The guard’s eyes flick over my shoulder and flare with respect. With a clipped nod, he steps back into the shadows.
I whirl around, shocked to see it’s Zain who saved me from embarrassment. He’s dressed in a sharp all-black suit with his hair slicked back, looking like a man in charge. “Mr. Ahuja.”
“Call me Zain.” He comes forward and waves a hand toward the entrance. “Shall we?”
I’m wary of his intentions, but I step past him anyway. Like a true gentleman—though I can sense he’s far from one—he holds the door open for me as I cross the threshold.
Instantly, the energy tonight feels different than last night.
Darker and more voracious.
“You weren’t kidding,” comments Zain, walking beside me.
“Pardon?”
“About not letting Kian hide.” Arching one arrogant brow, he questions, “You’re here for him again, aren’t you?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you think stalking him is the best idea to get the interview?”
My eyes widen that he knows about it.
Cutting in front of me before we can enter the social room, he regards me shrewdly. “At first, I thought you were here to reconcile your fiancé with his older brother. I would’ve preferred that to be the reason.”
I swallow the nervous ball in my throat, and ask, “Why?”
“I don’t like reporters of any kind meddling in my life, especially showing up at my place of business uninvited.”
Ahh! I knew there was a catch.
He saved me back there to warn me to stay away.
“Then why did you let me in then?” I’m so sick of these men giving me false hope and then cruelly ending it. They are the ones playing mind games.
A small smirk graces his mouth. “Let’s say I’m intrigued to see how it plays out.”
“Is he here tonight?”
“Maybe.” He hums. “Maybe not.”
“Well, are you going to stop me from finding out like last night?”
Searching my face for something, he utters, “Do you really want to win this cat-and-mouse game? Because you’re going about it all wrong.”
The last part is said as a taunt. “Care to enlighten me how?”
“Make him chase you rather than the other way around.”
His advice strikes a chord in me. Bianca said something similar too. I’ve been following him around like a puppy for the last month and he’s kicking me to the curb at every turn.
Chasing after little scraps of him is all I’ve ever known for the past three years.
Perhaps it’s time to change strategies.
“I can hear the cogs turning,” drawls Zain, smoothing a hand down his abs. “If you play your cards right tonight, you may just come out on top.”
“Are you going to warn him I’m here?”