CHAPTER 198: CHAPTER 198: WHO ARE YOU TO STOP ME

~Evric’s POV~

With that, I gathered my laptop and phone, turned, and walked upstairs, leaving him standing there in the middle of the empty living room, frozen in absolute disbelief.

I was settled at the desk in our bedroom, the laptop open, when the door flew inward, hitting the wall with a hollow thud. Zayn stepped inside, his face flushed and his movements sharp. I didn’t need to look up to feel the heat of his anger.

"Evric! What just happened downstairs, right now?" he demanded, his voice ringing with shock.

I kept my attention fixed on the screen.

"What part did you not understand so I could explain it to you?"

"Did you just stop me from going to work?"

I ignored him, tapping deliberately on the keyboard.

"Evric, did you just stop me from going to work and tell your workers to lock the door?" he repeated, his voice escalating.

Still, silence from me. I leaned into the cold calculation of the keyboard.

Then, he snapped. "EVRIC! It’s you I’m talking to!

"

I finally looked up. My face was a mask of cold control, a stark contrast to his rising rage. "Why are you raising your voice at me?" I said, standing slowly. "I just made it clear you should stop working. I’m not asking you to close the restaurant. I’m telling you to stop going there. Let your workers report to you while you stay home."

Zayn let out a short, incredulous laugh. "Evric, don’t make me lose my temper. Just let me go!"

I stood up finally, closing the distance between us until we were barely an arm’s length apart. My voice dropped, becoming a challenge. "And if I don’t?" I looked him straight in the face, eyes hard. "What will you do? Tell me."

Zayn glared back, fire in his eyes. "You dare not stop me from any of those options you mentioned! I met my friends before you, and you can’t stop me from going to work!"

"I have already stopped you," I stated, my tone final. "That’s final."

"Because you are who?!" he shouted, throwing his hands up.

"Because I’m your boyfriend!"

He chuckled bitterly. "I will go downstairs, open that door, and leave!"

I took a step forward, towering over him. "You dare not step outside of this room."

He turned his full fury on me. "WHO ARE YOU?!"

"Because I take the lead in this relationship," I declared, my voice ringing with absolute, ruthless finality. "It’s final. You are going nowhere."

Zayn stared at me, his chest heaving, his shock now fully replaced by pure, furious defiance.

"You think you can control me, Evric?" he asked, voice trembling with anger. "You think just because you have money, you own me?"

I exhaled slowly, my tone dangerously calm. "That’s not what I said."

"It’s exactly what you’re saying!" he shouted, taking a step closer. "You want me to stop working, stop seeing my friends, what’s next? You’ll tell me when to breathe?"

"Don’t twist my words," I snapped, my patience slipping. "I’m trying to protect you. You don’t even see how much trouble circles around us. You think this is about control? It’s about keeping you and our relationship safe."

Zayn let out a short, sharp laugh, full of disbelief. "Safe? You’re not protecting me, Evric—you’re caging me!"

His words hit harder than I expected. I took a slow breath and replied, quieter this time, but with the same steel beneath it. "If you call this a cage, then maybe that’s what love feels like."

Zayn’s eyes glistened, not with tears, but with fury and hurt. "Love isn’t control," he said, voice breaking slightly. "And if it is, then I don’t want that kind of love."

He turned toward the door again, defiance in every movement.

"Zayn," I said, my voice low, warning.

He stopped, his hand already on the knob. "What?" he spat.

"If you walk out that door," I said, every word steady and cold, "don’t come back tonight."

He made a move to open the door, but I delivered my final threat. "Go! Then I will call both of our parents and tell them you have chosen not to listen to me! I’ll tell Father you had a woman in your house!" I shouted, the volume echoing my desperation. "And I’ll tell everyone you said that because I’m younger than you, you won’t listen to me, and that you choose her over me!"

Zayn scoffed, his fury momentarily sidelined by incredulity. "You wouldn’t do that. That’s childish!"

"Yes, I will!" I yelled, stepping closer. "If that will stop you, I will do it!"

Zayn’s shoulders slumped. He let go of the door and rushed back to me, shoving my chest with his fingers. "You are a bad boyfriend! I hate you!"

I smiled, completely disarmed by the raw, wounded sound of his voice. It was pure, powerless child talk. "I know you hate me, but stay home, baby."

Zayn’s defiance crumbled slightly. "I don’t want to. I need to go out!" he insisted.

I gently cupped his face. He was still angry and wouldn’t look up, but I persisted. "Are you going out for something important?" I asked softly.

He nodded once, sharply. He unlocked his phone and pushed the screen toward me, showing a contact and a note about a meeting concerning the new menu he was planning to launch at his restaurant in a few days.

My eyes narrowed. "You made this big new plan for your restaurant, and you didn’t tell me? I only heard about it when you were telling your friends the last time." I tipped his chin up. "Am I not your man?"

"You are," he mumbled.

"Or do you want to find another man?"

He pounded my chest roughly. "Stop!" He shook his head. "No."

"No? But you just said you hate me."

He looked at me, his mouth set in a stubborn line, but he said nothing.

I leaned in, my voice coaxing. "Tell me you love me, and I will make calls and get everything ready without you stressing yourself."

He scoffed, rolling his eyes dramatically. "I love you."

"Louder," I demanded, teasing him back into submission. "I can’t hear you."

He finally cracked a smile, the anger melting away into reluctant affection. "I love you, Evric!"

I rewarded him immediately, pulling him in for a deep, satisfying kiss. "I love you more, Zayn."

Then, he softened completely. "I’m sorry for not telling you about—"

I cut him off, reaching for the buttons of his shirt. "Stop talking. Show me how sorry you are with the way you will respond to my cock."

"Babe," he whispered, a question in his tone.

"Yes, Zayn," I answered, my voice husky. "Fuck me."