Zara's POV
I should've known better. This world was full of twists and turns. When I asked myself whether I should regret turning down Ravier's offer, the shameful answer was clear, yes, I should! Leah gave me an earful for rejecting him. Not just that, she cursed me out because I didn't know who Ravier was.
It was clear to me he was a multi-millionaire businessman, I could tell by the way he treated me and the designer labels on everything he wore when we met. But I had no idea he was also an infamous trader and a landlord for most of the high-end blocks in Manhattan. Not to mention, the hotel where our restaurant was located? That was his building too.
I rarely took on the role of an in-home chef for private fine dining events. But when I heard Tom was hosting a private party for all his business associates at this mansion, I volunteered to work here. I had hoped I'd get another chance to meet Ravier. But now, I started questioning my intentions. And if I did run into him again... then what?
"Where's Martin?" Darren, the junior chef assisting me, asked.
"In the wine room, supposedly," I replied, my attention fixed on the tiered stand in front of me that needed to be filled with pistachio macarons. "He said he wanted to switch out the wine for the ice cream sauce."
"It's almost dessert time—should I check on him?" Darren sounded uneasy; it was his first experience in an event with this level of pressure.
"Do you even know where the wine room is?"
"I… I think it's… somewhere in the basement?" he stammered.
I laughed softly. "Let me go check on him. You, finish up these macarons exactly like I was doing."
I slipped off my gloves, tossing them into the trash, then glanced back to see Darren trying to arrange the macarons.
I left him at the garden kitchen stall and guided my steps toward the main house. This mansion was vast, and I knew it wouldn't take long for Darren to get lost the moment he stepped inside.
The wine room was on the second floor, hidden away in the main house. How did I know? I'd been coming to this mansion since high school. Thalia, Tom's sister, had been a close friend for years since I moved to the USA at 16, and I owed my job at The Amethyst to her.
Close, but not too close. Being around Thalia had always felt like walking on eggshells. I was endlessly grateful to her and her family, yet there was always this wall around us, leaving me to wonder if our friendship was ever real or if I was just a convenient presence in her world.
I climbed the marble stairs slowly, as soon as I stepped onto the second floor, I saw the wine room at the end of the hall, its door slightly ajar, just enough to catch my eye. I frowned—why would Martin be so careless, leaving it open? And why was he taking so long just to grab a few bottles for the dessert sauce?
I quickened my steps, but a few feet from the door, I froze. A sound reached me, faint but unmistakable—a soft moan from inside the wine room. I stopped and listening. The sounds grew clearer, breaths and whispers tangled together, lips meeting with an intensity I could almost feel through the walls.
I didn't need to see who was making out in the wine room; I could hear them and know exactly who they were.
"As always, your lips are as soft and plump as ever," Thalia's voice echoed.
"And your ass is still full, so perfect to grip." Martin's low voice made my ears ring.
My legs wobbled, and I leaned against the wall for support. I knew that staying here any longer would only deepen the ache in my chest. I should leave, go back downstairs, and pretend I'd heard nothing. But humans are drawn to misery, and now I had found my own.
"I spent a month tanning in the Maldives, so my ass is a little darker now," Thalia added.
"Oh, I'd love to see it then."
"Now? Here?"
"Not now, babe, I'm still working. Let me finish the dessert session first. Zara's already waiting for this ruby port wine in the garden."
"You've been making love to her while I was away, haven't you?" Thalia's question froze my feet.
"Why? You jealous?"
"Oh, why would I? We're not dating though..."
"Neither are me and her. We don't have to hide what we are, do we?"
"But she loves you because you were the first to claim her."
Bitch! She knew it, then why? I felt like they were stripping me down, exposing my feelings. The pure affection I had for Martin turned into a raw, painful embarrassment I wanted to hide.
"That's why it's kinda... fun having her around. She never asks for commitment but gets wet every time I touch her, ready to spread her legs for me."
"Martin, you're such a jerk," Thalia laughed mockingly.
"Yeah, guess I'm to blame for being good at satisfying women."
And I blamed my own naivety. Even if I were to storm in and confront them, what could I say? I had no right to be angry. As Martin said, we weren't dating, we had no commitment. Leah was right—I'd fallen for him alone, and there was no guarantee he wasn't seeing other women. But why did it have to be Thalia?
I gritted my teeth, closing my eyes. The words from Thalia and Martin hammered my chest. My face burned with humiliation, but no tears would come. I had to leave now, listening to them any longer would tear my heart to pieces.
"She's just as naïve as her father. The reason she won't ever tie you down with commitment is because of him."
Hearing Thalia mention my father made me freeze.
"Yeah, that man's the reason Zara looks so pitiful."
"Shh... but that's not entirely true. Her father's just a bit stupid, and what really happened isn't as it seems. Like I said, they're both too naïve to survive in this world."
My eyes widened at Thalia's words. What did she mean? My body tensed, my fists clenched, and my heart raced faster than before. What was she hinting at?
"What do you mean? Do you know something?" Martin asked, his voice serious.
"Yeah, I just found out... oh, shh... you don't need to know, though..." Thalia's words hung in the air, overshadowed by the sound of their kissing once again.
I couldn't bear to listen any longer. I felt suffocated by their moans, like the room was closing in on me. I gripped my chest, clutching my chef's uniform. I needed air. Quietly, I rushed to the second-floor balcony to breathe in the fresh air.
I stood on the balcony, my breathing ragged. Gripping the railing, I looked out over the garden below, where the party was in full swing, but my mind was lost in a haze.
I wasn't sure what shocked me more: learning that Martin had an intimate fling with Thalia or hearing her bring up my father, casting a shadow I couldn't quite decipher.
I'd known, deep down, that this could happen—maybe one day Martin would find another woman to play with. Or maybe I was just in denial, clinging to the hope that he'd be genuine with his affection, even though we weren't in any commitment. And why should that other woman be Thalia?
I wanted to scream, to let it all out, but something inside me wouldn't allow it. The ache in my chest felt like a cold, heavy stone, but I couldn't shed a tear; the pain was raw, yet I remained still.
My breath came in short, shallow bursts as my gaze drifted over the crowd in the garden below. I'd forgotten what it felt like to break down—like being strong had become my only instinct, my only way of surviving.