/Madison's POV/
I can't remember the last time I felt nervous. I didn't even flinch when I had to rescue a colleague with a fucking bomb strapped to him. However, sleeping in the same bed with Zane without actually doing anything made me feel strangely nervous—an uneasy flutter building under my ribs, like tiny wings brushing against my insides.
I can't even remember the last time I was on the same bed with a guy—just actually sleeping in it with nothing going on. It was always empty sex that made me disappear before the guy opened his eyes to the morning sunlight, thinking it would fill the void you didn't know was there.
The mattress underneath me felt unfamiliar, too soft, too warm—almost like it was trying to swallow me whole.
I could feel the weight of my heavy thoughts slowly reflecting in my breathing. Slow, uneven, and heavy. The air felt thicker with each inhale, and I was almost putting more effort into steadying my breathing than actually sleeping. And when he did reach out to me with an expression full of want and longing—not gonna lie, it was tempting. The heat radiating from his hand brushed my skin, sending a small pulse through my chest, and I almost let things escalate.
But the melancholy lacing those feelings was just as vivid. I knew immediately I wasn't the person Zane saw. He wasn't looking at me—behind those emotion-filled eyes were thoughts of my sister he probably wished was there with him.
It stung a little, sharp and cold, like a sudden draft brushing the back of my neck.
I mean, I knew this arrangement—something we were yet to talk about—was born out of convenience. I get laid and, in turn, he gets to pretend he was still actually fucking my sister. Why else would he suddenly be interested in me? Why else would he kiss me like that—like he'd missed me so much? It didn't make sense. The echo of that kiss still lingered like a ghost on my lips, warm and heavy.
We both didn't need to say it, but it's exactly how it is. Although I don't mind it… I think. I'm not exactly sure. Maybe it bothers me just a little bit. Normally, I'd fall asleep the moment I hit the hay, but this time my sleep dragged on, like my thoughts were sandpaper scraping against each other.
And it wasn't until Zane's gentle breathing filled the silence of the night—steady, rhythmic, brushing faintly against the back of my neck—that I actually fell asleep. But not deeply. I kept thinking he'd wake up, but he didn't. Instead, he dragged me into his arms, snuggled me like he wanted to squeeze the air out of my lungs. His body radiated heat like a furnace, seeping through the blanket, and before I knew it, it was morning.
Although there was a little drama when Aya's husband—whose name I've only ever heard in passing—showed up wanting to talk, Aya still looked pretty mad. Her footsteps were heavy, sharp against the wooden floor, every stomp slicing through the tense morning quiet.
"Are you gonna tell me what's going on or what?" I demanded after following Aya back to my room. My voice sounded louder in the enclosed space, bouncing off the walls.
"Are you gonna tell me where you slept last night or what?" she questioned right back, her eyes narrowing as she crossed her arms, fabric rustling.
"Are you kidding?" I frowned, the irritation prickling like static on my skin.
"Look, Maddy… we both definitely have things we don't wanna talk about. Okay?" Her expression soured, her shoulders tightening.
"Your husband's still downstairs. I'm not sure he's gonna leave until you see him," I pointed out, but Aya remained unfazed. "Seriously, what's this about?" I pressured, and from the look on her face, I could tell she was ready to cave. Her lips trembled slightly, the kind of nervous twitch someone gets right before spilling something huge.
I just needed to push a little more. "I think Zane deserves to know why your husband's camping out on his lawn."
"He can't find out," Aya said almost immediately, fidgeting as her hardened expression morphed into worry. Her fingers kept twisting the hem of her shirt, pulling and releasing like she couldn't keep still.
Folding my hands, I queried, "And why's that?"
"Because he might just kill him if he knew." Aya sighed before turning away. Her voice was thin, trembling, like she was holding back more than she wanted to admit. "Ah fuck! Why does it have to be Allison of all people?" she mumbled—not exactly to herself, but loud enough for me to hear. A cold chill crawled up my spine.
