WHAT WE NEVER SAID |18+

Darling

Zayden's POV

I ran a towel through my damp hair as I stepped out of the bathroom, my reflection in the resort mirror as smug as ever. I picked out a crisp white shirt and black trousers from my suitcase, buttoning up with practiced ease. The faint scent of cologne lingered in the air as I adjusted my cuffs.

Just as I reached for my watch, my phone buzzed on the nightstand. I glanced at the caller ID and smirked—it was Ethan, my best friend.

“Morning, lover boy,” Ethan greeted, his voice dripping with mischief. “How was your first night? Any fireworks?”

I rolled my eyes, putting the call on speaker as I fastened my watch. “Yeah, Ethan. The fireworks were so bright I could barely sleep.”

Ethan snorted. “Oh, come on, don’t play coy. You two hate each other, but hate can turn into something fun real quick, if you know what I mean.”

“Fun?” I repeated, laughing. “You think spending a night with Zara—the most irritating woman alive—is fun? You’re delusional.”

“But she’s hot,” Ethan teased. “Hot and fiery. Admit it, she probably kept you on your toes all night.”

I cut him off sharply, my tone colder than intended. “Don’t even go there. She’s your sister-in-law now. Show some respect, idiot.”

There was silence for a second before Ethan snorted. “Whoa, calm down, dude. Possessive much? You sound like you’re already head over heels.”

I clenched my jaw, annoyed. “Shut up, Ethan. You’re impossible.”

He only laughed harder. “Fine, fine, I’ll stop. For now. But mark my words—you’ll crack first.”

“Goodbye, Ethan,” I said pointedly, cutting the call before he could say more.

As I tossed my phone onto the bed, I noticed something strange—a missed call from an unknown number. Curious, I dialed it back.

“Hello?” a voice answered briskly.

“This is Zayden Drakon,” I said, my tone firm. “Who am I speaking to?”

“Oh, Mr. Drakon,” the voice replied, suddenly professional. “I’m Zara’s manager. Is everything all right?”

I froze for a moment, the pieces falling into place. Of course. That’s how Zara managed to vanish this morning without a trace. She must’ve called her manager to arrange for clothes.

I smirked, leaning back against the dresser. “So, she called you in the morning?”

“Yes, sir,” the manager confirmed. “She asked for an early delivery to the resort.”

It all made sense now. Zara’s wet clothes disappearing, the neatly folded blanket, her note—it was all part of her dramatic exit strategy. Typical.

“Where is she now?” I asked, my voice steady.

“She’s on set for a shoot,” the manager replied hesitantly.

“And where exactly is this set?” I pressed, already planning my next move.

After a brief pause, the manager gave me the location—a beachside shoot near the resort.

“Thanks,” I said, ending the call without waiting for a reply.

I smirked, slipping my phone into my pocket. Zara thought she could pull a fast one on me and vanish without a trace. But she underestimated me.

“Well, well,” I muttered, grabbing my sunglasses. “Let’s see how my dear wife handles a surprise visit.”