who had known each other forever-shopping, laughing, roaming the city without fear. My parents loved her like she was their own daughter, making up for every bit of love she had been denied.
And Roman... he always told me that Eva changed me. That because of her, I finally let my guard down, finally started to live. Before Eva, I was closed off, indifferent to the world. But after her? I became someone who actually resembled a normal human being.
She wasn't just my love. She was my redemption.
"I want her back. I already told her. I want to remarry her," I said, arms crossed, my voice leaving no room for doubt.
Roman sighed, his face on my laptop screen a portrait of sheer exhaustion. "God, Zayne, let the divorce papers breathe."
I knew he was tired of this, tired of me, but I didn't care. I wouldn't care. So I ignored him. I had no patience for his exhaustion, no time for his sarcasm.
I had been on a Skype call with my mom. Three weeks away from LA had been long enough for her to demand a check-in. Roman had decided to crash it, and now here we were.
"He just wants his love back. What's so wrong with that, Roman?" my mother said, ruffling his hair like he was still a child.
Roman rolled his eyes, unamused. "You know what he did. How can you still support him, Mom?"
"I'm not. I'm telling this because I'm used to your father's some... tendencies."
"You're still not convincing me, Mom." Roman deadpan.
"In love, there are no rights or wrongs. He loved her in his own twisted way, and it ended in disaster. That doesn't mean I support what he did. He needs to control his impulsive, destructive urges."
A quiet scolding, masked as wisdom.
My father always told me that I inherited a lot from him. Not just his looks but some dark and twisted shenanigans. I didn't know what kind of things he told me about. Even if I asked that to my mom, she just brushed it off and told me, "You are already doing without knowing anything. If you know about it, you'll turn LA upside down. So, no."
Roman huffed. "You should be grateful Eva chose to file for divorce instead of poisoning your food. Lyra wouldn't have hesitated for even a second. She'd feed me with her own hands and sleep next to me like a baby until the morning, watching me die." He watched me through the camera, unimpressed and waiting for a reaction.
I scoffed. "Hey, I couldn't hold back, okay? You would've done the same if you were in my shoes."
"No," he deadpanned. "I would've called the cops and handled it like a rational adult. You, on the other hand, turned that guy's life into a living hell. You broke both his hands, both his legs-every single goddamn finger-because he touched Eva inappropriately."
Roman paused, daring me to deny it.
But I wouldn't. I couldn't.
"That's my wife," I said as my voice dropped. "No one touches what's mine-"
Roman's hand shot up, silencing me. "And that wasn't even the first time."
I clenched my jaw, my thoughts a tangled mess of rage and conviction. "I can't let another man put his hands on her without consequences." I admitted quietly. "I don't want her to suffer anymore of this manhandling and..."
The words swallowed by the weight of my past and the things she endured.
And deep down, I knew that Eva had already suffered enough.
"Enough. Both of you." My mother cut off our bickerins. "I called him to check on him, Roman. Why are you dragging up the past?" She smacked his shoulder lightly, a reprimand wrapped in affection.
Roman rolled his eyes, exhaling as he pushed himself up from the couch. "Just keep me updated on the project. And don't spend all your time ogling Eva at her office," he warned with dry amusement before he walked away from the camera.
I huffed, pouting slightly at his words, not that I planned on keeping anything about Eva to myself.
"Don't pout," my mother scolded, her eyes narrowing through the screen. "And for once, listen to your brother."
I sighed but relented. "See you, Mom. I'm going to see my son." I waved a lazy hand in front of the camera, eager to escape the conversation.
"Yeah, yeah," she muttered, then softened. "Bring them here, Zayne. It's been years since I've seen them in person."
I stiffened. Of course, she would insist. Just like my father had. They could have told her themselves, but no, they left it to me, the perfect sacrificial lamb, the one who'd take the full brunt of her wrath. They played safe while I stood in the fire.
I exhaled through my nose, resigned. "Okay, Mom. See ya. Love you."
And with that, I ended the call, shaking off the weight of their expectations as I went to find the one person who mattered most-my son.
I closed the laptop, but the moment I did, my mind betrayed me-flashing memories of the kiss at the farm, pulling me under like a relentless tide. My body sank into the mattress, my gaze locking onto the ceiling as the past unraveled before me.
