CHAPTER 36: CHAPTER 36: MY EX STILL KNOWS MY BODY

When I saw the photo, my eyes blinked wide open in disbelief. I wouldn’t lie; it shifted something inside me. That kind of bold, reckless energy... Nicki had always been wild and dirty in a way that stirred things I rarely admitted out loud.

Zayn wasn’t like that. Not that wild. Not that crazy. Nicki and I had crossed so many lines, tried things I wouldn’t even dare speak of, but those memories, no matter how intense, no longer defined me.

Because at that moment, I realized something.

I love Zayn. He’s trying, he might not bring chaos, but he brings calm. He may not know the thrill of dangerous nights, but he gives me peace, and I crave that more than I crave anything Nicki ever gave me.

Another photo came in.

My breath hitched. I almost slipped, almost let the past drag me under. My fingers twitched with the memory of touches long gone. But I didn’t give in.

Instead, I switched off my phone.

I turned to the pillow Zayn always used when he stayed over, pulled it close, and curled into the space he usually filled. I closed my eyes, pretending it was him beside me, his quiet warmth, his steady breath.

Then sleep claimed me like that. Wrapped in something real.

In the morning, it was Nuala who woke me up. She knocked on my door, her voice urgent as she called out, "Dad’s been trying to reach you. He said your number isn’t going through."

Still half-asleep, I blinked at my phone screen as I answered the call. Rogan’s voice came through, calm but firm.

"Come home this weekend. There’s something important I need to discuss with you."

I hesitated for a second, staring at the phone as if it could explain what this was about.

"Okay," I replied quietly.

Lately, things between Rogan and me, my father, have been unusually peaceful. I’ve done my best not to cross any lines. I listen more, speak less, and try not to question his decisions. Maybe that’s why I didn’t want to tell him what I heard from Nicki.

It’s not about protecting Nicki, it’s about protecting Zayn. I’m afraid that if I say anything, Rogan might start digging, and I can’t let that happen. I’d rather stay silent than risk exposing something I’ve worked so hard to keep buried.

I turned on my phone, only to be greeted by a flood of photos... Nicki’s photos.

They weren’t innocent. Most of them were suggestive, some outright explicit. I shut the screen quickly, my heart skipping, aware that Nuala was still in my room. She didn’t seem to notice anything, thankfully. After a few more minutes of idle chatting, she stood and stretched.

"I have something to attend to," she said casually, brushing down her dress before walking out.

The moment the door closed behind her, I reached for my phone again and opened the last message Nicki had sent.

I’m not giving up on you. I’m back, for real this time. I’ll do whatever it takes to prove my love and have you in my life again.

I stared at the words for a long time, expressionless.

No warmth.

No butterflies.

Just...nothing.

I dropped the phone on the bed and reached for it again, not for him, but for Zayn.

I sent a simple:

"Good morning, Zayn."

Hoping to get a reply, even if just a quick one.

When I finally stepped out of my room, Mr. Karl was already downstairs, waiting. The moment he saw me, he adjusted his tie and said, "Good morning. Boss."

"Good morning," I replied.

He gave a short nod before continuing. "One of our properties has just been purchased. The buyer is coming into the office later today to collect the documents."

"Alright," I nodded, brushing my fingers through my hair, still half-distracted. "I’ll be ready."

I checked my phone again. Still no reply from Zayn. I waited a few more minutes, then gave in and called. It rang and rang, but he didn’t pick up.

I tried to reassure myself. He’s probably just busy.

Determined not to dwell, I shifted my focus to work. I booted up my laptop, went over the morning briefs, and reviewed the schedule for the day. Chrisly had already left for the office, and just as I was getting into the flow, Nuala came down the stairs, dressed smartly.

"Going out?" I asked, half-curious, half-distracted.

"Yeah," she said, picking up her purse. "Meeting an old friend."

"Which friend?"

She paused briefly. "Just someone I used to know."

She offered a quick smile before heading out the door, leaving a quiet air of mystery behind her.

I wrapped up everything for the day, but still... no reply from Zayn. It’s already night, an entire day has passed without a single message from him. That’s not like him at all.

I sat alone in my office, just trying to relax. The building was quiet now; all my staff had already gone home. Only Mr. Karl and James remained, helping me finish up a few things in the center’s private office.

Then I heard the door open.

At first, I assumed it was James, he should’ve finished the task I assigned him by now. But when I turned around... I froze.

It wasn’t James.

It was Nicki.

He stood at the door, his expression unreadable. Dressed in all black, he looked effortlessly sharp, his presence as commanding as ever.

"Nicki?" I blinked. "What are you doing here?"

He stepped inside without answering immediately, then closed the door behind him gently.

"I figured I might still find you here," he said, his voice low and calm.

I didn’t say much when he entered. The moment I saw Nicki step into the office, something inside me stiffened. The space felt suddenly too small, the air too thick.

"Let’s talk outside," I said, my voice low, steady. I already knew this office, it looked more like a private suite than a professional space. And with Nicki, that was dangerous.

He didn’t move. Instead, he cocked his head slightly, his brows lifting with faint amusement. "Why outside?" he asked. "What happened here?"

"Please," I said again, firmer this time. "Let’s just talk outside."

Without waiting for his reply, I turned and headed toward the door. I needed distance.

But I didn’t even make it halfway.

In one swift motion, he stepped forward, closing the space between us. And then, I felt it.

He didn’t reach for my hand. Not my arm. Not even my shoulder.

His hands went straight to my waist, gripped my cock firm, grounding, bold, and lower still. My breath caught in my throat.

Nicki was one of the few who knew exactly where to touch, what to trigger. My body betrayed me before my mind had the chance to protest.

My pulse quickened.

"Nicki," I whispered, trying to steady my voice, but it came out too soft, too breathless.

He leaned in, close enough for me to feel the heat of his breath against my neck. "Why are you running from me?" he murmured. "You sure you want to go outside?" he whispered.

Then his...