The Mirror's Lie

Rejection

Lena glanced down at the watch strapped to her wrist.

Only one hour left till landing.

She exhaled a small, shaky breath — half relief, half exhaustion. The sound escaped her before she could stop it, a quiet, desperate whisper of escape.

One more hour.

Just sixty minutes until she could step off this plane and away from the gravity that was Zayn Specter.

She’d thought turbulence was bad. She’d been wrong. The real turbulence was sitting in seat 1A, in an immaculate suit and an air of quiet dominance that seemed to bend the world around him.

The man was… intoxicating.

Every time she passed by, she could feel his presence before she even saw him — like static in the air, invisible and electric. She didn’t dare look at him too long after the lavatory episode, not when his eyes had the unnerving ability to pull her in and strip her defenses bare.

He had spent the flight toying with that power, intentionally or not. A lingering glance here, a faint smirk there, a voice that dropped just enough to make her heart trip.

And God help her, it worked.

Her pulse still hadn’t settled from their brief encounter outside the lavatory. That fleeting brush of contact — his shoulder against hers, his scent, that voice murmuring so close to her ear — it had lit a spark under her skin that refused to die down.

But as strong as that pull was, the relief of nearing the flight’s end was stronger.

She needed distance.

Air.

Space to think.

Because whatever was happening between them — whatever this strange, breathless tension was — it couldn’t lead anywhere good.

She risked a glance toward the front cabin. Zayn was reclined in his seat, reading something on his tablet. Calm, unbothered. Yet even like that — especially like that — he radiated control, power, temptation.

How did anyone work with him, day after day, and stay immune?

Probably, she thought grimly, they didn’t.

He was the kind of man who tested boundaries simply by existing. The kind who could make a woman forget her better judgment with a look. And she was no fool — she knew exactly what those lingering looks and low-voiced comments meant.

He’d been showing interest. Openly. Boldly.

It surprised her. And it terrified her.

Because Zayn Specter wasn’t just another man. He was a walking heartbreak — wrapped in silk and confidence, dangerous precisely because he didn’t have to try.

Lena adjusted a tray on the galley counter, trying to steady her hands.

Her sister’s voice echoed in her head, teasing and carefree: “Loosen up, Lena. Live a little. You’re too young to be so serious.”

Maybe Lana was right. Maybe she was too careful. Too cautious. Maybe she’d built her world so safe that she’d forgotten how to feel alive.

But this? Whatever this was between her and Zayn — this wasn’t living. This was playing with fire while standing barefoot in gasoline.

Her gaze slid to him again. His profile was sharp, clean, elegant. The strong line of his jaw flexed slightly as he read, the faintest crease forming between his brows. Even that small imperfection made her chest tighten.

He looked like someone who belonged to another world entirely.

The kind of man who dated supermodels or heiresses — women with pedigrees, designer lives, and a confidence that matched his. Not someone like her.

Not Lena Pearson, the quiet girl who spent most of her time behind a desk buried in spreadsheets and quarterly reports.

Not the one who only wore heels when absolutely necessary, whose biggest thrill was finishing a romance book in one night.

Correction — right now, she wasn’t even that. She was a flight attendant. Pretending to be her sister. Playing a role she barely understood.

The last thing she needed was complications.

Or temptation that looked like sin carved into a man’s face.

She pressed her hand against her chest, feeling her heartbeat beneath her palm. It was wild, reckless — so unlike her.

Zayn glanced up at that exact moment, catching her looking. His eyes found hers, holding them with a quiet challenge that stole her breath. Then, slowly, that damnably confident smile curved his lips — the one that made women forget their names.

Lena turned away quickly, pretending to check a passenger list. But the warmth in her cheeks betrayed her, and she hated the way her body reacted to him — the flutter in her stomach, the tightening in her throat, the way her knees felt less steady than they should.

He was danger dressed in a tailored suit.

And she wanted distance.

Because deep down, beneath the tension, beneath the attraction, she knew a truth she didn’t want to face: If she ever surrendered to Zayn Specter, even once — if she let herself fall into that orbit, into that intoxicating pull — he’d ruin every other man for her.

No one would ever compare.

No one would ever measure up.

And that… terrified her more than anything.

So, she lifted her chin, steadied her breath, and whispered to herself, “Just one more hour.”

But as the minutes ticked by and Zayn’s eyes met hers again — sharp, knowing, and far too patient — Lena had the sinking feeling that time wasn’t her ally.

Because some storms don’t end when you land.

Some follow you — dark, relentless, inevitable.

And this one had blue eyes and a name that was already burned into her thoughts.

--

Zayn Specter prided himself on being a man in control.

Of his company.

Of his life.

Of his emotions.

But ever since the woman who called herself Lana Pearson had stepped into his line of sight, control had become a rapidly vanishing luxury.

He’d felt it from the first moment she appeared — that pulse of something he didn’t want to name. Attraction. Curiosity.

