CHAPTER THREE: The Silent Weight
1222 Words
Zayn’s POV
I gritted my teeth at the sight of the text. The phone slipped away from my hand and hit the desk with a dull thud. The screen faded, but the words that I'd seen kept echoing in my head. My chest felt tight, as if someone had tied it with a rope and pulled it once before releasing it. I pressed my palm against the wood surface, holding myself until the pressure let up.
I looked up, and Brooklyn’s eyes pressed on me.
“What was that?” she asked, almost commanding.
Her eyes were too sharp for her age. It was steady. Too steady, like she was looking for cracks or a way to get to me.
“It's nothing you need to be concerned about,” I said, flat and dismissive.
But I knew the pause I gave before I spoke gave me away. She tilted her head to the side, studying me like a puzzle.
“Well, it must have been something else, you wouldn't be pale.” She blinked
“I don't get shaken.”
That was a lie.
I do get shaken, but I'll be damned if I let her crack me open.
The air in my lungs was restricted; they didn't move as I wanted them to. A sharp ache in my chest made me want to sit back down, but I forced myself to stand where I was.
“What are you so afraid of?” She crossed her arms, pushing me.
My jaw clenched. I should've shut her up and told her to keep her place, but she was too stubborn to be ignored.
“Remember what you're here for. Sign the contract and save your family.” She widened her eyes as I spoke. “And follow the rules, my rules.”
“Oh, so I'm going to be your...wife,” she hesitated. “And can't even say what's on my mind?”
Every word that she spoke kept pushing me to the wall.
“Follow the rules,’’ I growled.
“And what if I don't want to?”
The silence stretched. My chest kicked again, the pain spiking up. I hid it by moving, walking toward the window. The city glowed below, skyscrapers and headlights streamlined. I focused on that view until the sensation faded away.
The silence was broken when she scraped her chair behind me.
“You think you scare me, but you don't, Zayn,” she said, her tone reckless.
I turned back slowly to her. “I don't expect fear from you, Brooklyn. I expect respect.”
She let out a soft laugh. “Respect isn't earned from contracts, Zayn,” emphasizing my name.
Her words hit harder than they should. My teeth gritted. I lifted two fingers to my wrist, checking my pulse. Too fast, too hard.
A knock sliced the silence.
The door opened before I could give her a response. It was Walter. He walked in as sharp as ever, his tone calm but sharp, “Mr. Macario, the chairman has requested an abrupt response at his estate.”
His words dropped like a bomb.
Vincent Macario, the chairman of this enterprise, needed my attention urgently; what could be the issue?
I didn't move right away; Walter's eyes flicked to me, waiting.
“Tell him I'll be there shortly,” I said.
Walter nodded once and turned to leave.
“Walter.’’
He turned back to me at the sound of my voice.
“Arrange a car by 7pm to take...Her,” I hesitated, forcing the words out. “To my penthouse.”
“Affirmative.” He left finally.
“Who was the chairman, and why are you getting rid of me so quickly?” She stood up, moving close to me. “Am I...bothering you?”
She knew what she was doing. She wanted to see me break character, to unleash my anger at her so she could press charges on me for abuse. But I knew more than that.
“I'm not going to play your silly games, and none of my business matters is your concern, understood?”
“Oh... of course I understand. I'm supposed to go by your rules, breathe your air, and never ask questions.” She let out a small laugh of disbelief.
“Knowledge is power,” I said, walking back to my desk. “And power gets people killed.’
Her eyes narrowed. “So what you’re trying to say is that I stay blind and oblivious?”
“You’re supposed to survive.”
The words slipped out of my mouth before I could stop them. For a second there, something flickered across her face, like she almost believed that I cared. She shook it off immediately when she noticed I was studying her, folding her arms tighter.
“Your world sounds so pathetic.” She muttered.
Ignored her, but the edge of her voice stayed with me. I lowered myself into the chair again, opening the folder she slammed shut earlier. My eyes skimmed over the clauses, but the words blurred. I could still feel that pressure in my chest. It was faint but still present.
She leaned forward, her elbows on her knees. “You know, for a man who is supposed to be untouchable, you look rather vulnerable. Like.. off.’’
My eyes cut to hers.
“I’m fine,” I said flatly.
Her mouth curved into a slight smirk. “You keep saying that, but your pale face says otherwise.”
I wanted to snap back at her, to remind her of her place. But her words were true, and they pressed close to me. Too close.
Her big round doe eyes pressed harder.
The clock on the wall ticked louder than it usually would. I needed to get to the chairman’s estate before he crucifies me.
I shut the folder and pushed it back to her. “Sign this now.”
Her eyes darted towards me, burning like a volcano waiting to burst.
She pressed the ink hard against the paper, almost tearing it. She handed it back to me afterwards.
I stared at where she etched her signature and looked back at her with a grin on my face. I shut the folder and leaned back. “Your driver will be here any moment to come fetch you. Be on your best behavior when you get back to the penthouse. Maria would direct you to your room.”
“I’m a young woman, not a kid,” she echoed.
A knock broke the awkward silence once more.
“Mrs. Way...Macario.” Walter corrected. “Your driver is here.”
“Thank you, Walter. She’ll be right out with you,” I answered.
Brooklyn frowned but didn't argue even though it was written all over that she wanted to. She stood, arms still crossed, and walked towards the door.
Her sneakers squeaked as she turned and walked away.
I pressed a hand to my chest and took a deep breath. I steadied myself enough to make me stand upright. Vincent was waiting, and he never liked to wait.
Another text message flashed on my screen.
“Mr. Macario, we need you to come in to review your results. Sooner rather than later.”
The message read.
That sharp pain pressed once more….
- Writer
