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“Unlock it,” he orders, lifting my phone and holding it in front of me.

The screen unlocks the instant it recognizes my face. He waits a couple of seconds, then draws it back to himself and starts scrolling through it without the slightest hesitation.

I don’t stop him.

There’s nothing on it I need to hide.

“What are you doing?” I ask, curious.

“Making sure he can’t contact you again.” His eyes remain fixed on the screen.

Judging by the way they’re moving, he’s reading something.

Probably Axel’s messages.

Even that doesn’t bother me.

I’ve already told him things far more embarrassing. Seeing part of it with his own eyes doesn’t change anything.

Zayn sets my phone down and picks his own instantly, types something quickly, then locks it and places it beside mine.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner, Selene?” He asks, his voice calm but serious. “Why didn’t you say anything when you got that message at the casino in London?”

I knew he saw it.

He was standing too close not to.

“I don’t think you can just start a conversation by announcing you broke up, Zayn,” I reply, a trace of irony slipping into my voice. “Besides, it’s not a subject I want to talk about. And our conversations didn’t exactly leave much room for personal topics.”

“Since when?” he presses, ignoring my remark.

“Six months,” I answer without hesitation. “We broke up on New Year’s Eve—when he was way too drunk to pay attention to his phone and started getting messages from her while trying to take a selfie kissing me.”

The memory sends a shudder through me.

Not because it hurts.

Because it disgusts me.

“And all I felt was relief. I was relieved I could go home alone, that I didn’t have to deal with him being drunk, and that I didn’t have to…” My voice drops. “…do anything with him.”

The last words come out so quietly they’re almost lost.

But the low, restrained sound that leaves Zayn’s throat tells me he heard every one of them.

“I think we should go, Zayn,” I say, slowly getting to my feet. Just as I expected, the wine has fully caught up with me, leaving my movements slow and unsteady.

“Easy,” he murmurs, standing immediately and slipping an arm around my waist to keep me upright. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” I rest my forehead against his chest, letting him guide me to the exit. “I just want to go to the hotel.”

After a brief pause, I tighten my fingers lightly around his shirt.

“Thank you for answering, Zayn. I really want him to leave me alone.”

He doesn’t say a word.

Instead, his arm tightens around me, holding me a little closer.