ZOE DEAN'S POV
I couldn't sleep. Why? I didn't know. My body just wouldn't settle. Maybe it was because Nero still hadn't returned with Benny after our swim, and now the clock had crept past midnight. Or maybe it was because I was starting to miss home—miss Fredda, miss the comfort of routine, even the chaos of work.
The room was dim, silent except for the faint hum of the AC. I sat cross-legged on the bed, scrolling through Instagram just to keep my mind from spiraling. A message popped up from my aunt, asking how I was doing. My chest warmed at the sight of her name—it had been so long since I'd heard from her. I smiled to myself and quickly texted her back: I'm fine.
The door creaked open, pulling my attention. At first, I only saw Nero's head peeking through the gap, his expression cautious, like he wasn't sure if I was awake.
I chuckled softly. "You don't have to sneak in."
His eyes widened a little, caught in the act, before he opened the door fully. "Zoe," he said in a tone that almost sounded… disbelieving. He flicked on the light, frowning when he saw me sitting there. "You're awake?" It was more of a statement than a question, muttered like he couldn't quite believe it. His frown deepened. "Why are you awake?"
I placed my phone on the side table and smiled faintly. "I couldn't sleep." My voice came out soft, casual.
He stepped in completely now, his eyes sweeping over me in that way that made me feel seen and scrutinized at the same time. "It's past two, Zoe. You should be sleeping."
"And you shouldn't be out at this time either," I shot back, my tone light, teasing.
That earned me the smallest smile from him—barely there, but real. Then he let himself collapse onto the bed beside me with a long, exhausted sigh, staring up at the ceiling.
My chest tightened a little. He looked… drained. "Are you okay?" I asked quietly.
"Mm." He didn't look at me, just closed his eyes. "I'm okay. Just tired."
"Oh," I murmured, not knowing what else to say.
Silence stretched between us, heavy but not uncomfortable. His breathing slowed, and for a moment I thought he'd drifted off. But then his voice came, low and unexpected.
"Zoe… are you asleep?"
I blinked. "No," I whispered.
"Still can't sleep?"
"Hm," I hummed in agreement, my voice small.
He sat up suddenly, his gaze settling on me, calm but sharp. "Do you want to do something crazy?" A grin tugged at his lips, the kind that told me he was up to no good.
My eyes narrowed immediately. "I'll pass," I muttered, shaking my head.
He chuckled, low and deep, before tilting his head at me. "Let's go for a night drive."
My brows shot up, suspicion prickling. A night drive? With Nero, "drive" could mean anything. My chest tightened with unease. "Another race?" I asked carefully, keeping my tone steady.
The grin softened into something smaller, easier. "No. Not another race." His voice dropped a little, quiet but reassuring. "Just a casual drive. You can't sleep, and I need to clear my head. What do you say?"
Something in his tone disarmed me, and I found myself nodding before I could overthink it. "Alright," I said, a smile slipping across my lips as I stood from the bed. A night drive. Maybe that was what I needed too.
I moved to the closet, fingers brushing over hangers as I searched for something simple. My heart beat a little quicker—maybe from the idea, maybe from him. "So… is this like a date?" I teased, glancing over my shoulder.
He chuckled again, and the sound tugged at something inside me. I picked out a light gown and was about to head toward the bathroom when his voice stopped me.
"Is that what you're wearing?" he asked, tone unreadable.
I turned to him, brow arched. "Yes."
His lips curved slightly, and he leaned back on the bed, propping his head up with one hand. "I'd advise you to change into trousers and a thick jacket."
My brows knitted together. "Why?"
He only smiled, not offering a single word more.
I huffed softly but decided to follow his advice anyway. Something about the glint in his eyes told me he already had a plan. Within minutes, I had changed into jeans and a jacket, still wondering what he was up to.
And then I found out.
After crossing the water on his private yacht to the other side of the land, he led me toward it. My steps faltered, my breath catching before I even realized.
There, gleaming in the dim light, stood a black sport bike. Nero's bike.
It looked powerful, dangerous, beautiful. And for the first time that night, sleep was the farthest thing from my mind.
"You said we weren't going to race," I said softly, following behind Nero toward the bike. My eyes trailed over the sleek black machine, glinting under the faint streetlight. Why the bike if we weren't racing? The thought alone made my stomach twist. My heart skipped—half from fear, half from something else I couldn't name.
