ZAYLA

The suite Ziven brought me into was warm, opulent and picturesque. It was nothing short of magnificent. An airy expanse of marble floors, floor to ceiling windows, and understated gold accents that spoke of effortless wealth. Every piece of furniture looked custom-made, every surface polished to perfection, giving the space the quiet, intimidating elegance of money that never needed to announce itself.

He dropped me gently on the black leather sofa, straightening his shirt as he stood fully, his gaze not leaving me.

"Feel better?" He asked, his gaze still lingering on me before he turned, stepping away.

My gaze followed him until he disappeared further into the room....