The way her eyes fluttered shut, the way she gasped, the way her body burned against mine, soft and intoxicating. The way her fingers threaded through my hair, like she was meant to be there, like I was meant to be hers.
She was a goddess incarnate, designed to steal my breath every time she came close.
Why couldn't anyone understand? Why did no one see that I just wanted my wife back?
Maybe I should burn the damn divorce papers. Set them ablaze, let the ashes whisper to the universe what my lips couldn't.
I'd spend every last cent to undo this to rewrite our story.
God, I want my Eva back.
My Porsche purred to a stop at the curb in front of Eva's house. The engine cut off, and for a moment, silence stretched between me and the inevitable.
I stepped out, locked the car, and walked up to her door.
Would she give me another kiss if I asked? Or should I take it like I did last time? Would she slap me if I did? She wasn't immune to my charms. To this pull between us. So, the chances were low. But not impossible.
I pressed the doorbell. Once.
Then again.
And again. Again. Again. My finger hovered, restless, aching.
The door swung open with force. "Who the fuck-?"
Her gaze met mine.
I grinned.
She exhaled sharply, crossing her arms, her irritation barely contained. "Can't you act like an adult for once?"
I leaned in, drinking in the sight of her, the scent of her. "Can you blame me?" My voice dropped to a sultry whisper. "I wanted to see you as soon as possible."
She glared, leaning back as if space could sever the gravity between us.
It never could. It never would.
"Stay away from me," she stated.
I smirked, tilting my head as if amused by the very idea. "You asked me if I wanted a daughter. If I stay away from you, how exactly do you think we'll ever have one? Daughters... for your old bastard," I mused, shrugging nonchalantly.
Her glare deepened. "I didn't mean it like that," she muttered, but as I stepped forward, she instinctively took a step back.
"Asher's not home. The nanny took him to the park. Get out. Or go to the park." she dismissed me, her tone firm, yet there was an edge to it. An unspoken tension that ignited something within me.
I exhaled a slow breath, a wicked grin tugging at my lips. "Why am I finding this so inviting?"
Before she could react, my hand shot out, fingers wrapping around her wrist in a swift, possessive strike. In one pull, she was against my chest, her breath hitching at the sudden proximity.
Her palm pressed between us, a feeble attempt at resistance. "What?" she whispered, eyes wide, unsure whether to fight or surrender.
"Asher's not home," I repeated. "We're alone. We could use this time to be... productive." I let the smirk play on my lips, watching as the meaning settled into her mind.
Her eyes burned with defiance, but her words remained the same. "Stay away from me," she warned again, as if repetition could carve distance between us, as if those words held power over me.
Nah!
My arms encircled her, pulling her flush against me, claiming the space she so desperately tried to create. I dipped my head, my breath teasing the shell of her ear as my voice dropped to a whisper.
"My little tigress," I murmured, the name rolling off my tongue like silk and sin. "You kissed me like you couldn't breathe without me... and now you want to push me away? How cruel of you. A soul is aching desperately, yearns for just a touch, a mere graze, and yet... you want me gone? Too harsh."
I traced my tongue along the curve of her earlobe, savoring the way her body shuddered against mine.
"Zayne... stop..." she breathed. It was barely more than a plea, her resistance weakening by the second.
I sighed, scooping her up into my arms with ease. "You're not listening to me, are you?" My voice was laced with quiet amusement, but my grip was anything but.
"Zayne, what are you doing?" Her eyes widened, panic flickering in their depths as she struggled against me. A futile attempt. My hold only tightened, as if daring her to resist further.
"To be honest, I want you," I admitted as I pushed the bedroom door open, stepping inside with unwavering intent. "And if that's not enough for you, I'm hard, and I want my wife to take care of that." With a kick, the door shut behind us, sealing us in.
Her face flushed a delicious shade of crimson. So fucking delectable.
I set her down on the bed. She sat up, but my hand pressed against her chest, pushing her back onto the mattress with ease.
"Stay," I commanded. And just like that, she obeyed.
"Zayne..." She swallowed hard. "We shouldn't do this. Fuck, you shouldn't do this to me."
