Page 30

Valeria

W hat was the best thing about having a stalker? I could imagine anyone under the mask. And right now, my mind was preoccupied with watching Zyon talking to the diamond-class customer and comparing him to the dark-masked man with whom I experienced the best sex ever.

Half-sitting on the bar stool with my arms crossed, I studied Zyon's elegant movements, gestures, and posture, noticing a few similarities here and there. But it wasn't anything significant. I couldn't confirm or deny my suspicion, yet fuck, I madly wanted him to be my secret admirer.

"You know, Mrs. Kellerman," a pretty young waitress cut through my thinking, and I cast her a glance, "people are scared to look at the boss for a second, but you've been staring at him without moving for more than two minutes.

It's getting weird." She winked at me playfully, and I snickered, trying to hide my embarrassment about getting caught.

"I'm thinking about the triplets’ birthday party," I said, taking the cup of coffee she had prepared for me. Daria leaned into the bar, her perky tits pressed in the tight uniform, almost bursting through the thin black fabric. She tucked her lavender-colored hair behind her ear, staring at Zyon.

"The last woman who was able to stand up to him was married to him for six years," she pointed out, ignoring my remark about the upcoming event. She clearly noticed my interest in the boss, which worried me. I didn't need people gossiping .

"And you're telling me this because?" I lifted an eyebrow at her, adding milk to my delicious-smelling concoction.

"You have all the predispositions to become the next Mrs. Zee," Daria chirped; her wide, playful grin was too excited for my liking.

"Is it normal for you to talk with your supervisor like this?" I asked, watching her smile broaden.

"You can't fire me, honey." She shrugged nonchalantly, and I blinked in confusion. "My last name is Zhumagulov."

With that said, she took beers and lemonades on a tray and left to serve the customers. From what I knew, none of the triplets—or their youngest brother I’d found out about online—was married, yet I didn't find anything about them having a sister. Was she a cousin?

Frowning into my coffee, I turned back to look around the space, yet my eyes again landed on the devilishly handsome owner. Zyon leaned against the roulette table, gesturing and explaining something to the two men intently listening to him.

He was in his element, passionately discussing the things that interested him.

His body language and the emotions he emitted literally screamed at everyone around him that he knew what he was saying.

It wasn't just a polite exchange of meaningless phrases.

He was making a point. People hung on every word he said as he skillfully dragged them to his side.

I didn't know the topic, but their expressions proved he’d won them over.

And then, he turned in my direction, and our gazes met.

The intense lighting of pleasurable electricity shot through me, and my entire body tingled.

My heartbeat rapidly increased, and I momentarily froze.

The heat traveled to my cheeks, but I couldn't tear my eyes off of him.

He hypnotized me through the entire room with one simple look.

Zyon excused himself from the conversation in the next few moments and joined me at the bar.

His eyes glowed when he gave me a once-over, and I quickly regretted my choice of dress.

It covered every inch of my body, from my neck to the ankles.

I was anxious about someone noticing the bruises from the belt around my throat or my stalker's handprints on my legs.

He marked me in every way possible, and while the memory of that wild night brought me to life every time I recalled it, I didn't want anyone to notice anything .

"If you keep staring at me like that, I might start imagining things," Zyon pointed out, flashing me an irresistible toothy grin.

"I was thinking," I replied, finishing my coffee and placing the empty cup on the bar. Daria hadn't returned yet, so we had some privacy because the place was relatively empty for a Sunday night.

"About me?" he teased, and for the first time, I decided to test my theory about him being my stalker. It was just a hunch, a blind shot, but what could I lose? If they weren't the same person, I would have to accept it and move on.

"Actually, yes." I nodded, gently sinking my teeth into my lower lip. His eyes fell to my mouth, and he moved closer, leaving only inches of space between us.

"What were you thinking about, Valeria?" he asked, his voice deep, forcing goosebumps to erect over my body. If it were a little deeper, it would match my stalker's voice perfectly.

"I was just imagining how you would look with a skull mask on your face," I answered, my heart almost jumping out of my chest.

The way Zyon looked at me almost knocked me off my feet. I grabbed the bar stool for support because my knees buckled. The blazing fire in his irises licked my skin, causing fireworks to explode inside my chest.

"I love how your mind works," he breathed; some magnetic force pulled us together. If someone was watching us, they could consider our behavior highly inappropriate for a working relationship.

"Sorry to interrupt, love birds." We both flinched when Dorian's grinning face appeared beside us, and he sat on the stool next to his brother. "But we have a situation."

A low, disapproving rumble flew from Zyon's lips as he glared at him and stepped away from me.

"What situation?" he growled, my eyes dilating in shock, and the realization hit me like a baseball bat in the middle of my face. I knew that feral sound. I heard it last night when I teased my stalker. It was him! It had to be .

"Valeria's husband is running around the casino upstairs, demanding to see his wife," Dorian answered calmly, as if discussing the weather, while I was roughly dragged back to the reality that I was still married.

