Zayn glares at me, his jaw clenched and his nostrils flaring as he takes me in.
“Are you ready to go? I’ll take you home,” he finally says, reaching for my arm. I dodge his grasp and walk past him, heading back into the ballroom.
“I’m going to say bye to Lenny, and then I’ll get myself home, thanks,” I retort over my shoulder. He catches up and takes my elbow gently before I can pass through the doors, spinning me around.
“Lenny?”
“The DJ.”
“Ah, the one who’s been besotted with you all night.”
“Besotted?” I snort. “He’s barely twenty.”
“He’s a man with eyes, Gianna.”
“Whatever, I’m still saying bye.”
I yank my hand away and storm off, but his next words make me halt in my tracks once again. “You’re not getting yourself home dressed like that.”
I whip around so quickly my long hair wraps around my heaving chest. I guess I’m about to find out what he finds so personally affronting about my dress. “And how exactly am I dressed, Zayn? Tell me please why my choice of outfit is so damn bad?”
Tell me, so I can file you away as another fucking controlling asshole and leave you behind for good.
The haunted look I caught earlier returns to his gorgeous face, making my breath catch in my throat. I was expecting the fury to return, but his dark eyes, usually so sharp and assessing, soften with something indistinguishable. My chest cracks open.
“You’re dressed like I’m a kid and you are all my Christmases come at once.”
My heart stutters. My stomach plummets.
Zayn sniffs as he shoves his clenched fists into his pockets.
“The irony of it all,” he continues slowly, his deep voice low and steady, “is that I can’t fucking have you. It’s the cruelest form of torture. You’re finally within my grasp, yet you’ve never been so fucking far away.”
I start to shake as Zayn stalks closer. He’s only reiterating what I already know. He wants me physically. I’m like a gift for him. Something to unwrap and touch and play with, then discard when he loses interest. David’s words haunt me as Zayn’s chest grazes against mine and I’m tilting my head back to stare up at him.
I’ll never be able to keep up with Zayn, the big hot shot lawyer. I’ve achieved nothing in my life, and Zayn literally just won a handful of awards for his excellence in law, for Christ’s sake. We’re worlds apart, and that feels like my heart is being shattered all over again. And that’s exactly what I didn’t want to happen. Again.
Zayn lifts a hand, but I step back before he can touch me.
“I told Monica she was free to take you home, as per your little tradition,” I say, my voice cracking. I avert my gaze. “So please, don’t let me get in your way.”
Jealousy punches into my gut, but it’s for the best.
“You did, did you?” Zayn says, the anger slowly returning to his voice. “Offering me up on a silver platter to anyone that isn’t you, is that how it is? I sure as fuck won’t be returning the favour, I’m afraid.”
Anger of my own licks at my skin.
“Why did you invite me here tonight, Zayn? Because I can’t say I feel like you’ve been enjoying my company.”
“Why do you think?” He challenges me.
“Anna said it was a ploy to get me on a date.”
He pauses, and our eyes lock. When he holds my gaze, my stomach goes jittery.
“She was always smart, wasn’t she?”
My mouth hangs open at his admission. “But, why? You’ve been angry at me all night for God only knows what reason! What was the point of getting me here for that?”
