“One of my guards will retrieve your things,” he said, sticking his head through a doorway and speaking in Arabic.
Azlyn caught a few familiar words—she’d been studying the language over the past year—but most of it was too fast to follow.Still, she recognizedplaneandfast, which sent a ripple of unease down her spine.
She’d also spent the past year researching Nighthawk Services for her next documentary.That had taken up most of her time… well, that and growing a whole human being.Giving birth had definitely disrupted her research schedule.So had keeping her son alive on her own.
When Zayn turned back to her, she tried to hide her curiosity.But her eyes betrayed her.
“What’s going on?”she asked cautiously.
Zayn didn’t answer right away.He stood there, holding their son like it was the most natural thing in the world.He looked...competent.Confident.At ease.She hated how easily that stirred something in her chest.
There was a beat of silence.A moment of quiet energy.The hum of awareness between them had been low-level until now—background noise.
But now?It turned into a thrumming pulse.
Her eyes drifted to his lips.She remembered how they moved over her skin, the way he used them to kiss her, tease her, undo her piece by piece—
“Breakfast will be here soon,” he said softly.
Had he moved closer?
Azlyn blinked, still staring at his mouth, wondering if it was still as good as she remembered.Or had time turned it into fantasy?
No.She rememberedexactlyhow it had felt.The shock of that first time, the way he’d soothed her afterward with soft touches and whispered words.
It was still there—that pull.The attraction hadn’t faded one bit.
“Why aren’t you mad at me?”she whispered, ignoring the soft clinking noises somewhere behind her.
“Because I could have called you too.”
“But I didn’t tell you I was pregnant.”
He offered a crooked smile and stepped closer.“When we were together before…” He reached out, cradling the side of her head with one large, warm hand—Griffin still tucked in his other arm.“The sex was… intense.We never got to the part where we actuallytalked.”
“We talked,” she argued, though she privately agreed: the sex had beenthatintense.She just wasn’t about to say it out loud.Pride still had a pulse.
“Not about the important things.Like family.”
He dropped his hand and tilted his head, eyes warm.“Breakfast is ready.Our biscuits are getting cold.”
She doubted that.In a place like this, the food was probably temperature-controlled by secret panels and tiny Michelin-starred elves.But when she turned toward the dining area, all the blinding white nearly gave her a headache.
The cold, sterile décor didn’t just lack personality—it radiatedsoullessness.And yet...it made sense.Zayn hadn’t planned on bringing a baby into this space.He’d ridden in like a prince on a mission and done the best he could on the fly.
When she spotted the clear acrylic dining table—hovering between chic and hospital-sterile—she smothered a sigh.This wasn’t a breakfast table.This was a design statement that screamedno syrup allowed.
Still, she followed him to the table.
Because regardless of where they were—surrounded by modern minimalism and overpriced furniture—her world had already shifted.
And it was standing right in front of her, holding their son like he’d been waiting his whole life to do exactly that.
Chapter 23
Zayn continued to hold Griffin with one arm as he pulled out a chair for Azlyn.If his eyes wandered to her pert backside while she sat, he excused himself.He was a man, after all—and more importantly, she hadn’t noticed.So in his mind, it didn’t count.
“What brought you back to Chicago?”Azlyn asked as she lifted a sterling silver lid and took two biscuits from the hotel platter.
