The Cage Tightens
1157 Words
Zayn had been up since dawn.
He’d told himself he was working — reviewing financials, skimming reports — but every line blurred until all he could see was her face.
Lana Pearson.
No, not Lana.
He almost spat the name like poison, but somehow it still tasted like temptation.
He told himself he’d brought her here for one reason — to protect his family, to contain a scandal before it broke apart everything his father had built. That was the justification. The logic. The strategy.
And yet… logic didn’t explain why his sleep had been shredded by flashes of her face.
Why every time he closed his eyes, he could feel the ghost of her breath, the memory of her pressed against the wall in his office, trembling under his voice.
Damn it.
He slammed his pen onto the desk and rose abruptly. The air in his study felt heavy, charged, as if the island itself mocked his self-control.
He’d taken a midnight swim to clear his head, and instead found her sneaking through his office — barefoot, desperate, guilty.
And yet, instead of fury, he’d felt something far more dangerous.
A spark.
Now, as the morning light poured through the glass, one of the villa’s security men appeared at the door, hesitating.
“What is it?” Zayn asked, his tone sharp.
The man shifted uneasily. “Mr. Specter, I… thought you should know. Miss Pearson spoke with Marla during breakfast. She asked to borrow a mobile phone.”
Zayn’s jaw tightened, a dark pulse flickering at his temple. “And?”
“She seemed… persistent. But Marla followed protocol, of course. No phones were given.”
Zayn turned toward the window, the sea blazing in front of him.
So. The little bird was still trying to fly away.
He should have expected it. He had expected it. But the knowledge still made something dark coil in his chest — frustration, yes, but also a perverse sort of admiration.
She wasn’t giving up. Even here, surrounded by his rules, she still fought.
It made her infuriating. And irresistible.
“Thank you,” he said finally, his voice cool and clipped. “That will be all.”
The door closed quietly behind the man.
For a long moment, Zayn stood still. Then, slowly, he exhaled and brushed a hand over his face, trying to release the tension that never seemed to leave him when she was involved.
He didn’t want to frighten her. Not truly. He just wanted her to understand.
To see reason. To stop this game before it hurt people who didn’t deserve it — his mother, his sister, even his father.
And yet… each time he looked into her eyes, all reason burned away.
Those eyes — too clear, too honest — didn’t belong to the manipulative woman he’d imagined. They belonged to someone… innocent.
And that contradiction was driving him mad.
He poured himself a drink, ignoring the hour, and swallowed it in one go. The burn steadied him just enough to think.
He would need to confront her. Calmly, firmly.
He’d make her understand that the sooner she cooperated, the sooner she’d be free.
He had to stop this madness … NOW!
That was the plan.
But when Zayn finally entered the breakfast terrace, the sight that met him shattered that calm into fragments.
She was there — sitting by the edge of the table, sunlight spilling over her skin, her hair loose around her shoulders. The sea breeze toyed with it, and for a moment she looked… unreal.
For a man like Zayn Specter, who prided himself on control, on logic — this was a dangerous kind of beauty.
It was the kind that unmade things.
Lena — Lana, as he still believed her to be — noticed his presence instantly. Her body tensed, the spoon in her hand clinking softly against her cup.
Zayn’s eyes locked on her, unblinking.
She looked guilty. Nervous. Beautiful.
It twisted something in him — desire, anger, confusion — a storm that made his tone colder than he intended when he finally spoke.
“Enjoying the view?”
She blinked, startled by the sharpness of his words. “I was just… having breakfast.”
His lips curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “And asking my staff for favors?”
Her fingers tightened around her cup. “I only wanted to call home. To let them know I’m safe.”
He tilted his head, the sunlight carving the sharp planes of his face. “Safe? That’s exactly what you are, Miss Pearson. Safer than anyone else in the world right now.”
Lena’s pulse jumped. There was something in his voice — calm, smooth, and yet undeniably threatening.
Her throat went dry.
“I don’t feel safe,” she whispered before she could stop herself.
For a second, something flickered in his eyes. A shadow of guilt? Regret? She couldn’t tell. It vanished too quickly, replaced by that same unreadable calm.
“You will,” he said softly. “When this is all over.”
He stepped closer, and she could feel his presence again — that same overpowering aura that seemed to fill the air between them.
Lena straightened her back, summoning every bit of courage she had left. “And when will that be? When I sign your ridiculous papers? When I lie about something I didn’t do?”
He leaned closer, his voice low. “You expect me to believe that my father — a man who hasn’t missed dinner with my mother in thirty years — just happened to be seen with you, dining privately at one of the most exclusive restaurants in the city?”
“I don’t care what you believe,” she shot back, surprising even herself with the force of her voice.
Something dangerous sparked in his expression — not anger this time, but admiration mixed with frustration.
“Careful, Miss Pearson,” he murmured. “You keep challenging me like that, and you might just make me forget why I brought you here in the first place.”
Her breath caught. The air between them thickened, charged.
He stepped back at last, turning away from her. “Finish your breakfast,” he said, his tone tight. “And don’t try to manipulate my staff again. They’re loyal to me, not you.”
Then, without waiting for her reply, he walked away, his broad shoulders cutting through the sunlight as he disappeared down the hallway.
Lena sat frozen, her hands trembling over the untouched food.
The quiet that followed was suffocating.
He knew. He always knew.
And yet, beneath the fear, another truth scared her even more —
That for a moment, when he stood close enough for her to feel his breath, she hadn’t been afraid at all.
She’d wanted to reach for him.
And that terrified her more than anything.
- Writer
