Zayne’s POV
I leaned back in the chair slowly, fingers pressing into my temples as if pressure alone could force something loose inside my skull.
Come on. Think.
The office blurred into silence, still nothing. Just irritation boiling over. I had spent hours staring at the same image.
Brown eyes. Serious expression. A faint crease between his brows like he was always thinking three steps ahead.
Somewhere. I knew him somewhere. My jaw tightened. I closed my eyes and forced myself backwards.
Italy.
Hospitals.
Old meetings.
Galas.
Therapy sessions.
Elena.
The name slipped through my thoughts like smoke. And suddenly, a flicker. Not clear or whole, just a sensation. Soft laughter echoing in a bright room. A hand brushing mine. Elena’s voice.
“He’s just my driver.”
The memory sn
