Page 7 of King of Ashes
He clears his throat, lost in thought. “I’ve been, yes.”
“What happened?” I ask as my palms lower on his chest. His heart thumps under my touch, and mine pounds in response.
“She forgot me.” Such sorrow laces his voice that it tugs at my heartstrings.
I feel my brows furrow. “Who would forget you?”
The corner of his mouth arches up in a small smile before he spins me as if to make me forget, but I can’t allow myself to forget anything more.
“What truly happened?”
“She died.”
I trip over my feet, but he’s there to catch me, and I can’t believe we share the loss of loved ones. Our eyes meet, and the past disappears, the future becomes irrelevant. Nothing matters beyond this moment when our souls share a conversation of their own.
“I’m thinking of marrying,” I say, licking my lips that are suddenly dry.
His hold on me tightens, his brows creasing, and I blurt out, “Like a mutually beneficial arrangement. I loved and lost once. I wish to avoid repeating that experience.”
“You don’t say.” His voice turns colder. “So, anyone would do?”
“Yes,” I say in a daze, but the instant the word is out, I realize it’s a lie.
“Good luck then.”
Vian leaves me staring after him in the middle of the dance floor. For a moment, his back turned to me reminds me of the mystery guy from my dreams, but anger quickly replaces it.
Ignoring the fact that we’re in public, I march up to him. “You do not turn your back on me,” I say, my chest heaving with each breath.
He comes to an abrupt stop and spins around, setting those intense dark blue eyes on me like darts puncturing my chest, each leaving an ache.
“Zara.” He says my name with such despair it makes me even more confused.
I need some distance before I lose my mind.
This time, it’s me who turns my back on him. I move past the guests, bumping and apologizing as I make my way out and right into the bathroom at the end of the hall.
Gripping the sink, my head falls. I shake it, wanting to clear my troubled brain when the door bursts open, hitting the wall with a loud bang.
I know who it is without looking.
“If I am not to turn my back on you, then you never again turn your fucking back on me,” he growls, throat vibrating with the deep sound.
I lift my gaze and catch his ragged reflection in the mirror––his body, a sculpture of male strength, ripples with harsh breathing, the jacket’s button threatening to pop any second. The custom-made suit enhances his exquisite physique. He’s beyond handsome, even mad. He caught my attention from the very first moment I became a Syndicate associate.
“I need a moment,” I grit out.
He jerks his chin at me, pinning me down with an intense stare. “The moment is gone.”
“You’re rude and know no personal space.”
He shuts the door with a ring of finality and cuts the space between us. “The personal space you’re begging me to enter with your eyes?”
I gasp. “I––”
“Don’t make me call you out on your bullshit. You’re not that good at pretending.”
His audacity. This man drives me insane.
