The Heirs: Cold-Hearted

Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Tate

Am I surprised when I see Zane Sokolov here after I told him about girl's night? Of course not. Am I surprised it took him nearly twenty minutes to approach me? Slightly.

I hate that I get excited as I see him pushing his way politely through the crowd to reach where I'm standing. These two morons have been chatting me and Imogen up for the last several minutes. Well, Imogen has been doing a great job of completely blowing the one guy off – so unfortunately both their attention has been on me.

"Excuse me," Zane smiles in a friendly-bro-like manner at the guys with us. "Can I borrow these two?"

Both guys' eyes widen slightly when they take in Zane Sokolov. Everyone knows who the Black Wolves are, and they all know Zane. No one would dare fuck with him. Unless they were a Silver Knight, of course.

"Sure man," the one replies quickly.

"Yeah, no problem!" the other says, stepping away like Imogen and I are on fire. I can't help but smile into my drink.

Zane's eyes turn up at the corners as he smiles down at me. That goddamn dimple showing off in full force. He leads me and Imogen away smoothly. Imogen gives me a warning look before going off to the dance floor to watch over her baby chicks.

I bite the corner of my lip as I turn to Zane.

"Heard it was girl's night. Thought I'd check-in!" he smiles.

"You are ridiculous," I shake my head, but I can't seem to stop smiling either.

A weird, excited, demented part of me was kind of hoping he'd show up.

And that terrified me.

Zane Sokolov had been showing up each morning this week to walk me to class. I found myself actually talking back this time, answering his ridiculous questions, asking him questions about his life right back. It was weird, and I didn't like the way it was making me feel. Maybe I was going through some sort of psychological breakdown.

"Who are you here with?" I ask.

He nods over to the VIP section where anyone who is anyone in the Wolves rankings are sitting together. My brother is there too, a faraway look in his eyes. He must be drunk or high. Something tightens uncomfortably in my chest.

"How's he doing?" I ask despite myself.

Zane puts a hand on my shoulder, as if to comfort me. To my surprise, I let him.

"He's fine, Tate. I promise we're taking care of him."

I sigh. I want to be the one who takes care of my brother. I want to be the one he confides in and trusts. Not the fucking Sokolovs.

Zane shakes my lightly.

"Come on, lighten up. I don't like seeing you all sad. I'd rather have you yelling at me, quite frankly," he smiles almost shyly.

Some stitch inside me pulls at the strings.

"What are you drinking?" Zane asks, clearly distracting me.

"Um, vodka soda," I shrug.

His lips quirk up again.

"Is it the good stuff?" he asks.