CHAPTER 19: CHAPTER 19: AFTERTASTE OF FIRE

I didn’t know how far I’d go until I saw him beneath me, trembling, exposed, desperate for release that only my voice could offer.

That night, I used nothing but my voice on him, low, firm, sinful. Repeating my voice, giving him orders, praising every twitch and moan that escaped his mouth. Over and over again, I spoke him to the edge until he shattered in my hands, utterly drained... completely undone.

I didn’t touch him with my hands.

He came for me, multiple times, like his body answered to something deeper than touch, like it knew me, like it needed to obey.

When it was finally over, he collapsed in front of me, his breathing shallow, his skin slick and glowing under the dim lights. His body trembled as if he had just survived a storm. A beautiful, merciless storm. Mine.

And I... God, I was still so painfully hard.

Holding back took everything in me. One wrong move, and I could’ve ruined it all. One selfish second, and I could’ve crossed a line I promised myself I wouldn’t.

I looked at him, so still, so vulnerable, like something pure that had accidentally wandered into the mouth of a wolf. My chest tightened. I didn’t know what the hell he had done to me, but I knew it was too late to walk away unaffected.

He looked so damn attractive, even like this drained, exhausted, trembling. My gaze roamed slowly over his body, admiring the curves of his muscles, the way his chest rose and fell gently. His lips slightly parted, hair damp with sweat, lashes casting shadows over his cheekbones. He looked like sin and innocence, all wrapped in one dangerous gift.

I couldn’t stop staring. My body was screaming to touch him, to take him completely, to mark him, to make sure he never forgot who made him feel this way.

But I didn’t.

Instead, I controlled myself, clenched my fists, swallowed the ache in my throat, and bent down. Gently, I lifted him off the floor and carried him to the bed. He was heavy in my arms, his body warm and pliant, trust leaking from his unconscious form. That trust scared me more than anything.

I laid him carefully on the bed, pulling the sheets over his body, covering all that bare skin before I lost control. Then I bent down and kissed his forehead.

Softly and quietly.

I don’t know why I did that. But I did.

Maybe I just wanted to feel close to something again. Maybe I wanted to be seen as something other than a shadow.

It was the first time in four years that I smiled. A real smile. And I whispered to the sleeping man, "Why do you attract me this much?"

He didn’t answer, of course.

Just lay there, peaceful, and wrecked all at once.

I sat beside the bed for a while, watching him sleep like a child. Unbothered. Unaware of the storm he’d walked into. I could’ve reached out. Could’ve traced the line of his jaw, pushed his hair back, or leaned in just to feel his breath on my lips again.

But I didn’t.

I had to walk away.

Before the hunger inside me swallowed us both.

I slipped a card under the lamp and paid payment for his time, even though it felt hollow and cold now. As if putting a price on the night, it will be reduced it to something transactional. But what else was I supposed to do? He was straight. I’d heard it already. And I knew this was probably a one-time thing for him. A mistake. A blur in the night he’d pretend never happened.

Even if every second was etched into my skin.

I stepped out before I could change my mind.

Outside, the wind was sharp. I closed my eyes and let the night burn into me, the memory of him still fresh in my veins.

I told Mr. Karl to make sure the hotel and bar staff didn’t give out any information if he came looking. Not because I was hiding. But because... I didn’t know what I was doing. I didn’t want him to know me.

Nobody really knows me anyway, not beyond what they see on TV, what the media spins, or what my father scripts for his benefit.

But things were changing.

The next day, I was scheduled to appear on national television. My father had announced that I would be taking over Draeven Holdings, his empire, his legacy, his twisted show of power. I’d refused him more times than I could count. I didn’t want it. Not the title. Not the pressure. Not the leash.

But my mother begged me.

Not because she believed in the company or the power behind it. But because every time I defied my father, he took it out on her. With words. With cold indifference. With accusations that she’d failed as a mother.

So I agreed.

Not for him.

For her.

I promised I’d show up. Smile. Say the words. Pretend to be the perfect heir for a few weeks, then disappear if I wanted. Just long enough to keep my mother from carrying the weight of my rebellion.

Mr. Karl handled the rest. I trusted him. He made sure no one at the hotel or the bar linked the night back to me. He confirmed that Zayn, his name still tasted like warmth and danger, had already signed out the next morning. He’d asked questions, tried to know who I was. But they gave him nothing.

Just like I instructed.

The bar reached out, and they said he came by, asking again. But again, no details were given. And that should’ve been the end of it.

But it didn’t feel like the end.

Because I couldn’t stop thinking about him. About the way his voice cracked when he moaned. The way he trusted my voice like it was his truth. The way his eyes locked with mine as if he saw something in me no one ever had.

I wanted to see him again.

But I had no excuse.

I told Mr. Karl to dig up everything he could on Zayn.

I didn’t want just a name and a number. I wanted details, his background, his business, his habits, even the way he took his schedule if he had a routine. I wanted to understand the man who, in one night, managed to slip past every defense I’d spent years building.

Then the announcement day came.

It was supposed to be a milestone, my formal introduction as the heir to Draeven Holdings. Cameras lined the room. My father stood beside me like we were something close to family. Cold, perfect, and untouchable.

He announced my name to the world, declared me his blood and the next in line. I watched the TV coverage replay later that night, but my focus wasn’t on the business or the fake smiles. I kept wondering, was Zayn watching too?

Something in my gut told me he was. And that scared me.

Because if he’d been hoping to know me... truly know me... then seeing me on that screen would change everything.

Not just because of who my father was, but because of what he stood for. The man who preached purity and composure. The man whose name had never once been tied to scandal. And especially not anything as "unforgivable" as having a gay son. For someone who’s homophobic.

Knowing that... would Zayn pull away? Would he regret ever wanting or crossing paths with me?

That thought burned deeper than I expected.

When I got home, I didn’t hesitate.

"Mr. Karl," I said, loosening my tie as I stepped into my living room, "did you find anything?"

He nodded like he’d been waiting. "Yes, sir. Everything you asked for."

He handed me the file, neat and thick with information.

Zayn Smith. Age twenty-five. Owner of one of the most successful restaurants in the city. Well-respected. Low profile. No major scandals. Built everything from the ground up.

He was older than me, just by two years. I had only turned twenty-four not long ago, and he’d be twenty-six in a few months. Still, the way he carried himself, the quiet power in his presence, made that small gap feel like a chasm I wanted to cross.

I traced his name with my thumb.

He wasn’t just a one-night escape. He was someone who worked for his peace, who built a life on his own terms. That only made me want him more.

Then I asked Mr. Karl, "What about his home address?"

He replied, "He lives in the same direction as his restaurant. They’re not far from each other."

That got more of my attention.

He paused for a second before adding, "That area is also close to Mr. Chrisly’s new house."

I closed the file slowly, a small laugh slipping from my lips.

"Let’s pay Chrisly a visit tomorrow," I said, glancing at Mr. Karl with a spark in my eyes.

He raised an eyebrow. "Are you really serious about this?"

I met his gaze without hesitation. "I’m more than serious."

I was supposed to move on after that night. Treat it like nothing. But the more I learned, the more I realized, I didn’t want to forget him.