Chapter Eight: Dangerous Questions
726 Words
Morning sunlight streamed through the tall windows, but Zara barely noticed it. She hadn’t slept at all. The events of the night before replayed in her mind like a broken record.
The secret conversation, Adrian’s cold words about her purpose, and the mention of a “shipment.”
She knew she shouldn’t have been there. But now that she had, there was no going back.
A soft knock at the door made her jump.
It opened slightly, and one of the maids entered carrying a tray of breakfast. “Good morning, madam,” the girl said politely.
“Where’s Mr. King?” Zara asked, her voice hoarse from lack of sleep.
The maid hesitated. “In his study, madam. He asked not to be disturbed.”
Zara clenched her jaw. “I need to see him.”
“Madam—”
“Now.”
The girl swallowed nervously, set down the tray, and hurried out.
Zara threw on a light robe over her nightgown and stormed out of the room. She no longer cared about rules, restrictions, or Mrs. Collins’ icy glares.
She had questions — and Adrian would answer them.
The mansion’s halls were quiet, the staff deliberately avoiding her gaze as she made her way to the study. Two guards stood by the heavy wooden doors.
“I need to speak with him,” Zara said, her voice sharper than she expected.
The guards exchanged a glance but didn’t move.
“I said move,” she snapped, surprising even herself.
A tense moment passed before one of them opened the door. Zara marched inside without waiting for permission.
Adrian was seated behind a massive oak desk, dressed in a crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled up, his attention on a set of documents. He didn’t look up as she entered.
“I thought I made it clear you weren’t to barge in here,” he said coldly.
Zara slammed the door shut behind her.
“I heard you last night.”
That got his attention.
Adrian slowly looked up, his icy gaze meeting hers. A flicker of something — annoyance, perhaps — crossed his face.
“You were in the west wing?” he asked, his voice dangerously soft.
Zara lifted her chin. “I heard everything, Adrian. About the shipment. About my so-called purpose. You don’t even pretend to care about hiding it.”
Adrian’s eyes narrowed. He stood, coming around the desk to face her. He was taller, intimidating, but Zara refused to shrink back.
“You were warned about the west wing,” he said, his voice low.
“I’m not a prisoner,” she shot back.
A humorless smile curved his lips. “You’re whatever I need you to be.”
Zara’s stomach twisted.
“I won’t be a part of whatever illegal business you’re running,” she said, her voice shaking but firm. “I agreed to this marriage to help my family, not to get involved in crimes.”
Adrian’s expression darkened. “You agreed to my terms, Zara. All of them. I don’t owe you explanations.”
“Then maybe I should go to the authorities,” she snapped, bluffing.
Adrian chuckled coldly. “Go ahead. Tell them what, exactly? That you married a billionaire under a contract for money? That you signed non-disclosure agreements? You’d be arrested before you reached the gates.”
Her throat went dry.
He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a cold whisper. “You don’t understand the kind of man I am, Zara. I don’t tolerate betrayal.”
“I’m not afraid of you,” she lied, though her racing heart betrayed her.
A tense silence stretched between them.
Then, Adrian exhaled. “You’re brave, I’ll give you that.”
He turned away, grabbing a decanter of whiskey and pouring a glass.
“You’ll forget whatever you thought you heard last night,” he said. “For your own good. And for your family’s safety.”
Zara’s blood ran cold.
Was that a threat?
Before she could respond, he waved a hand dismissively. “Get out.”
But this time, as Zara left the room, she knew one thing for certain — she wasn’t going to be a passive pawn anymore.
She would find out what Adrian King was hiding.
And she would take back control of her life.
[To Be Continued
- Writer