Her words barely registered, drowned beneath the heavy beat of my own desire. My fingers worked at the buttons of my shirt, my gaze never straying from her, tracking every rise and fall of her chest, every tremor in her lips.
The last button came undone, and I shrugged off my shirt, letting it fall to the floor in a forgotten heap. Then, the sharp metallic sound of my belt buckle echoed through the quiet room as I unfastened it, slow and deliberate.
"Zayne-"
I cut her off with a single word.
"Shh." I leaned in, gaze burning into hers. "Be a good girl... and take whatever I'm about to give you."
My hands gripped the collar of her shirt, pushing it open with ruthless intent. I had no patience for slow, torturous games today. She gasped, her instincts kicking in as her hands flew up to shield her exposed skin, but I was faster. I caught her wrists and pinned them above her head, locking her beneath me.
"Zay-"
Her protest was swallowed whole as my lips crashed onto hers, silencing every objection before it could fully form. She resisted, her lips pressed into a stubborn, thin line. It almost made me laugh. How long was she going to keep up this act?
My tongue traced the seam of her lips, coaxing, teasing, demanding. She fought, just for a few seconds exactly as I expected. And then, as inevitable as the tide, she gave in. Even before my estimated time. That was fast.
Her lips parted, granting me the access I sought. I dove in, claiming her, tasting her like she was my last meal. Our tongues tangled, a war waged in slow, heated strokes. Submission and dominance clashing in the space between us.
My body hovered over hers, molding her beneath me, the heat between us turning suffocating. My free hand traced down her side, my fingers dragging over her skin with deliberate slowness as I devoured her mouth.
When I finally pulled away, we were both breathless, our lungs desperate for air. Her chest rose and fell in heavy waves, her wide eyes locked onto mine, her face flushed a delicate shade of red. All from a single kiss.
She was always like this.
Eva only fought me when I was at arm's length, but the moment I got close she was done for. Her body surrendered, betraying her, answering me before her mind could even process what was happening.
I let my lips graze her jaw.
"Call that nanny. Tell her to bring Asher home... at least two hours later."
Releasing one of her hands, I reached for her phone on the bedside table, placing it in her palm. She hesitated, her fingers curling around it slowly, her eyes flickering between me and the screen.
I leaned in, brushing my lips over the shell of her ear.
"Now, Eva."
Eva punched in the numbers with hesitant fingers, her breath uneven as she hit the call button. The line connected after a few rings.
"Yes, Miss Laurent?" The nanny's voice filtered through the speaker.
Eva's gaze locked onto mine for a fleeting second before she tore it away, as if looking at me would unravel whatever resistance she had left.
"Grace... can you take Asher home... umm... a bit later?" Her lips trembled, laced with hesitation.
I smirked, watching her flustered state like a predator toying with its prey. Leaning down, I let my lips wander over the smooth column of her neck, peppering slow, teasing kisses along her jaw, her ear, breathing her in. She smelled just like Eva. The same old scent that I remembered. The scent that had been burned into my soul, the scent I had starved for.
"May I ask why, ma'am? Is there a problem?" The nanny's voice crackled through the speaker, her concern evident.
I rolled my eyes. Was it so difficult to just say, "Yes, ma'am," and hang up?
Eva swallowed hard. "No... not a problem. It's just..." Her words faded into nothing, hesitation thick in the air.
"Should I come home now?" The nanny's tone shifted, wary now.
Eva tried again. "No, Grace. Just bring Asher home a bit later."
I nuzzled into her neck, letting my lips brush against her pulse as I whispered, "Not a bit. Two hours."
Eva's hand shot up and smacked my back in reprimand, but it was weak, playful even.
I Chuckled. Cute.
"But ma'am... I only get paid for an hour," the nanny interjected, oblivious to the tension thrumming in the air.
That was it. My patience snapped.
Snatching the phone from Eva's grip, I pressed it against my ear, my tone leaving no room for argument.
"I'll triple your wage. Just come back with Asher two hours later."
Then, without waiting for a response, I ended the call and tossed the phone aside, letting it land somewhere on the bed.
Eva's chest rose and fell, her lips parted as she stared at me.
"Problem solved," I murmured, my fingers tracing down her arm, my smirk deepening. "Now, Where were we?"
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