Zack sat on the edge of the leather sofa, his eyes locked on Olivia's sleeping form, the beer glass cold in his hand. His fingers clinked against the glass with a soft, repetitive sound, but his focus was elsewhere-on her, on everything that had happened. His face was unreadable, his emotions buried beneath a stone-cold exterior. He had just finished a crucial meeting in France, one that should've kept his mind sharp, but all he could think about was the night before, the danger she had been in.
His thoughts wandered back to the moment he received the news. Carter. The name alone now filled him with a seething rage. His breath had caught in his chest the second he heard about the kidnap attempt. Mike had been the one to deliver the information in the sterile hotel room in Paris. The instant those words left Mike's mouth, Zack felt his control snap.
"You need to calm down, Zack," Mike had urged, stepping back as Zack's fist slammed into the nearby wall. His knuckles bled from the impact, but the pain was nothing compared to the storm brewing inside him.
"Calm down?" Zack had spat back, his voice laced with venom. "He tried to take her, Mike! What if the kids had been there? How the hell am I supposed to calm down?"
He'd paced the room like a caged animal, fists clenched, barely holding himself together. The images played in his mind, Olivia's frightened face, her trying to fight off Carter. And the kids-Zack shuddered at the thought of Zivia being in the house when it happened. The consequences were unbearable to even consider.
Mike had stepped forward again, blocking Zack's path, trying to get through to him. "We'll deal with it, but you can't lose your head now. You need to be smart about this."
But smart wasn't in Zack's vocabulary at that moment. He had wanted blood-Carter's blood-and nothing else.
Now, back in the present, his gaze softened slightly as it lingered on Olivia's peaceful face. She looked so calm, so unaware of how close things had come to disaster. He hated that she hadn't stayed home, that she hadn't listened to him. But more than that, he feared what could have happened if she hadn't been lucky. If Carter had succeeded, if the kids had been there... Zack's chest tightened again.
The sheets rustled, and Olivia stirred, her eyelids fluttering open as she slowly woke from sleep. She blinked, her eyes finding him immediately. "Good morning, Zack," she said softly, her voice groggy but gentle.
"Good morning, Olivia," Zack replied, his voice low, almost a growl. He hadn't meant for it to sound so cold, but he was still wound tight, lost in the storm of his thoughts.
Olivia sensed his unease immediately. She could see it in the hard lines of his face, the way his shoulders tensed as if he was still fighting an invisible enemy. She reached out to him, her hand gentle as it extended toward him. "Come to bed," she whispered, her voice filled with comfort.
For a brief moment, something flickered in Zack's eyes-pain, fear, something deeper that he didn't dare show. He stood up from the sofa, his movements slow, deliberate. Olivia thought he was going to kiss her, that he would pull her into his arms, but instead, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.
"Maybe later," he murmured, his voice rough, before pulling away.
Olivia watched him, confusion and worry creasing her brow. But Zack didn't look back. He left the room quietly, closing the door behind him. The second the door shut, he let out a low groan, his frustration bubbling to the surface. He wanted nothing more than to stay with her, to kiss her, to hold her and make sure she was safe. But he couldn't. Not yet.
His phone buzzed in his pocket, pulling him from his thoughts. He checked the message, his jaw tightening when he saw who it was from-the police commissioner. They had Carter.
