Samantha, clad in a red silk nightgown, her skin delicate and smooth, held a glass of red wine. Turning gracefully, she faced Zion, who stood at the door, eyes tightly shut. Her face flushed, she let out a scornful sniff. “Broad daylight? Zion, open your eyes. What’s with the holier-than-thou act? You never said such things when we were together. What's this sudden virtue?”
Zion’s ears burned with embarrassment; memories of their past affection flooded his mind. He thought, I know how brutal Samantha can be. Who knows what she’ll say next? Slowly, he opened his eyes.
Samantha had changed positions, sitting on a chair beside the piano, long legs crossed, toes lightly touching the floor. Her thin gauze dress both revealed and concealed. Zion swallowed hard, avoiding her gaze.
In a somber tone, he said, “Samantha, we’ve broken up. Don’t do this. You’re the Mitchell family heiress, every man in Betrico’s dream. Plenty of eligible bachelors would jump at the chance. I’m not the one.” His voice, laced with desolation, repeated, “I’m not the one.” He bowed his head, fingers clenching.
Samantha showed no anger. Instead, she smiled captivatingly. “Zion, you broke up with me. Did you get my consent? I start the game, and I end it. It’s not your call. Got it?” Beneath the smile, fury simmered. This jerk still thinks about breaking up? Fine, I’ll make him pay.
“Alright, then you say break up,” Zion said.
Samantha’s anger flared. Everyone saw him as a gentleman, but she knew his stubbornness. She glared at him, her gaze unreadable, a heavy silence falling between them.
Placing her glass down, she moved to him with slinky grace. Standing before him, she flashed another captivating smile. “Alright, if breaking up is what you want, I won’t hold on. I’m on board. Let’s have a drink to sever our ties.” Pressing the wine glass into his hand, she winked playfully. “Go ahead and drink. Once that’s done, we’re history.”
Dazed, Zion clutched the glass. He’d wanted to end it, but now, with Samantha walking away, the loss hit him hard. His hand tightened around the glass. After two long minutes, he met her gaze, reluctance lingering in his eyes. He downed the wine in one gulp; a tear escaped, falling to the floor and disappearing.
Samantha’s eyes lingered. This guy’s putting on a show. Why make things so complicated? Love is love, and if it’s over, it’s over. Be decisive. But seeing him like this, a hint of tenderness welled in her heart.
After finishing the wine, his eyes glazed, Zion looked at her with longing. “There. I’m done.”
Samantha swept aside loose strands of hair. Glancing at his reddened eyes, she said, “Okay, I’ll be gone in ten minutes. Come on over and have a seat.”
Zion, reminding himself he only had ten minutes, stopped holding back. He sat neatly on the sofa, hands on his knees. Even in his thirties, his gaze was as pure as a teenager's. This purity was why Samantha had noticed him initially; she craved it.
“Aren’t you going to sit with me?” he asked, watching her daze.
After a moment’s hesitation, Samantha sat beside him. Close enough to poke his lips gently—soft, one of the things she liked.
Feeling her touch, Zion tensed. She had a thing for poking his lips, and his earlobes. But his cold hand captured her wrist, his grip tightening. “Stop teasing,” he said, his tone affectionate yet warning. “You know I have no defenses against you.”
Samantha looked up, her eyes sparkling. She released his wrist. “No problem. I won’t touch you.”
Zion was puzzled. How can the assertive Samantha be so obedient?
For eight minutes, a comfortable silence fell between them. Despite the cool air conditioning, Zion felt a tingling in his heart. He glanced at her smile, and something clicked. He stared back, her gaze inscrutable. He recognized what was happening.
“Samantha, what have you done? This is insane!” he said, struggling.
Resting her chin on her hand, Samantha nodded. “Yeah, it’s what you’re thinking. Don’t worry; it won’t have lasting effects. I wouldn’t do that to you.”
Battling his unease, Zion sighed. “Just leave. I’m going to take a shower, and I want you gone quickly.” He felt like a wolf seeing a steak.
Samantha’s mood plummeted. Back down from what I want? The man I want is Zion, and no matter when, if I wish it, he has to be by my side. If he doesn’t understand it, I am ready to make him get it today.
She sneered, “But I don’t want to go.”
Zion reluctantly gave in. “Alright,” he said. As Samantha raised her hand, with a meaningful gaze, he responded, “Samantha, don’t you dare back out on me later.”
Playing with a strand of hair, she whispered seductively into his ear, “Never will. You can count on it.”
Zion’s expression turned grim. Samantha’s firecracker had ignited, and no one could stop her. Her scheme to drive him crazy was both endearing and infuriating.
It wasn’t until deep in the night, ten hours after midday, that the door to Zion’s master bedroom reopened.