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I saw.

“I don’t want to continue this conversation.”

“When you start saying something,” he grits out, “you finish it. That is, if you actually have something to say.”

“If I have something to say?” Laughing bitterly, I close the distance between us. “The team night out at the bar—you had a woman sitting in your lap and looked utterly captivated by her.” I raise one finger. “The Premier Business Awards Gala—you left with a woman you looked ready to fuck right there at the bar, judging by the way you couldn’t take your eyes off her.” A second finger joins the first. “The car races you love so much—you finished them and left with another woman. You didn’t get back to the hotel until nearly morning and were too worn out to even make it to work on time.” A third finger rises. “The first time I got into your car, there was a pair of thong panties decorating the passenger seat.” My voice climbs another octave as I hold up a fourth finger.

But his reaction isn’t what I expect.

I expect denial, excuses, a lie.

Instead, he laughs.

Not the sarcastic sound I’ve come to expect from him, but genuine amusement, warm and effortless, lighting up his entire face.

“What…”

“I’m surprised you even had time to notice me at the gala, considering how absorbed you were with your date,” he says once his laughter fades.

“I told you he’s my friend and nothing more,” I repeat, throwing him a death glare.

“Is a friend and nothing more also the man you skipped an entire day of work for without even bothering to tell me?”

The edge returns to his tone, and those beautiful eyes flare with anger once again.

“No, he’s not just a friend,” I answer, every word dripping with contempt. How dare he accuse me after everything he’s done? “He’s my stepbrother.”

The words barely leave my mouth before his entire expression changes. His eyes stop avoiding mine, the mocking smile vanishes, and so does the fury burning in his gaze.

“You saw me with two men, and they were my stepbrother and my friend, Zayn Thomas.” I say his full name like I’m delivering a verdict. “Meanwhile, I’ve seen you with a lot of women. One of them is your sister-in-law, and the rest…”

The words trail off as I take another two slow steps in his direction. Every ounce of courage I have left gathers inside me as I finally force myself to speak the truth aloud.

“And I disappeared all day because I saw you in that club and couldn’t stand it.”

I don’t know where I find the strength to be this honest with him. Maybe his accusations strip away every last defense I have until the truth spills out on its own.

Even the remorse filling his eyes doesn’t soothe the ache twisting through me. If anything, that softness only makes my chest hurt more.

He has no right to look at me like that now.

“If that’s what you want to hear, yes, spending that night with you affected me far more than I ever imagined it would,” I continue, forcing determination into words that threaten to break apart. My voice cracks more than once, but I keep going. “And that morning, I said all those things because I know the kind of man you are, the kind of life you live, and also…”

“And also?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You’re younger than me, and it’s obvious…”

“That what, Selene?” He pushes off the bed and stops directly in front of me, leaving barely any space between us. “What? You’re barely three years older than me. Fucking hell. Why does this stupid age difference bother you so much?”

Both hands rake through his hair as he exhales a long, frustrated breath.

“At this point, the age difference doesn’t even matter anymore, Zayn,” I admit quietly. “I don’t have time to think about it when every single day you seem to have a new woman to fuck.”

“Jesus.”

His hand reaches for mine, finding it easily since I’m only a few inches away. He draws me close, every part of my body pressing to his, then lowers his head, stopping with his lips hovering dangerously near mine.

“I haven’t fucked another woman, Selene.”