He didn't turn to look at me, just adjusted something near the handlebar. His tone was calm, almost detached. "We're not racing," he said simply, like that should be enough to quiet my nerves.
"So where are we going, then?" I asked, taking the helmet he handed me.
"Stop asking questions," he said firmly, but not unkindly. Then, to my surprise, he stepped closer and adjusted the helmet on my head himself. His hands brushed against my hair as he secured the strap under my chin. My breath hitched slightly. He smelled faintly of smoke and perfume.
He put on his own helmet and swung a leg over the bike, starting it with a deep growl that seemed to shake the ground. The night air was colder now, and I was suddenly grateful for the thick jacket he'd told me to wear.
I hesitated for a moment, staring at the back of his leather jacket. My heart raced faster than the engine. Was I really doing this? Riding through the city in the middle of the night with Nero?
Apparently, yes.
I climbed on, carefully placing my hands around his waist. The moment I touched him, I felt the warmth of his body even through the jacket. He didn't move, but I could feel the steady rise and fall of his breathing. And then, just like that, we were off.
The city blurred around us. Tall glass towers reflected the night lights in streaks of gold and white as we sped past. The wind whipped against my face, sharp and cold, but it felt… freeing. I tightened my grip around his waist when he accelerated, feeling his heartbeat through the layers of leather and fabric. My own heart followed its rhythm—uneven, nervous, alive.
After what felt like forever, Nero slowed down and pulled into an empty street. He parked in front of an old, rundown building that looked like it used to be a club. The neon sign above it was half-broken, its letters barely hanging on.
I got off first, my legs shaky from the ride, then took off the helmet he handed me. The air smelled faintly of rust and dirt.
"Why… are we here?" I asked, looking around. Something about the place felt eerie. The silence. The broken glass windows. The faint echo of what used to be laughter or music, maybe.
Nero didn't answer right away. His eyes were fixed on the building, his face unreadable. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter. "It looks exactly like she told me."
There was something heavy in his tone—sad, almost nostalgic.
I turned to him, confused. "She?"
"My mother."
My breath caught. His mother.
He didn't look at me when he said it. Just kept staring at the building like it held something sacred. My chest tightened. Was he finally ready to talk about her?
"Your mother came here?" I asked gently, afraid to break whatever fragile moment this was.
He nodded slowly. "She met my dad here."
A soft smile tugged at my lips as I imagined the scene—young love, maybe laughter, maybe music playing in the background. But the thought didn't linger long. Because now, standing beside him, I could feel the weight pressing down on him.
Something was wrong.
"Are you okay?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
He sighed deeply, his eyes never leaving the building. "I should be," he murmured. "But I'm not. I'm finally getting a lead on my mother's murder, but…" His voice trailed off, heavy with frustration. "I feel like I'm not doing something right."
I turned to the building again, letting the quiet fill the space between us before asking softly, "How did she die?" I'd wanted to know for so long—ever since I saw those strange files on his laptop, ever since Emily mentioned it.
He stayed quiet for a moment. Then, in a voice so low I almost missed it, he said, "She was murdered to weaken my father's empire. It happened the night he was supposed to announce his new mafia takeover." His tone was flat, but the pain underneath was sharp. "That was the most shocking night of my life—watching her lie in her own blood."
The words hit me hard. I froze. I didn't even realize I was holding my breath until it came out shaky.
Who would dare do that?
"Who would do such a thing?" I asked softly, not sure if I was crossing a line.
He sighed. "Someone name Frenado Ashthorne. An old guard of my father. But he disappeared after her death."
I swallowed hard wanting to say something to reach for him, to offer something that could ease the storm I saw behind his eyes, but what could I possibly say to a man whose world had shattered like that?
"Do you… miss her?" I asked carefully.
He didn't answer right away. Just stood there, staring at the building like he could see her there. Then, finally, he turned to me, his eyes soft but distant. "All the time."
I swallowed hard, unsure what to say to that. My heart ached for him.
I looked back at the building, its shadow stretching across the cracked pavement. "Can we go inside?" I asked quietly.
He turned to me, meeting my gaze for a long moment. There was a flicker of hesitation in his eyes before he sighed and shrugged lightly. "If you want to."
I nodded, and after making sure the bike was secure, we walked side by side toward the entrance.
The air felt heavier the closer we got.
And for reasons I couldn't explain, my heart started racing again.