Zayne’s POV
It was now 07:46. One minute had passed since I extracted my arm from her weak grip. I could still feel the fine silk of her evening dress beneath my fingertips, the faint heat of her skin. The smell of cold coffee and exhaustion that clung to her was oddly attractive, a scent of industry and pure effort that ignited something primal in me. I did not move for perhaps three full minutes after telling Miss Daleman she was secure in her employment.
I was fully dressed, ready for the eight thirty calls that should have been taking place in London, but were postponed until we arrived in New York. I had been ready since 04:00, pacing the confines of my own quarters. Insomnia was not a condition for me anymore, it was a state of being. I rarely slept more than 30 minutes, a fact I t
