Zoey had always thought that galas ended with champagne headaches, aching feet and maybe a few bad photos online.
What she hadn't expected was the silence that came after.
The Maddox Estate was nothing like the glittering ballroom they had just left.
When the Bentley rolled to a stop, she found herself staring up at tall gates that opened slowly, almost reluctantly, onto a drive lined with ancient trees.
"You live here?" she breathed before she could stop herself.
Zayn didn't answer at first.
He stepped out of the car, came around to open her door, and extended his hand. His expression was unreadable, but his grip was firm, steady, as he helped her out.
"Not live," he said finally. "Endure."
The words puzzled her, but the way he looked at the house like it was both fortress and prison made her chest tighten.
Inside, the air was hushed, heavy with the faint scent of cedar and something older, like candle wax.
Chandeliers shone over the marble floors, but the fire in the big fireplace couldn't chase away the cold.
Zoey shivered, clutching his coat tighter around herself.
"You could have dropped me home," she murmured. "You didn't have to.."
"Bringing you here was safer," he interrupted, his voice clipped.
Her brows drew together. "Safer from what? Paparazzi?"
His silence was louder than an answer.
He guided her into a sitting room with bookshelves that stretched to the ceiling, filled with volumes bound in leather and spines marked with strange symbols .
She stared for a moment, then turned to him.
"Zayn, what is this? What aren't you telling me?"
For once, his composure cracked. His jaw worked, his hands flexed, and he paced the edge of the room like a predator caged.
The firelight threw shadows across his face, deepening the planes of his cheekbones, sharpening the intensity of his eyes.
Finally, he stopped.
His gaze fixed on her, gold flashed in their eyes for a moment then disappeared.
"You shouldn't have met Lucian tonight," he said. His voice was low, almost a growl. "He doesn't take it kindly to outsiders."
"Outsiders?" Her laugh was weak . "I'm not in your club, is that it? Do I need a secret handshake?"
He was at her side in an instant, too close, his presence overwhelming. "Zoey, this isn't a game.
Lucian saw you with me. "That makes you..." He stopped himself, his throat working.
"Makes me what?" she whispered.
His hand hovered near her face, not quite touching, but she could feel the heat radiating from him. "Vulnerable."
Her heartbeat pounded in her ears.
The way he said it wasn't dismissive, wasn't patronizing. It was raw, protective, almost desperate.
But Zoey had never been one to let someone else's secrets define her. "Then tell me why. Tell me what your family is, what you are."
The silence between them stretched.
She thought he wouldn't answer then his lips twisted in a humorless smile.
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."
"Try me," she challenged.
The firelight flickered, reflecting in his eyes, and for the briefest second, she swore she saw that golden flare again. Something not human, something dangerous. Her breath caught.
But before he could speak, a sound shattered the moment. A faint knock, deliberate and echoing through the vast house.
Zayn stiffened, every muscle going rigid.
"Stay here," he ordered, his tone sharp enough to brook no argument.
"Zayn !"
"I mean it, Zoey." His gaze locked on hers, fierce, commanding, and then he was gone, striding down the hallway with a predator's silence.
Left alone, Zoey wrapped her arms around herself. The fire crackled, but it did little to soothe the chill creeping up her spine.
Her eyes roamed the shelves again, tracing the strange markings on the spines. Words in languages she didn't recognize. Symbols that made her skin prickle.
Her phone buzzed in her clutch. She pulled it out and glanced at the screen.
Trending again, Hastag #ZaynAndZoey at the Gala#.
Photos already everywhere her hand in his, his arm around her, the two of them locked in a dance that looked far more intimate than it had felt.
Except, that wasn't true. It had felt exactly that intimate. And that was the problem.
She set the phone down with a sigh, pressing her hands to her temples. "This is insane," she whispered. "It's all pretend. Just pretend."
So why did her body still remember the warmth of his hand on her back, the way his voice had wrapped around her on the dance floor like a promise?
The knock came again closer this time. Not at the front door. At the window.
Zoey froze. Slowly, she turned.
The curtains shifted, stirred by something more than the wind. A shadow passed across the glass, tall and deliberate.
Her heart leapt into her throat. "Zayn?" she called, her voice trembling.
No answer.
The curtain parted slightly, and a face appeared in the dark.
Lucian.
Zoey stumbled back, her breath catching. His eyes met hers through the glass cold, sharp, and far too knowing.
He smiled, slow and dangerous, then lifted a hand to tap one finger against the window. Once. Twice. A sound that felt like it echoed inside her skull.
"Zoey."
Her name wasn't spoken aloud, but she heard it. Felt it. Inside her head.
She gasped, clutching her temples.
Then Zayn was there, moving so fast she didn't see him until his hand tore the curtain closed. His other arm wrapped around her, steadying her.
"Don't look at him," Zayn commanded, his voice fierce.
"What...what was that?" she whispered, shaking. "He was ....he was in my head "
His grip on her tightened. "I told you. You're vulnerable now. And Lucian he doesn't play fair."
Her pulse thundered, but beneath the fear was something else.
Something hot and unsteady that came from being pressed so close to Zayn, from the raw fury radiating off him on her behalf.
Her gaze lifted, meeting his. "Then protect me."
The words were out before she could stop them. A challenge, a plea, both.
Zayn's breath caught, his eyes darkening, torn between restraint and something far more dangerous.
Slowly, his thumb brushed her cheek, the touch at once gentle and claiming.
"You don't know what you're asking," he murmured.
"Then show me."
For a moment, neither moved.
The fire popped, the night pressed against the windows, and the world seemed to hold its breath.
Zayn leaned in, his lips so close she could feel the heat of his breath.
But just as the space between them vanished, he pulled back, jaw clenched, eyes burning with something she couldn't name.
"This can't happen," he said harshly. "Not now."
Her chest ached with the rejection, but beneath it burned a dangerous certainty.
Whatever this was between them it was no longer pretend.