My eyes fly around my apartment in a panic. The thought of Zayn being here in my personal space is too much to handle. I need to keep our relationship strictly professional until my divorce is settled and I can excavate him from my life for good.
You see, I’ve had time to ponder why Zayn returnednow, after all this time, and I’ve concluded that he feels like he owes me closure after what happened between us. He doesn’t, and I don’t want it. I just want to survive my way through my divorce and then continue to push through life without him.
I definitely don’t need to hear how he changed his mind and didn’t want to be with me anymore.
I definitely don’t need to hear how he’ssorry.
And if the only way to keep him and his petty excuses at bay is to keep him at arm’s length, then that’s what I’ll do.
“That won’t be necessary. I’ll come to you.Tomorrow,when I’m not otherwise engaged.”
“While it certainly sounds like you’re doingsomething, I suggest you un-engage yourself and come today. It’s important.”
It’s then I realise, with pure mortification, that I haven’t muted the TV. Sofia’s soft moans while Antonio plows into her on the kitchen tiles are filtering through the speakers so loud I’m sure even the elderly couple living next door think I’m partaking in some afternoon delight.
I almost fall off the couch, lunging for the remote. Fumbling with the off switch, I school my voice because I absolutely refuse to let go of my composure in front of Zayn again.
“Isn’t ityourjob to un-engage me?” I retort, finally killing the volume and sinking back into the cushions.
“That’s exactly what I’m trying to do. See you soon.” His voice garners no room for objection before he hangs up on me. Charming.
I takemy time getting ready. It’s petty, but it gives me a tiny bit of satisfaction knowing I’m making Zayn wait when he made it clear he wanted me in ASAP. The fact that I’m washing and blow-drying my hair, applying make-up and choosing an outfit instead of chucking on my default tights and hoodie has nothing to do with wanting to look nice for Zayn. Nope. Not in the slightest.
It’s a whole three hours since Zayn’s phone call when I finally walk into the ground floor lobby of the building that houses his firm. Lunch time, no less. Perfect. If he’s going to disrupt my day, then I’ll make him work through lunch.
The thought forces my lips to quirk up as I wait for the elevator doors to open, and when they do, there’s a familiar face waiting to step out.
“Hello, David,” I smile at the man I’ve only seen once before. His brows lift in surprise a moment before recognition flashes across his handsome face.
“Hello, Mrs Sanders.” He greets me with a nod, then smooths down his tie as we step around each other.
“Please, it’s Gianna.” I swivel on my heel inside the lift, press the button for floor 38 and flick my hair over my shoulder, pleased when I look back to find David’s eyes are doing a not-so-subtle slow perusal of my body. I’m wearing a black high-waisted mini skirt, a tight black blouse and black heeled ankle boots. My camel coloured coat is flung over my arm and I left my hair down and straight so it falls all the way down to the small of my back. Last time I was in Zayn’s office, I was blindsided and left feeling inadequate next to him. This time I came prepared.
David’s eyes flick back to mine just as the lift doors begin to close, and they look like they’re about to fall out of his head. Perfect. Just the look I was hoping to achieve.
“Bye, Gian -” He says, but the doors close, shutting out his voice with it.
There’s three other clients sitting in the reception when I breeze in and head to the front desk. The same blonde receptionist is sitting behind the desk, and I remember with a frown thinking she had a crush on Zayn the last time I was here.
Had she acted on her crush? Hadhe?
I throw the thought aside. None of my business, regardless of the sick feeling that creeps over me at the thought of them together.
“I’m here to see Zayn,” I say politely when she lifts her head at my approach. Is it just me, or did her smile falter when she saw it was me standing here?
“Take a seat, Mrs Sanders.Mr Romeroshouldn’t be long.”
Her claws are showing when she corrects me.
“Do you knowhowlong Zayn will be?” I ask with a saccharine smile. My claws can be just as sharp. “I don’t have much time.”
I have all the time in the world, actually. But I don’t want Zayn knowing that, or thinking he can just summon me whenever he feels like it. I’m not a dog.
The receptionist, whose name plate saysAbby,gives me a smile as sickly sweet as my own. Let’s just say I’ve been around enough WAGS and women hoping to become a WAG that I can spot a fake smile from a mile away.
“I’m not sure,” she says, before visibly perking up. “He’s taking lunch at the moment.” She thrums her long, pink fingernails against the desk and a sprinkle of unease flutters beneath my skin.
“Lunch?” I cross my arms against my chest and resist rolling my eyes. “Can you let him know I’m here please?”
