Zayden straightened his appearance in the mirror after relieving himself. He checked his phone for any urgent emails. Business thoughts started flooding back in.
As he stepped out, he was suddenly bumped by something, losing his balance.
In the next second, Zayden stumbled and fell onto a woman standing in the hallway. They both tumbled to the floor. In an awkward position, the woman's lips had landed against his chest, staining his white shirt with a bold red mark. He quickly stood up, flustered and concerned as he noticed the woman seemed in pain.
"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to…" Zayden rubbed his temple, feeling a light headache. He helped her up, guilt washing over him.
Irish, despite the sharp pain in her ankle, couldn't help the sly smile tugging at her lips. This was part of her plan, now unfolding perfectly. The pain in her foot was real, but the payoff was worth it. Zayden hadn't noticed her smile, too focused on helping her.
"Really sorry. I didn't see you," Zayden said, lifting her carefully. He decided to take her to a quieter room to rest.
Irish winced, her ankle throbbing. But deep inside, she was thrilled. Her plan to get close to Zayden, her ultimate revenge target, was working.
"I'll call a doctor to check your foot," Zayden said, already dialing on his phone.
"Don't worry," Irish replied softly, trying to sound sweet. "Actually, I should be the one apologizing. Maybe I wasn't careful."
Zayden offered a polite smile, feeling slightly awkward. "Seems like we're both at fault. Are you a friend of Marisha?"
"Oh, no. I'm just representing a friend who couldn't make it. I only came on her behalf." Irish gave him a mysterious smile.
Zayden nodded, visibly more relaxed. "I hope you enjoy the party."
Irish's eyes settled on the red lip mark on his shirt. "Your shirt…" she said, pointing. "I'm really sorry."
Zayden chuckled, unbothered. "It's fine. Just an accident. Don't worry about it."
But Irish wasn't going to let the conversation die. "Actually, I came because I admire your business achievements." Her voice was sincere, but her gaze calculated. "I run a few businesses myself. Serenite Boutique, Cafe Lumiere. You've always been my motivation."
Zayden raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "You're flattering me."
"I truly mean it," Irish replied with a soft laugh. "Whenever I feel like giving up, I think about your success. The way you appear in articles, it keeps me moving forward."
Zayden smiled faintly. "I'll drop by your cafe one day and see how I can help. Consider it an apology."
"Thank you. That would mean a lot," Irish said elegantly. "Your life looks perfect. I admire you and your wife. You're both role models to me."
Zayden nodded with appreciation, though a bit puzzled. "Nothing's perfect. But I appreciate the kind words. Please pray for us. We hope to have a child soon."
Irish looked at him with gentle eyes. "I believe you will. I truly do."
In her mind, Irish was already plotting the next move. Zayden was nearing his breaking point, and she would strike right at the gap.
She leaned back on the sofa, soothing the dull throb in her ankle. Her red dress slipped slightly off her shoulder, revealing pale skin and a delicate collarbone. It looked natural, not staged. As if this was just how she moved.
Zayden stood nearby, occasionally checking his phone. But more than once, his eyes drifted back to Irish. Her exposed shoulder, the elegant curve of her neck, the way the dress framed her perfectly.
Irish glanced down at her shiny heels.
"Looks like I can't take them off by myself," she muttered softly, just loud enough for Zayden to hear. He turned, puzzled.
"You mean… your shoes?" he frowned. "Oh my God. I should've helped you with those."
Irish nodded slowly. "I usually never ask for help with things like this. But my foot really can't take it anymore."
She leaned down, lifting her gown slightly to reveal her reddened heel. Her skin was smooth, and the line of her leg hinted at how long and toned they were.
Zayden knelt and gently undid the straps of her heels. He was careful not to touch her skin directly, but the proximity was enough to feel a certain tension.
His eyes lingered a bit. The red heel, the pale skin glowing under the light, the elegant leg partly hidden under the gown. It all looked… dangerous. Enough to break his focus for a moment.
He took a breath, trying to stay polite. But with every loosened strap, more of her leg was revealed, and for some reason… he wanted to keep looking.
"Sorry," he said, removing the left heel. "If it hurts—"
"It actually… feels better," Irish replied softly. She looked at him with sincere eyes. "I'm not used to being helped like this."
Zayden chuckled, though his heartbeat was no longer steady. And Irish knew, that small smile from him meant something was shifting.
When both heels were off, Irish stretched her toes and whispered, "Now I get it… why a woman could fall for a man just because he took off her shoes."
Zayden looked up. His expression was still calm, but something was there. A spark of curiosity. Maybe even something deeper.
Irish rested her head on the sofa, closing her eyes for a moment before reopening them gently. "I'm sorry if I've been too much trouble tonight."
"Not at all," Zayden replied. "I'm glad I could help. This is my fault too."
"Then… about your shirt?" Irish looked at him again, warmer this time. "Can I compensate you?"
Zayden shook his head, smiling. "Let's call it a souvenir. Not many dare to stain my look."
Irish giggled. "Then I'm happy to be the exception."
And for a moment, just a moment, Zayden held her gaze longer than he should. Filled with curiosity. And maybe, secretly… a desire just beginning to surface.
"You're a married man Zayden" his conscience whispered as the doctor he called finally arrived.