Zaiyo leaned back in his seat, fingers grazing the cool surface of his glass, but his attention was elsewhere. Locked. Fixed. Burning.
She sat at the bar like she owned the damn place. Back straight, legs crossed, her fingers lazily circling the rim of her glass. She had that same untouchable air about her, like no one here was good enough. Like she still thought she was above it all.
But she wasn't.
Not to him.
He could have her. He knew it.
She just didn't know it yet.
The woman across from him was saying something, laughing nervously, shifting under the heat of his gaze. She thought it was for her. Poor thing.
Zaiyo exhaled through his nose, tilting his drink to his lips before setting it down. He let the silence stretch, watched her fidget, waiting for his attention again. He wouldn't give it. Not now.
"I'll be right back," he murmured, voice deep, low, sending a shiver through her. He didn't wait for a response. He was already moving.
Crossing the room.
Closing the distance.
His steps were slow, measured, confident. He knew eyes were on him, felt the weight of women noticing the way he moved, the way his shirt clung to his frame. But he wasn't here for them.
Not tonight.
He slid into the seat beside her at the bar, close enough that the air between them grew thick with something unsaid. She didn't turn right away. She sipped her drink, pretending she hadn't noticed.
Zaiyo smirked.
That was cute.
"You've gotten good at pretending," he murmured, his voice just above a whisper, smooth as velvet. "Still ignoring me after all these years?"
She stiffened. Just a little. Just enough for him to catch it.
Her head turned slowly, dark eyes locking onto his. There it was. That fire. That resistance. That silent dare.
She thought she was unreadable.
She wasn't.
He saw it all.
The way her lips parted just slightly, the way her fingers twitched against her glass. A crack in the mask.
"I don't know you," she said, voice steady.
He laughed under his breath, slow, amused.
"Lying isn't your thing, is it?"
A flicker in her eyes.
She knew what he was doing.
She just wasn't ready for how easily he did it.
"You look good," he continued, voice dipping, settling over her like thick honey. "Better than I remember." His gaze dragged over her, slow and deliberate, letting her feel every second of it. "I wonder if you taste the same."
Her breath hitched.
Just for a moment. Just enough.
But she recovered fast. Her lips curled into something unimpressed.
"That's all you've got? Thought you'd be smoother."
Zaiyo chuckled. His hand slid across the bar, fingers brushing hers like an accident.
"You want smooth?" He tilted his head, lowering his voice like he was telling her a secret. "I can make you forget your own name if I really tried."
Her fingers clenched.
Not much. But enough.
She didn't pull away.
She could. But she didn't.
Instead, she leaned back, crossing her legs, tilting her chin up like she was untouchable again.
"I'm not interested."
Lies.
Zaiyo smirked. He leaned in just enough that she could feel the heat of him, the scent of cologne mixed with something deeper.
"Didn't say you were."
She swallowed. He saw it.
She was trying so hard.
It wouldn't be enough.
Not against him.
He let the silence drag. Let her feel it. Let the moment wrap around her like a noose.
Then he pulled back, just enough to study her face.
"You look like you've been through something," he mused, eyes dark, unreadable. "Boyfriend dumped you?"
Her expression flickered. Just for a second.
Ah.
So that was it.
Zaiyo hummed, dragging his thumb along the base of his glass.
"Let me guess. He thought you were too much work. You thought he was worth the effort." He tilted his head, smirk deepening. "Hate to say it, princess, but you're not as untouchable as you think."
Her jaw tightened.
Bingo.
Zaiyo leaned in one last time, lips inches from her ear, voice nothing but a whisper now.
"I could make you forget him."
She inhaled sharply.
She wanted to slap him.
She wanted to run.
She wanted to stay.
Zaiyo pulled away, throwing a few bills onto the bar. He stood, stretching like he hadn't just unraveled her, then turned, walking away without looking back.
Because she would follow.
Maybe not tonight.
Maybe not tomorrow.
But she would.