Now, as he sat back in his first-class seat watching her move about the cabin, he could see it in her eyes too — those flashes she tried so hard to bury under politeness and professionalism. Sparks. Quick, electric, unintentional.

And damn it, they were directed at him.

He adjusted his position slightly, a subtle shift that did nothing to disguise the growing tension in his body as he adjusted discretely his arousal.

He despised how she made him feel — off balance, unsettled, … human. His pulse quickened every time she walked by. Every time her scent lingered in the air. Every time she looked at him like she didn’t know whether to run away or lean closer.

Zayn let out a slow breath through his nose, clenching his jaw. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

He’d boarded this flight with one mission — to deal with her, cleanly and efficiently. To remove her from his father’s life and restore the fragile balance of his family.

But his body had other plans.

He wasn’t used to losing focus, especially not because of a woman. Yet here he was, his c**k betraying him every time she smiled that uncertain smile or nervously folded her hands.

Hell.

What made it worse was how she tried to hide it — her attraction. How she forced her face into composure, her voice even, her words professional.

It only made her more intriguing.

She wasn’t flirting. She wasn’t chasing. She was fighting it — fighting him — and that sent a thrill through his veins he hadn’t felt in a very long time.

Most women he met either swooned or schemed. But this one? She looked like she didn’t want to want him.

And that… was dangerously appealing.

He watched her as she moved down the aisle, the soft sway of her hips restrained by the professionalism of her uniform. A perfect balance — innocence and temptation, grace and hidden heat.

He almost laughed under his breath, bitterly.

She was good. He had to give her that. Playing hard to get, pretending to be the perfect, modest flight attendant. The act was flawless — almost too flawless.

But he knew better.

Behind that polished exterior was the woman who had somehow tangled herself into his father’s life. His father — the most loyal man he’d ever known, that he never strayed or caused any scandal. The thought alone made bile rise in his throat.

So why the hell was he reacting like this? He should be disgusted by her.

He shifted again, irritation and desire warring in his veins.

The chemistry between them was undeniable — frustratingly so.

He wasn’t supposed to notice the warmth in her voice.

He wasn’t supposed to imagine what that mouth might taste like or how it would look wrapped around him c**k.

And he definitely wasn’t supposed to feel his control slipping.

When the plane finally touched down, relief and tension washed over him in equal measure.

Time to act.

He wasn’t about to leave things as they were. If seduction was the only way to break her game, then so be it. He could play that part better than anyone, he never failed.

As the cabin lights brightened and passengers began to stir, Zayn waited for the right moment. When she approached to thank him for flying with them — her smile polite, her voice steady but softer than before — he looked up at her and let his tone drop, smooth and warm.

“Lana,” he said, his voice like velvet edged in command. “You’ve made this flight surprisingly pleasant. Allow me to return the favor. Let me give you a ride to your hotel.”

The invitation hung between them, charged.

He’d expected the usual response — a flattered blush, a quick acceptance. That’s how it always went.

But instead, she blinked, startled, before shaking her head with a polite, almost apologetic smile.

“Thank you, Mr. Specter,” she said softly, “but I’ll be taking the company coach with the rest of the crew.”

Zayn stared at her for a beat, almost not believing he’d heard right.

She refused him.

Him.

He leaned back slightly, tilting his head as he studied her face. No teasing in her eyes. No coyness. Just quiet, unwavering resolve.

He tried again, just to see if she’d bend. “Are you sure? It would be no trouble. I’d prefer to make sure you get there safely.”

Her lips curved, the faintest ghost of amusement touching her features. “That’s kind of you, sir. But really — I’ll be fine. Plus, I can assure you that our company is taking care very well of its employees and ensure all the necessary logistics to keep us safe.”

And just like that, she was gone.

Joining the rest of the crew.

Leaving him speechless.

Zayn’s jaw flexed as he watched her walk away, the sway of her hips the only evidence of her lingering presence.

He felt something twist inside him — frustration, disbelief… and something darker.

He’d underestimated her.

He’d thought she’d be easy — predictable, like all the others of her kind. But instead, she’d turned the tables on him without even realizing it. Her refusal, that quiet self-control, had just made her infinitely more intriguing… and frustrating.

Damn it all.

He ran a hand down his face, biting back a curse. The rational part of him screamed to let it go — to treat this like the business matter it was and use his usual harsh methods and dominance. But the other part, the one that had started to stir the moment she first smiled at him, wasn’t listening.

Her making him chase her awakened something primal — the part of him that thrived on challenge, that wanted to dominate, to conquer, to understand.

And beneath the polished surface of the businessman, another side stirred — the darker one he kept locked away… the Dom. The one that liked control not just in the boardroom or bedroom, but everywhere.

As he stepped off the plane, his jaw set in grim determination.

This was far from over.

If Lana Pearson thought she could make a fool out of him — of his family — she was sorely mistaken.

Because when Zayn Specter decided to win — no one ever left unscathed.