"What's that about my sister?" I demanded, and she immediately returned to looking unsettled—eyes darting, throat bobbing as she swallowed.
"Y'know what? Fuck it. D'you remember when I told you about, y'know… Allison being a jealous freaking bitch?" she asked.
Looking taken aback, I started, "Not in those exact words." My eyes fluttered slightly. "Yeah, you told me something similar." I could feel my pulse pick up, the tension thickening the air.
"It was always just suspicions on her part, but last year's Tony Awards celebratory dinner event… Zane got drunk. He looked like he was having a hard time dealing with something, but that's not the point. The point is, Allison abandoned him—being the famous poster actress she was—so I helped him get back to his hotel room," she paused, sucked in her lips like her next words were heavy, almost bitter on her tongue.
"He kissed me—"
A cold jolt shot through my stomach.
"But it only lasted for a few seconds. He thought I was Allison, but I quickly left. I brushed it off as an accident. I mean, shit happens—you could even fuck your cousin while you're drunk."
"That's a weird comparison," I muttered.
"I know, but Zane's like family to me… only that Allison didn't believe me. I wasn't even the person Zane eventually had sex with that night." She scoffed, the sound sharp and humourless.
"Wait… what? Zane… slept with someone else?" I asked, but Aya was quiet—too quiet. The silence pressed thickly between us.
"I'm not sure, but according to what I heard, it seems someone else entered the room after I left. Apparently, Allison thought it was me at first and—fuck." She groaned. Her shoulders slumped in defeat. "Allison went for my husband as well… like a payback or something."
"Crap! Isn't Richard like Zane's friend or something?" I asked.
Aya heaved heavily, the air around her shifting with the weight of it. "I know, it's bad… but even if she threw herself at him, he could have… stopped. He could have resisted—ah." She groaned again, burying her face briefly in her hands.
Once again, I'm thrown into a puddle of mixed emotions. Maybe my sister wasn't the angel Zane thought she was. I understand if she was blackmailed into sleeping with Elias, but sleeping with Richard just to get back at Aya wasn't exactly what an angel would do. My chest tightened, an uncomfortable pressure building beneath my ribs.
"How'd you find out?" I asked.
"Ever since it happened, he was being weird. Remorseful… although I never actually thought it was because of what happened. I just thought we found our mojo back, y'know?" She scoffed, her expression crestfallen. Her fingers trembled slightly as she tucked her hair behind her ear. "He was all caring again, thoughtful, sweet… almost like when we first got married. But after Allison's stabbing, it got worse. I could tell there was something up with him; I just didn't know what. And when I told him I was working on a little project with Zane—you… I mean, not you you… I mean Allison. You."
"I know that," I muttered.
"Long story short, he started to spiral. And then he saw Zane a few days ago because of his headaches—I mean, he's his personal doctor." Her breath hitched slightly before she continued, "Apparently, he could no longer keep it in. He was going crazy, broke down, and confessed to me, thinking Allison might beat him to the punch."
"I'm not sure what he expected. That I'm gonna pat him on the back and tell him well done? This is so fucked up, Maddy. What am I supposed to tell Zane?" She let herself fall into the bed, the mattress creaking under her weight.
"Forget Zane, what are you gonna do?" I asked as she brought her hands over her face. "He is your husband," I reminded.
The room felt heavier, like the air itself was sinking.
"I don't know, Maddy. In fact, I've never been more confused. I mean… I still love him. Yeah, he got drunk and messed up but—crap—I don't know. He's not faultless in this, but it's not entirely his fault either."
"Anyway, you should talk to Zane. I'm sure he's confused in all of this."
Is what I thought, but then an echoing loud sound erupted from downstairs—sharp and violent—making us jump.
By the time we rushed downstairs, Zane was pummelling Richard against the wall. His fists slammed into him with a sickening thud, the sound echoing through the mansion's high ceiling.
"Oh God."
Well, that's one way to go 'bout it.
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