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Then my phone vibrates in my small purse.
I blink, pulling it out — and my stomach sinks.
Cristóbal.
I quickly press ignore, slipping the phone facedown on my lap. I’ll call him back later.
But not even ten seconds pass before it buzzes again.
Cristóbal. Again.
I chew my lip, glancing sideways at Zasha, who hasn’t so much as flicked an eye in my direction — but somehow, I know he’s aware of every shift in my breathing.
The phone buzzes a third time, insistent.
I sigh softly and swipe to answer.
“Cristóbal,” I murmur.
“Finally!” His voice comes through sharp, agitated, the familiar sharp Spanish bite I’ve known since childhood. “Where the hell have you been, Xiomara? I’ve been trying to reach you all evening,” He rants. “Did you see my messages?”
“I’ve been busy,” I say quietly, glancing nervously at Zasha. “I’ll call you back.”
“Busy with what?” Cristóbal demands, his tone laced with suspicion. “You’ve been avoiding me for days now and—”
“Cristóbal,” I interrupt, firmer now, “I said I’ll call you back.”
He lets out an annoyed exhale, muttering something under his breath before I finally hang up and slide the phone back into my purse.
Silence fills the car again — but now it’s different. Tighter.
I can feel it in the way Zasha’s jaw shifts slightly, the faintest flicker of tension in his shoulders, the way his grip on the steering wheel subtly tightens.
Neither of us says a word.
I stare out the window, my heart sinking as the electricity from earlier fades into something more brittle. I don’t know what Zasha’s thinking—if he’s annoyed, suspicious, or simply shutting himself off again—but I know the air between us has shifted. The rest of the ride is quiet. A sharp, stretched silence, like a thread pulled too tight.
When we finally reach my family’s estate, Zasha pulls up smoothly, parking without a word. For a moment, we both sit there, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down hard.
“Thank you for tonight,” I whisper softly, glancing at him.
His eyes flick toward me, unreadable. He gives a faint nod, but says nothing more. I gather my things, slipping out of the car into the cool night air, heart heavy.
As I walk toward the front steps, I feel his gaze follow me, but I don’t look back.
7
Chapter 5
Zasha
The door closes behind Viktor, Lev, and me as we leave Thiago Delgado’s study.
Outside, the night air bites cool against my skin, sharp enough to clear the lingering tension from the negotiations. We got what we came for: an agreement, a path forward, the foundations for the alliance we’ve been chasing for years.
It should be enough.
But as we walk toward the waiting car, my mind drifts — not to the deal, not to the territory, not even to the upcoming shipment schedules.