WHAT WE NEVER SAID |18+

Messing with Work

Zara’s POV

“Pack up!” the director’s voice boomed across the set, cutting through the buzz of the crew. “The production called. There are some changes in the script, so today’s shoot is canceled.”

I froze mid-step, my gaze darting towards Zayden. He stood at the far end of the set, his smirk as infuriating as ever. I knew it. This had his name written all over it. No one else would have the audacity to pull a stunt like this.

As if sensing my stare, he turned and walked towards me, his stride confident, his presence commanding.

“I’m heading to the office,” he said nonchalantly, stopping just close enough for me to feel the deliberate arrogance in his tone. “I’ve got an important meeting. I’ll see you tonight.”

And with that, he walked away, his friend Ethan trailing behind him. The audacity. The sheer nerve of this man. My hands balled into fists at my sides as I glared at his retreating figure.

You think you can mess with me, Zayden? Think again.

Without wasting another moment, I stormed back to my vanity. My heels clicked sharply against the floor, echoing my growing anger. Once inside, I grabbed my phone and dialed the production office.

“This is Zara Ashford,” I said, keeping my voice firm but calm. “I need to speak with the person who made the call to halt today’s shoot.”

The assistant on the other end hesitated. “Uh, Ms. Ashford, the decision came from… Mr. Drakon. He recently acquired a controlling interest in the production.”

That was all the confirmation I needed. “Thank you,” I said curtly before ending the call.

“This is war, Zayden,” I muttered under my breath.

I flung open the wardrobe in my vanity and scanned through the options. My hand landed on a red bodycon dress—a fiery statement of defiance. With its bare back and perfect fit, it screamed power, boldness, and rebellion.

Dressed to kill, I stepped out of the vanity, my heels clicking sharply against the pavement as I made my way to the waiting car.

“Driver,” I said curtly as I slid into the backseat, “Drakon’s Empire. Now.”

The towering glass building of Drakon’s Empire loomed ahead soon enough. My heart pounded, but I masked it with sheer confidence. As I entered the grand lobby, all eyes turned to me.

The receptionist looked up, startled by my sudden appearance. “Mrs. Drakon,do you have an appointment?” she greeted hesitantly, the title only fueling my anger further.

“I don’t need an appointment,” I said sharply, my voice cold enough to make her flinch. Adjusting my sunglasses, I strode past her without sparing her another glance.

The elevator doors slid open, and I stepped in, my reflection in the polished surface staring back at me. I was no longer Zara Ashford. I was Mrs. Drakon—and this made the situation worse by fueling my anger more.

Brace yourself, Zayden. The game has just begun.

The elevator doors opened to the top floor, where Zayden’s empire was orchestrated. Every corner of the office screamed power and perfection, much like the man himself. But I wasn’t here to admire his taste.

I stepped out, my heels clicking on the polished marble floors, drawing the attention of his employees. Whispers followed me as I walked toward the secretary's desk.

The secretary looked up, startled, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. “Mrs. Drakon,” he stammered, rising to his feet. “Mr. Drakon is in a very important meeting right now—”