DANGEROUS TEMPTATION

CHAPTER FOUR: A Meeting

Zara’s POV

The house felt too quiet when I heard my father’s car pull up in the driveway.

For a second, I thought maybe this time would be different. His suitcase stood by the door, his coat still damp from the rain. For a brief moment, it almost looked like he belonged here again. But even as he smiled faintly at me, his phone started buzzing in his hand.

“Give me a minute, Zara,” he said, and disappeared into his study.

A minute turned into an hour.

By the time he finally came out, the house smelled like dust and leftover takeout. He looked tired but sharp, his tie loosened, his hair perfectly in place. That was my father, always put together, always halfway gone.

He called me into the dining room and told me to sit. A meeting, he said. He never used words like that with me. Not “talk” or “catch up.” Always “meeting.”

He sat across from me, flipping through a folder before setting it aside.

“I’ll be traveling again,” he said, tone casual, almost bored. “Australia this time. Twelve months.”

Twelve freaking months!

I blinked. My throat went dry. “Ten months?” I repeated, even though he’d already said it clearly. “Why would you be gone for twelve months? I know it’s business but why that long? It’s always been a two-week, one-month trip.”

He nodded, sipping water as if we were discussing the weather. “It’s a big contract. I’ll need to oversee things personally.”

I tried to nod, tried to act like it was normal. Like it didn’t make my chest tighten. But I couldn’t hold it in this time.

“That’s the longest you’ve ever been gone,” I said quietly. “You were just gone for six.”

He looked at me, his face unreadable. “You’ll manage. You always do.”

Something in me broke then. The polite smile, the careful silence I always wrapped myself in, it all cracked open.

“Manage?” My voice trembled. “That’s all I ever do, isn’t it? You’re never here. You miss everything. You missed my sixteenth birthday, you didn’t even call, and now you’re leaving again.”

He stayed still, his expression barely changing.

“I sent you a gift,” he said finally.

I let out a weak laugh. “A necklace through your assistant. You didn’t even sign the card.”

He sighed, rubbing a hand across his face. “Zara, you’re being unreasonable.”

“No, I’m being honest,” I shot back. “You don’t even try anymore. You just show up, pretend for a day, and leave like nothing happened.”

The words tumbled out before I could stop them. Every thought I’d swallowed for years came spilling out, raw and bitter.

He just watched me. No anger, no guilt, just silence.

When he finally spoke, his voice was cool. “You don’t understand how things work. This is for us. For you. I’m doing what I have to.”

“For me?” I asked, shaking my head. “You don’t even know me.”

The silence that followed felt heavy enough to choke on. He adjusted his cufflinks, like the conversation had already ended in his mind.

“I’ve made arrangements,” he said after a moment. “While I’m gone, Silas will be checking in on you.”

I froze.

“What?”

“He’ll keep an eye on you,” he continued. “Make sure you’re safe. He owes me a few favors.”

“Silas Massimo?” I whispered.

He nodded like it was nothing.

I tried to process it, but all I could think about was that night in the car. The rain. His voice. The way he’d looked at me for a second too long.

My father pushed his chair back, already glancing toward his buzzing phone. “We’ll talk again before I leave.”

No, we wouldn’t. We both knew that.

He stood and left the room, his footsteps fading down the hall. I sat there long after he was gone, staring at the empty chair across from me. My hands trembled a little. I hated how small I felt, how childish.

By morning, he was gone.

No goodbye. No note. Just silence and the faint smell of his cologne lingering in the hall. The suitcase that had sat by the door last night was missing, and the driver’s car tracks were still wet in the driveway. It was so typical of him, leaving quietly, like absence was easier than goodbye.

Ten months. He hadn’t even been home for ten hours.

I thought about all the birthdays he’d missed, all the nights I’d stayed up waiting for headlights that never showed. I thought about that stupid necklace still sitting in my drawer, still in its box.

I wanted to hate him for it. For leaving again. For not seeing how much it hurt. But mostly, I just felt tired.

***

It got dark so fast before I could realize.

I lay on my bed scrolling through my phone, pretending I wasn’t waiting for a message that would never come. The ceiling fan hummed softly above me, the air heavy with the faint smell of rain from the open window.

My mind kept circling back to one name.

Silas.

I didn’t know how to feel about him anymore. He was quiet, unreadable, the kind of man you couldn’t look away from even when you wanted to. The thought of him being around, checking in, watching, made something strange twist in my chest.

Curiosity. Nervousness. Maybe something else.

I called my name, trying to snap out of it. I shouldn’t be thinking about him. He’s my father’s best friend.

I turned my phone face down, trying to sleep, but the house felt too empty, too still. Every sound echoed. Every tick of the clock reminded me that he’d be gone soon.

Then I heard it.

A low hum outside.

At first, I thought it was thunder, but it wasn’t. It was the sound of a car engine, steady and deep.

I sat up slowly, my heart pounding.

It grew louder, closer.

Headlights swept across my window, cutting through the darkness of my room.

I slipped out of bed and went to the window, fingers gripping the curtain. The car idled just outside the gate, its engine soft but commanding, the kind of sound that pulled your attention without asking.

My breath caught in my throat as I watched the sleek black car sit there in the rain, waiting.

Then a tall figure rose from the car, walking towards the front door.

The door opened and it was …