Little Flame

CHAPTER FIFTEEN: BRIANNA

The crisp night air was a welcome relief as I stepped out of the wedding venue, the muffled sounds of laughter and music fading behind me as I walked toward my car, my heart still thrumming with a mix of adrenaline and confusion. 

The evening had been a blur of emotions—Leah’s and Sophie’s antics, the ridiculous game, and, of course, *him*. I shook my head, trying to push the image of Zane’s dark, knowing eyes out of my mind, but it was no use. His presence lingered, like the faint scent of his cologne that still seemed to cling to my skin. 

The cupboard. 

I exhaled sharply, rubbing my arms as though to dispel the memory. There was something unnervingly disarming about Zane Moretti. He had a way of getting under my skin, of making me feel seen in a way that left me vulnerable—and I hated it. 

But hate wasn’t the right word. Not really. 

My fingers trembled slightly as I unlocked the car, slipping into the driver’s seat. The venue’s warm lights reflected in my rearview mirror as I sat there, staring blankly ahead. I needed a moment to collect myself, to get my thoughts straight. 

The door of the venue creaked open , and I caught a shadow moving toward my car. My pulse quickened, though I already knew who it was before I turned. 

“Leaving without saying goodbye?” Zane’s voice broke the quiet, smooth and laced with that familiar teasing tone. 

I turned to see him standing there, his hands in his pockets, his tailored suit still impeccable despite the long night. The way he looked at me, like I was the only thing worth noticing in the world, made my chest tighten. 

“I didn’t think anyone would notice,” I said.

“Didn’t think *I’d* notice?” he countered, stepping closer. 

I sighed, leaning my head back against the seat. “I needed some air. The night’s been… a lot.” 

Zane tilted his head slightly, “A lot of fun? Or a lot of me?” 

My lips curved into a reluctant smile, but I didn’t answer. 

He leaned against the car door, close enough that I could see the faint stubble on his jaw and the spark of amusement in his eyes. “You’re not an easy woman to figure out, Brianna Castellano,” he said softly. 

“Good,” I replied, meeting his gaze. “I don’t intend to be.” 

For a moment, neither of us said anything. The silence between us wasn’t uncomfortable, though—it was heavy, charged with something unspoken. 

“Why do you keep doing this?” I asked finally,“Showing up, saying the perfect thing, making me—” I stopped, biting my lip, but it was too late. 

“Making you what?” he pressed, his tone gentler now. 

I shook my head, looking away. “Forget it.” 

Zane didn’t move, didn’t push, but his presence alone was enough to fill the space with tension. “Brianna,” he said softly, my name rolling off his tongue like it belonged to him, “If I’m wrong about all of this, tell me. I’ll leave you alone.” 

My throat tightened, But the thought of him walking away left her feeling strangely hollow. 

“You’re not wrong,” I whispered. 

Zane’s eyes softened, and the small smile that tugged at his lips wasn’t smug or triumphant—it was warm, genuine. 

“Good,” he said simply, his voice steady. “Because I’m not going anywhere.” 

I exhaled, my grip on the steering wheel loosening. I didn’t know what to say, didn’t trust myself to speak without unraveling. 

“Drive safe, Brianna,” Zane said. “I’ll see you soon.” 

And with that, he turned and walked back toward the venue, leaving me alone in the stillness of the night. 

As I drove away, the tension in my chest remained, mingling with something else entirely—something that terrified me as much as it thrilled me. 

Zane Moretti wasn’t just walking into my life. He was changing everything. 

Author's note:

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