Andrew
I arrive before the city has fully decided to wake up. The air is still, the kind that sits quietly on the surface of things before everything becomes loud and demanding.
I prefer this version of the world. It doesn’t interrupt. It doesn’t expect anything beyond what it’s given.
Duncan steps aside as I enter the suite, then follows closely behind me. I adjust my cuff once and look around. My mind goes back to the last night I was in this suite.
“Duncan, find out what happened to Miss Kyle after the incident.”
“Yes, sir.” He doesn’t ask questions. He never does.
I walk further into the suite, pour myself a glass of water I don’t drink, then set it down, untouched. My gaze drifts briefly to the couch.
The same one she sat on while the doctor examined her.
Dishevelled. Silent. Eyes dull.
I look away. This isn’t about that. This is about procedure. Accountability. Nothing more.
Duncan returns quicker than expected.
“She was suspended, sir.”
I look at him for a few beats. “Explain.”
“The man claimed she came onto him. No one backed her claims and with his influence and connections she didn’t stand a chance.”
Silence stretches between us.
“Do you have her address?” I ask and he nods. Of course he did. He is efficient in everything he does.
“Get the car.”
I don’t usually go to people. People come to me. That’s how it works.
So, why I am in my car heading to the apartment of a woman who had made clear her dislike for men of my walk, isn’t something I intend to over analyse.
I helped her. That was done.
This isn’t obligation. It isn’t responsibility. It was unfinished.
Nothing about how that situation ended sits right with me. So, I am correcting it.
That’s all.
The driver stops in front of an ordinary apartment complex that looks like a standing hazard. How can a person comfortably reside in such a place?
“I spoke to the caretaker on our way here. She lives on the second floor, door 2B.”
I step out and make my way inside. A few minutes later, I am standing in front of her door. I knock once.
No response.
I knock again.
I hear movement from the other side before the door is wrenched open.
Zara stands in front of me. Not Miss Kyle from the hotel. Not the composed, controlled version wrapped in professionalism.
This one is unfiltered. Unguarded.
Hair messy. Clothes loose. Expression sharp with irritation and sleep.
She blinks once then frowns.
“You?” her voice is rough. She has just woken up.
“What are you doing here at—” she glances back briefly. “—seven in the morning?”
“I’d like to have a word with you.”
“Who wants to a have a word with people at seven in the morning? Don’t you have a life or something?”
I let that pass.
“It is something that I guarantee won’t be a waste of your time.”
“I have no interest whatsoever. There’s nothing to talk about. I have nothing to say to you and I definitely don’t want to hear anything from you.”
I look at her properly. This version of her doesn’t perform. Doesn’t adjust. Doesn’t care. Interesting.
She shifts slightly, crossing her arms.
“Was that all?”
“You won’t invite me in?”
She looks at me like that is the most ridiculous thing I could have said.
“What did you expect? Coffee and tasty cakes? We are not friends.”
I reach into my pocket and pull out a card, holding it out to her.
“When you change your mind.”
She looks at it, then at me.
“I won’t.”
“Keep it anyway.”
She slides her irritated gaze to my face. With a slight shake of her head, she snatches it from my hand like it offended her.
“Done?”
I hold her gaze for a second longer than necessary then turn to leave.
“Mr. Carter.”
I stop and turn my head. Her expression, as well as her snappy tone from earlier has changed.
“Thank you. For the other night. For helping me.”
I hold her gaze and for a moment, I see vulnerability in the hazel hues of her overly expressive eyes.
I give a light nod and wordlessly leave.
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She doesn’t call.
Not that day. Not the next. Not the one after that.
I don’t wait on people, I don’t expect calls and I definitely do not extend my stay in a town over something as insignificant as a conversation that never happened.
And yet here I am. Still in the same suite. Still checking a phone that I don’t usually check. Still waiting.
I don’t know when that crossed from observation to irritation, but it did. She had the option. I gave it to her.
She chose not to take it. Fine. That just means we are doing this my way now.
“Duncan.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Where is she?”
“She has been working at a local café. Rosalia’s.”
“Get the car.”
The café is quiet, with warm lighting and a handful of people scattered around.
An older woman behind the counter looks up, her face lighting up immediately.
“Welcome to Rosalia’s. What can I get you this fine evening?”
“Black coffee. No sugar.”
“Anything else?”
“Yes. I’m looking for Miss Zara Kyle.”
She sizes me up and smiles, contented.
“Oh,” she says, almost too pleased. “I’ll have her bring your order.”
“Add a second order, make it whatever she prefers.”
