/Madison's POV/
After getting out of the bathroom, I gently paced my room as I went over what happened with Aya in my head. The cool air from the AC brushed against my damp skin, still carrying the faint scent of my soap.
Aya said Zane had kissed her because he was drunk, and my sister had retaliated by cheating. Something tells me she didn't just retaliate because of that. I figured my sister had a temper — she's vengeful, and she's jealous — but she's also a celebrity.
An identity which grounds her, even if she was gonna screw up. Even with common sense, to disregard that part of her would mean she needed a push strong enough that nothing else mattered.
For something to make Allison — who wanted so badly to hide the other side of her from Zane — carefully approach Richard and seduce him, disregarding that it might backfire and Zane might find out, would mean whatever happened that night between Aya and Zane was the right amount of trigger.
What if Aya didn't push Zane away but welcomed it?
My eyes widened, a cold ripple running down my spine at the thought that Aya might hold even the tiniest bit of attraction for Zane. Zane was drunk that night; maybe Aya was as well. If she'd entertained his advances and Allison had caught her red-handed, that's enough trigger.
If Aya left as quickly as she claimed, and someone else slept with Zane after she left, it would mean Allison wasn't with Zane — but where was she?
I'm not sure if that video Elias threatened my sister with is linked to the event, but it's safe to assume it is. After all, she had assaulted someone I'm guessing really slept with Zane that night. I'd have to look into that separately. I wouldn't be surprised if the victim of the assault wanted her dead.
But Allison couldn't have found out Aya kissed Zane — except Zane told her, which I doubt happened since Aya made it sound like Zane was pretty oblivious about all that drama going down between her and my sister. And knowing Zane, he wouldn't have stayed still if he was aware.
I think Kim should be able to look into what happened that night, I pondered, immediately whipping out my phone to text her — but the screen lit up with a new message from her instead, the vibration buzzing faintly through my fingers.
She'd sent me the hotel room and security information as well as the time of the locksmith's arrival, going as far as background profiles on the personnel involved. The more I scrolled, the deeper the knot in my stomach twisted.
She wanted me to get the safe before they unlocked it. After all, she had the means to unlock it — but that's stupid.
I immediately dialled her the moment I saw her instructions. The phone felt slightly warm against my ear.
"You got my message?" she asked the instant she picked up.
"Yeah, but I can't do that."
She went radio silent for a minute. All I could hear was her soft breathing.
Confused, she asked, "Why not?"
"Because it's a bullshit plan that could easily jeopardise escape. I know you're just taking precautions to keep the content safe, but you've gotta trust me." I explained. I could almost hear the wheels turning in her head from here. "If we have to do this, you've gotta do it my way," I made clear.
"What's your plan?" she asked.
I sighed softly, rubbing the bridge of my nose. "I have no intention of exposing that I was even there, Kim. We get there before they do, get the content of the safe before their locksmith even has the chance to touch it, and before they know what hits them, I'm long gone. Capisce?"
"But how d'you intend to do that? The place is swarming with security on rotation."
"Yeah, you mentioned — and that's what we'll target. The window of that rotation. I can always improvise the plan in case things go south, but for now, let's handle things this way."
I walked over to my window, letting the fine moist breeze from Zane's vast garden wash over my warm skin. The air smelled faintly of wet grass.
"Okay."
"And by the way, I want you to look into something for me. The Tony Awards dinner event from last year… I want you to find out everything my sister did that night — including Zane and his best friend, Ayana Brown. You think you could do that?"
She hesitated. "It's been a while, so I can't promise you the best result, but I'll look into it and get back to you."
"That's good. Also, I like Tiffany Vance's profile… we look the most alike," I pointed out, and she chuckled softly in my ear.
"You haven't changed one bit."
"Well, I hate unnecessary noise. If you could get in and out without being seen, that's the best… but—"
I tsked, and she laughed again, the sound bright against the quiet room.
"Okay, I'll set your stage. You just have to go shine on it. I'll have my men waiting the moment you retrieve the safe's contents," she assured, and with that, we concluded our call.
I walked over to the closet, wanting to put some clothes on since I'd just come out of the shower. My damp fingers slid slightly against the smooth wooden door as I pulled it open. I settled for a casual shirt and jeans and was in the middle of putting them on when Zane barged in.
His face was stitched together with restrained rage. His footsteps were heavy — purposeful. And somewhere beneath that expression, I sensed grief, sadness, and confusion. A look I'd never seen on him before. My stomach dipped.
"Are you… okay?" I asked softly as he walked over to me, his shadow swallowing mine, his presence thick like pressure on my chest.
"Zane," I called, unsettled by his silence and the probing gaze that seemed to hold millions of unanswered questions.
His hands settled on my face — warm, firm — his fingers spreading slowly. The warmth in his eyes from last night and this morning had vanished completely, leaving nothing but icy, hardened rage in its wake.
My pulse picked up pace, loud in my ears, when his hands moved towards my neck. For a moment, I braced myself—but Zane slammed his lips on mine instead.
"What… are you—?"
He didn't give me the chance to talk. His lips moulded against mine with blazing ferocity that threatened to scorch me. His breath was hot; his grip on my waist unrelenting. Zane's lips trailed down my neck, biting hard at my skin as he pulled me closer, his cologne wrapping around me like a trap. The sharp sting made me wince, but he didn't stop.
Why is he suddenly so… forward? And aggressive? I wondered before his mouth returned to mine.
I stiffened when his hands pushed the shirt over my panties, his movements rushed and assertive. Zane didn't give me time to think before he unzipped his pants and lowered my underwear. His fingers brushed my thigh — cold, then warm — making my breath catch.
I pulled my lips from his, slightly panting as different thoughts crashed into one another. I wasn't ready; I could feel my muscles tight, unprepared. With his size, it could hurt without prep.
He guided my leg over his waist, his palm steadying me, his breath hot on my neck as he lowered his head again, nibbling and biting before plunging into me — knocking the air clean out of my lungs.
My head thudded lightly against the doorframe.
I bit down on my lips —hard—tasting a faint metallic tang.
My fingers clenched the fabric of his shirt as pain and pleasure erupted through me simultaneously.
The polished surface of the closet doorframe made it hard to keep my footing; my toes slid slightly on the smooth floor. The bed was just a metre away, but Zane didn't care — he was desperate.
It felt like he wanted to quickly unload his frustration on someone or something.
Every action, every movement masked his pain with fury—and every aggressive thrust sent sparks of painful pleasure shooting through me, leaving my legs trembling.
I watched his jaw tighten with malice, his eyes clouded with resentment.
Just what was he thinking?
He didn't stop. The longer we stayed in that position, the more my back strained and the ache spread, but the sensation between us stayed sharp — insistent. It almost felt like he wanted to punish and love me at the same time.
The realisation hit me like a slap.
It wasn't me Zane was mad at—it was Allison.
And once again, I bore the brunt of his affection for her.
"Argh," I gasped as he rammed into me one last time before pulling out, releasing over my shirt.
"Are you done?" I asked coldly, my voice flat as I adjusted myself, peeling the soiled shirt off my skin. I dropped it to the floor, the fabric hitting with a soft, wet sound. I glared at him and walked past.
"Fuck!" I heard him cuss under his breath before slipping into the bathroom.
I felt like shit, but then… I signed up for this.
He could have at least made it enjoyable for both of us.
Zane was waiting for me when I got back from the bathroom, the air between us thick and heavy.
"What was that about?" I asked, ignoring the remorseful look cast my way.
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