Chapter 23
The dining room of the mansion was bathed in the warm, golden glow of the chandelier above. Zyan and Kiara were both eating dinner, but Kiara wasn't paying attention to the food.
She sat across from Zyan, her fork hovering halfway to her mouth, completely forgotten. Her eyes kept drifting toward him as she stole quick, shameless glances at his hands.
Zyan was cutting his steak with slow, precise movements. His black dress shirt had the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, exposing the thick, defined veins running beneath his skin. The top button of his shirt was casually undone, revealing just a hint of his collarbone.
God, he's distracting, she thought, her mouth going slightly dry.
"You're drooling," Zyan said with a low, amused chuckle.
Kiara's hand flew to her mouth as she frantically wiped her chin, cleaning up the nonexistent drool.
Then she looked up.
Zyan was staring at her, a wicked, devastating smirk playing on his lips. His dark eyes danced with pure mischief.
He was pulling her leg.
"Really?" she asked dryly, giving him a sharp side-eye.
"What?" Zyan replied innocently, glancing back down at his plate as he cut another piece of steak. "You just seemed to be enjoying the view so much that it was almost going to fall out. I stopped it in time."
Kiara rolled her eyes and picked up her fork again.
"You wish. My eyes just happened to be looking in that direction. There's nothing to enjoy."
Zyan slowly set his fork down.
"Really?" he murmured, his voice dropping an octave.
Without breaking eye contact, he reached for his cuff and began rolling his sleeve even higher, exposing more of his thick, veiny forearm.
Kiara's eyes widened.
"What... what are you doing?"
He didn't answer. Instead, his hand moved to the second button of his shirt, his fingers slowly reaching for it, clearly intending to undo it.
Kiara immediately stretched her hand across the table and slapped his hand away before he could unbutton it. Her other hand flew up to cover her face, but her fingers remained spread wide, her eyes still open as she watched him through the gaps.
Zyan burst out laughing, a deep, rich sound that filled the room.
"Relax, kitten," he said, his eyes crinkling with amusement.
He stood up, grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair.
Kiara lowered her hand and frowned at him.
"Where are you going?"
"I have to meet Grandfather," he said, shrugging into his jacket. "There's a situation he needs me to handle. I'll be back before midnight."
Kiara glanced at the antique clock on the wall. It was already past nine.
She nodded, trying to hide her disappointment.
"Okay."
Zyan paused, his sharp eyes immediately catching the slight pout on her lips. He walked back around the table and stopped beside her chair. Bending down until his face was inches from hers, he tapped his lips with one long finger.
Kiara rolled her eyes, but a small, genuine smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.
She slipped her arm around his neck and pulled him down toward her. Their lips met in a short, deep kiss, their tongues sliding against each other for a few breathless seconds before she pulled away.
Zyan let out a low, rough grunt, clearly dissatisfied. However, he forced himself to straighten up and adjust his jacket.
"My bed still needs to be warmed," he reminded her, a dark, possessive smirk spreading across his face.
Kiara felt a hot flush creep up her neck.
This man is impossible, she thought to herself as she watched him walk out the door.
---
Hours later, Zyan's black SUV pulled up outside the warehouse on the outskirts of the city.
The playful, charming husband was gone.
The man who stepped out of the car was cold, lethal, and completely unrecognizable. His jaw was tightly clenched, and his eyes were black and devoid of warmth.
He walked down the concrete stairs into the underground basement, where Alex was waiting beside a heavy metal gate.
"Is she inside?" Zyan asked, his voice raspy and flat.
"Yes, boss," Alex replied.
"Did he get anything out of her?"
"Yes, sir."
Alex unlocked the heavy metal gate and pulled it open. Zyan stepped through.
Inside the dimly lit room, Grandfather Sinclair sat in a wooden chair, his cane resting against his knee. He no longer looked like the same gentle grandfather. Blood stained the black leather glove he was wearing.
Across from him, tied to a metal chair, was a woman. Her face was bruised, her lip split, and she was barely conscious.
Zyan's eyes swept over the scene, his expression unreadable.
"Is she still breathing?" he asked, his voice cold and hollow.
"Barely," Grandfather replied without even glancing at the woman.
"Hmm." Zyan leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. "What did you get out of her?"
Grandfather's lips curled into a dark, twisted smile.
"You seem to be losing your touch already, grandson."
Zyan didn't laugh. He simply stared at his grandfather, his eyes flat and dangerous.
"Just kidding," the old man chuckled, though there was no real humor in his voice. "The Vales put her up to it. They threatened her by kidnapping her younger sister. They forced her to poison me, or they would kill the girl."
Zyan's jaw tightened, a muscle twitching in his cheek.
"It seems the Vales want to start another war after all these years," Grandfather continued, finally looking up at Zyan.
His expression remained unreadable, but Grandfather had known his grandson his entire life. He could see the worry hidden beneath Zyan's cold exterior.
"What is the problem, grandson?" the old man asked quietly.
Zyan didn't respond immediately. Instead, he glanced at Alex.
"Clean her up. Get her sister from the location you've tracked. Hide them somewhere safe."
"Soft-hearted as usual," Grandfather sneered, though there was a hint of approval in his voice.
He stood up slowly, leaning on his cane.
"This old man is done here. I'm leaving."
Alex hurried to hold the metal gate open for him. Grandfather walked out without another word.
Once the gate clicked shut behind him, Alex turned back to Zyan.
"Boss... it's the Vales again."
"Hmm," Zyan responded, his voice dangerously quiet.
His eyes remained fixed on the unconscious woman in the chair, but his mind was somewhere else entirely.
He was thinking about a certain photograph locked inside his desk drawer.
---
Back at the mansion, Kiara had finished her dinner alone.
She headed upstairs toward Zyan's room, but her mind kept drifting back to what had happened the other day. She remembered the way Zyan had quickly hidden that photograph in his drawer, the way his eyes had darkened, and the lie he had told her about "Grandfather's pictures."
Something about his reaction had seemed... suspicious.
It won't hurt to find out, right? she thought to herself.
Before she even fully realized what she was doing, her feet had carried her down the hallway to Zyan's private home office.
She stood in front of the heavy oak door, her heart beating a little faster than usual. She reached out and gripped the brass handle, closing her eyes and silently praying that it was locked.
She turned it.
Click.
Her eyes flew open.
It wasn't locked.