“Of course.”
I take a seat at the farthest table. I never liked eating out. I rarely did.
A few minutes later, a citrus scent hits me before she materializes next to me.
“Here’s your–” she stops mid-sentence. Her expression shifts instantly.
“You again? What are you doing here? Are you following me?”
“I told you to call me.”
“And I told you I wouldn’t.”
“So, we’re doing it my way now.”
I reach for the tray, setting one cup in front of me and the other across the table before turning to her.
“Sit.”
“Sit?” she repeats. “What am I, a dog?”
“Take a seat.”
She looks between me and the coffee, contemplating.
“If I sit. If I listen to whatever you have to say, will you stop showing up everywhere like this?”
“That would be difficult especially after this.”
She exhales sharply, then pulls the chair out and sits.
“Fine,” she mutters. “Talk.”
“Drink your coffee.” Her eyes snap to mine.
“Are you serious right now?”
“Yes”
She gives me a long stare before reluctantly picking up her coffee and taking a sip.
“Happy?” she asks dryly. “Now talk. Some of us have work to do.”
“I have a proposition for you.”
She leans back slightly. “I’m already not interested.”
“You haven’t heard it.”
“Don’t need to.”
I ignore that.
“What the hotel did to you was...inefficient.”
“Inefficient?”
“Yes.”
“No shit.”
I look at her, my patience wearing thin with every snarky comment coming out of her mouth. She lifts her hands slightly.
“Fine. Continue.”
“I want you to work for me.” She looks at me for a few beats then bursts with laughter.
I should have left five minutes ago. The moment she started smart mouthing me. The first sharp remark. The first flicker of defiance in her eyes. That is usually all it took. With anyone else, it wouldn’t have gotten that far. Disrespect isn’t something I tolerated – it is something I erased. People learned that quickly.
And yet, she laughed. Openly. Like I am a joke. Like I am ridiculous.
I let my gaze settle on her, steady and unblinking. The kind of look that made men twice her size fold without a word.
She only falters for a second, her laughter tapering off.
“Oh wait. You’re serious?”
I don’t answer immediately. Because for the first time in a long time, something unfamiliar presses at the edges of my control.
Why am I still here? I could have walked out. Should have. Left her mid-laugh, mid-sentence, mid-existence. But I hadn’t.
I didn’t give chances, and certainly not second ones but here I was.
“Are you through?” I ask with a calmness I do not possess.
“Good. I am being serious. I have a head cook, she requires assistance. You’ll take that position.”
She doesn’t even hesitate.
“No.” As expected, “I already worked for you. Didn’t like it, not doing it again.”
I reach into my folder and slide the contract across the table.
“Look at it.”
“I don’t need to–”
“Look at the damn thing.” I snap.
She snatches it from me, her eyes moving across the document. Then she stops.
“What’s the catch? Why all that money.”
“There isn’t one.”
“This is too much.”
“It’s appropriate.”
“For what?” she presses. “I’m not some charity case. I don’t need your dirty money.”
I wanted to make sure it was an offer that she couldn’t say no to but I don’t tell her that.
“That is what I pay all employees working at my house. It increases as the years of service increase.” It was true.
“Why me?”
“Because, it works for me.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one you’re getting.”
She flips through the contract again, slower this time. She doesn’t argue or throw a snide remark this time. She just stares at the paper like it has complicated her whole existence
“I don’t expect an answer now.” I add. “You have until tomorrow evening.”
“Tomorrow? That’s not a lot of time.”
“It’s enough.” I stand up, adjusting my cuffs before stepping away from the table.
“I gave you the chance to reach out to me, you didn’t and I brought myself. I don’t make a habit of doing that twice. I expect an answer by three pm tomorrow.”
I exit the small café, leaving her with the contract. I know she is tempted to accept it but knowing how prideful she is I can never be too sure about her.
I could blame it on her misfortune. This, me extending an olive branch to her after the unfortunate incident. Me looking for her after she outrightly declined my invite to look for me. Me still offering her the job, a position that isn’t and is not needed in my house, after her blatant disrespect towards me. But I can’t. I would be fooling myself.
Intrigue. That is what led me here. It wasn’t just her defiance. It was everything else. How she still reported back to work after she was almost assaulted. The way she tilts her head before she gives you a piece of her mind.
And her eyes – they give her away before she even vocalizes anything. Flickers of irritation sharpening the green, gold catching when something amuses her, I notice all of it. Too much of it.
It was unnecessary. All of it. And yet, here I was. Dragging her into my world unapologetically.
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and then Add to home screen.