Just Once

Chapter 13-Sofia

The city was alive with the hum of early morning traffic, the golden rays of dawn spilling across the skyline. But inside the penthouse, the air was still charged with the intensity of the night. My fingers drummed against the chair's armrest as I replayed Zayden's words in my head. He had stayed over and the tension still lingered in the room.

You're so fiery, Petal.

He had leaned in close, his breath warm against my skin, and the world had tilted for a moment. I hated how he could do that—how he could make me feel like the ground beneath me was unsteady like I wasn't in control.

But I was always in control.

I pushed the thought aside, focusing on the task at hand. The file with Marcus Lang's name lay on the coffee table, a stark reminder of the war we were fighting. A middleman. A thread to pull. And when it unraveled, I would be there to watch the whole thing come crashing down.

I knew what I had to do. And I was well aware of the fact that  Zayden knew more than he let me on. That was understandable, neither of us was up for giving the other more power than necessary. That wasn't the point right now.

Currently, I was at my desk, my coffee untouched for the past thirty minutes. I stared at all the information I had collected about Lang. And I would be lying if I said I wasn't disgusted with the important information I just got. 

My next steps were to arrange a meeting, get to know him personally, and plan my next steps accordingly. The problem you may ask?

I NEEDED Zayden in this. Because from what it seemed, Marcus Lang had a liking for power couples and family people who wanted to do business with him and right now the hot topics of the media were I and Zayden.

By the time I finished outlining the next steps, the sun was fully up, bathing the room in a harsh light that felt almost accusatory. I stood, stretching out the tension in my shoulders, and glanced over at Zayden. He was still lounging on the sofa, his tie loosened, his shirt sleeves rolled up, looking infuriatingly at ease.

"You're relaxed for someone about to go to war," I said, crossing my arms.

He smirked, that infuriatingly confident look never leaving his face. "It's called pacing myself, Petal. You should try it sometime." 

"Sure, whatever you say bunny" I rolled my eye. 

He got up and stalked his way towards me, leaning down to my level. "Mess with this bunny, and you'll find out just how sharp its teeth are," he said.

The conversation ended with him standing, his presence suddenly too close, too overwhelming. I didn't step back. I never stepped back. Instead, I met his gaze head-on, daring him to make the next move.

"You'd better not waste my time, Zayden," I said, my voice sharp. "Because if you do, I'll make you regret it."

His smirk deepened, and for a moment, I thought he might say something infuriatingly cocky. But instead, he nodded, his expression turning serious.

"I'll see you tonight," he said, brushing past me and heading for the door.

When the door shut behind him, I was already dialing my assistant. The world didn't stop for personal distractions, nor did I. Marcus Lang was out there, and he would lead me to The Society. One way or another.

"Get the jet ready," I said when the line connected. "We're going to London."