"Great," I mumbled, attempting to walk past Zyon to meet Chester, but he stopped me.

"I'll take care of it," he rumbled, and I instinctively placed my hand on his forearm, trying to calm him a little.

He looked ready to explode, which slightly startled me. If he really was my insanely possessive stalker, I feared he was capable of murdering my husband between the slot machines. There was no way Chester would walk out of here in one piece if I let Zyon deal with it.

"No." I shook my head firmly, holding his scornful look. "I'll take care of it."

"I won't let you go alone," he stated, barely holding himself together. I didn't understand why he was so livid about me meeting Chester.

"It's just a conversation, Zyon," I said gently, squeezing his forearm. "He won't hurt me."

"I'll cut off his filthy tongue if he says something nasty about you," he threatened, and a very inappropriate smile appeared on my lips.

"That's adorable." I grinned and turned to leave.

"I'll show you adorable," Zyon ground out, and I heard Dorian burst into laughter.

"You two are meant for each other," he uttered as they followed me to the elevator.

"I can go alone," I sighed while we waited for the door to open, and they got in behind me.

"That doesn't mean you will," Zyon retorted, turning his broad back on me. I rolled my eyes, earning an elbow nudge from Dorian, who looked like a boy who just got a new toy.

Yet I didn't have time to muse about his expression because my stomach was twisting, and my palms were sweating. I knew I would have to face Chester and his anger one day, but I hoped it would be later rather than sooner .

Exiting the elevator, I walked past Zyon and Dorian, who leaned against the slot machine. Chester stood beside the receptionist's desk with two tall bodyguards watching his every move.

My husband looked exactly like I remembered him; only the bandage holding his arm was new.

His hair was combed back, and his eyes searched the space like he expected an attack.

I didn't know if it was just me or if something weird was happening here as well.

Something that I couldn't put my finger on, but it was present.

Like some silent battle between Zyon and Chester was in motion, and I was in the middle of it.

"Hi," I greeted stoically, seeing in the mirror behind the desk that Zyon watched my every move but played nice for now.

He bounced on his feet beside his brother as if he couldn't wait to intervene, yet he controlled himself.

It made my heart flutter that he respected my decision.

It didn't happen often while I was married to Chester, and it felt great.

"Well, hello, Valeria," Chester hissed through gritted teeth, barely holding his temper on a leash. He was furious.

"What is so important that it couldn't wait until I get home?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest to shield myself from his hateful gaze.

"Home where, hm?" he seethed, approaching me. Knowing Zyon stood close by, I didn't back away. I felt much stronger with him and Dorian watching me.

"What do you want, Chester?" I sighed, intending to deal with him as quickly as possible. I wasn't in the mood for his lies and empty promises. With everything going on in my life right now, he was the last man I was interested in.

"I want you to return home to me and our daughter," he replied with a cocky expression, knocking the oxygen from my lungs.

"What?" I whispered, horrified. The heavy boulder settled in my stomach, and my chest tightened to the point that my heart almost stopped. Zara was my everything. I didn't vouch for myself if he got his nasty paws on her and hurt her.

"I took Zara home with me," Chester stated, briefly glancing over my shoulder where Zyon and Dorian waited. "And it's up to you if you join us or not."

"She's my daughter." My face twisted into an angry snarl, and I fisted my palms, ready to start beating him. "You can't take her from me. "

"I'm her father. I can do whatever the fuck I want."

I siezed his good arm, overcoming an urge to punch him. Different emotions swirled inside of me, but fear for my baby girl was the most prominent. Chester would hurt her only to hurt me; I knew it. The panic almost blinded me.

"Let her go," I pleaded, not knowing what else to do. My husband never reacted well to threats. He mostly smiled in my face when I threatened him.

"You can be with her only under my roof," he declared arrogantly, a smug grin crossing his face. My insides twisted with disgust. I couldn't comprehend how I could spend so many years loving and caring for him.

"Chester, please. That's insane," I said, my knees trembling.

My brain was on high alert, thinking about how to persuade him to leave us alone.

I could wave at Zyon to come and force him to cooperate, but what if he had someone with Zara?

If he covered all the bases, I had to play by his rules; otherwise, my girl could get caught up in the crossfire.

"You're my wife. You belong to me." His eye bored to mine, and I instantly knew I couldn't win this.

"And if you think your new friendship with the Zhumagulovs will change something, you're very mistaken.

I have someone much more powerful than these lunatics behind my back.

So if they try to interfere, they'll die. "

The breath stuck in my throat, and I let go of his arm, staring at him in disbelief. The man before me wasn't my husband. I didn't know this person full of hatred and loathing.

Just the thought of living under the same roof with him almost brought me to my knees, but I had to fight because of my daughter. Never in my life would I abandon her. Her well-being was my priority, and even when my heart was bleeding, I had to agree to Chester's conditions.