CHAPTER 010: NOT YET!
1136 Words
JADA
The silence that followed those two words felt heavy enough to choke the breath right out of my lungs.
Not yet.
Zayden stood frozen in the hallway, his face draining of color until he looked almost pale under the bright lights. His hands were clenched so tightly into fists that his knuckles cracked in the quiet.
I knew Horace had said it entirely to twist the knife, to humiliate his own son for forcing his way up to this floor, but my body didn't care about their power struggle. Before my pride could step in and stop it, my heart slammed against my ribs, a sudden, hot flush creeping up the back of my neck.
Zayden looked completely small, his pride utterly wrecked by a man who didn't even have to raise his voice. I should have felt uncomfortable standing between them like a piece of disputed property, but instead, a cold, sharp spark of satisfaction flared deep in my chest. For the first time since I woke up with a blank mind, Zayden was the one who had completely lost control of the room.
He snapped out of his daze, pushing past his father and stepping directly into my suite. He looked at the bed, then down at me, his chest heaving under his heavy team hoodie.
“Pack your things,” Zayden said, his voice raw and shaking with a desperate sort of anger. “You’re leaving. With me right now!”
I didn't move an inch.
“Where exactly do you plan to take me, Zayden?” I kept my arms crossed over my silk robe, staring at him from the doorway. “To Mila’s apartment? Back to your team hotel? Or maybe just back to that perfect little life where everyone ignores me until you need someone to blame for your mistakes?”
“This isn't about Mila,” he barked, his eyes darting toward the hallway where Horace stood watching us.
“You kissed her in my hospital room.” My voice climbed, sharp enough to cut through whatever calm he was trying to fake. “You dragged her through my burned apartment while I stood there with nothing. You hung up on me while I was being kidnapped. It has been about Mila from the second I woke up, Zayden.”
Zayden flinched, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to find a defense. He took a shallow breath, his tone dropping. “You don't understand, Jada. You don't remember our history. It’s complicated.”
“Then explain it to me,” I said, stepping further into the room so I could look him dead in the eye. “Explain it right now without calling me crazy or dramatic. Or saying I'm a lunatic! I am listening.”
Zayden shifted his weight, his eyes dropping to the floor safe evidence box on the dresser. He couldn't do it. He didn't have the words because the truth was exactly what I thought it was.
“It doesn't matter,” Zayden muttered, reaching out toward me again. “You’re my fiancée, Jada. You belong with me, not hiding out here.”
“She is not your fiancée,” Horace’s deep voice cut through the space from the doorway. He stepped into the suite, his massive frame instantly making the room feel smaller, darker, and completely heavy with tension.
He didn't look at Zayden; he kept his shimmering grey-green eyes fixed on me. “The engagement was a public arrangement designed to secure your league image, Zayden.” Horace said, voice flat, almost bored. “It was never a private commitment, and you made that entirely clear the moment you left her to the fire.”
A cold, sickening weight dropped into my stomach.
I looked between the two of them, my skin turning icy as the realization settled in. Both of these men knew every single detail about my own relationship, while I was standing here completely blind, piecing together my life from charcoal and rumors. They knew who I was, and they had kept the truth from me to suit their own agendas.
I turned my head slowly toward Zayden, my voice dropping all its anger, leaving only a tired coldness. “Did you ever actually want to marry me, Zayden?”
Zayden hesitated. His eyes flicked to his father, then back to my face, his jaw working as he searched for a safe answer.
That single second of hesitation was all the answer I needed.
“Things were just… they were complicated with the team contracts,” he mumbled.
“That,” I said, “is a coward’s favorite sentence.”
Zayden’s jaw ticked.
His face twisted in a sudden flash of pure frustration. He stepped forward blindly, his hand snapping out to grab my left wrist. He locked his fingers around my hand, his thumb digging hard into my skin as he tried to violently pull his heavy diamond ring off my swollen finger himself.
The sudden, brutal tug sent a sharp, agonizing jolt of pain straight up my arm, tearing through the raw skin near my bandages.
“Ahh…ah…ahh! Ouch! Stop it…” I gasped, the air leaving my lungs completely as the pain forced me to fold forward, my knees nearly giving out under the weight of my robe.
Horace moved before Zayden could even realize what he had done. He crossed the distance instantly, his large hand slamming hard against Zayden’s chest and shoving him backward with enough force to send him stumbling into the heavy dresser.
At the same moment, Horace’s other arm came around my waist, his muscled forearm locking securely against my ribs to catch me before I hit the floor.
“Touch her again without her permission,” Horace whispered, the words vibrating through his chest right against my shoulder, “and I will completely forget that you are my son.”
The entire room changed in an instant, the air turning completely still and frozen. Zayden stayed pressed against the dresser, his breath hitching as he stared at his father with a look of genuine fear.
I was pressed flush against Horace’s side, my face buried near his shoulder where the intense scent of his expensive soap and whiskey filled my senses, sending my pulse into a frantic, chaotic rhythm.
I was aware of his hand supporting my waist, the heat of his skin burning right through the thin silk of my robe. I stayed there, breathing hard against his chest, until the throbbing in my finger finally began to dull.
Only after I managed to steady my feet on the floor did his grip slowly loosen, his fingers sliding away from my waist, leaving a lingering chill where his hand had just been. “Jada…are you okay?”
- Writer
