Page 15 of Pack to the Wall

"It's all Zev," Olivia corrected her. "You should really be thanking him."

Chrissy bit her lip, realizing she hadn't properly thanked her host. "I've barely seen him since I arrived. Just glimpses from across the resort."

"He's probably giving you space to decompress." Olivia's eyes lit up with an idea. "You should dine with him tonight. Thank him in person."

The thought of a private dinner with Zev sent Chrissy's pulse racing. She remembered the electricity that had sparked between them when their hands brushed—the way his jaw had tightened as if fighting some powerful instinct.

"Maybe I should," Chrissy agreed, surprised by how much she wanted to see him again. To understand the intensity she'd glimpsed beneath his controlled exterior.

"Perfect!" Olivia beamed. "I'll let him know. Eight o'clock at the Cliff House?"

Chrissy nodded, suddenly nervous and excited all at once. A dinner with the most magnetic man she'd ever met, on a cliff overlooking the Caribbean.

As the warm water sluiced away the last traces of clay from her skin, Chrissy leaned her forehead against the cool tile of the shower stall. The tension in her shoulders had melted away during the spa treatments, replaced by a strange flutter of anticipation in her stomach. She'd agreed to have dinner with Zev tonight. Alone.

"You doing okay in there?" Olivia called from the adjacent shower.

"Just enjoying having shower time without someone timing me with a stopwatch." Chrissy smiled to herself, remembering Leslie's shrill voice counting down the minutes before she was due on set.

But beneath her lighthearted response lay a deeper current of emotion. Zev had cleared an entire section of his resort just for her privacy. He'd made sure she had space to breathe and to decompress. The thought of seeing him tonight and properly thanking him sent a thrill racing through her veins.

Six hours later, Chrissy stood in her villa bedroom surrounded by clothing options spread across her king-sized bed. Nothing fancy like the couture gowns Leslie forced herinto for industry events—just simple, comfortable pieces that actually felt like her.

"Why am I overthinking this?" she muttered, holding an emerald green sundress against her body. "It's just dinner."

Yet it didn't feel like "just dinner." She'd performed for stadiums filled with screaming fans without her heart racing like this. She'd done live television interviews watched by millions without breaking a sweat.

But one pair of intense blue eyes made her insides twist with a mixture of nervousness and excitement she couldn't explain.

She slipped the emerald dress over her head, the soft fabric caressing her curves. The color made her green eyes pop and complemented her fair skin. She applied minimal makeup—just enough to enhance her natural features without the heavy stage makeup she'd grown accustomed to.

"This is ridiculous," she told her reflection as she ran her fingers through her loose waves. "I've dealt with pushy executives and handsy producers. Why does the thought of sitting across a table from Zev make my knees weak?"

Because he looks at you like you're the only person in the room, a small voice whispered in her mind. Because he gave you space when everyone else took and took and took.

A gentle knock at Chrissy's door startled her from her thoughts. Olivia stood outside, looking flawless in a flowing maxi dress, her smile knowing.

"You look gorgeous," she said, eyeing Chrissy's emerald sundress appreciatively. "Perfect for dinner at the Cliff House."

The path to the restaurant wound through flowering tropical gardens, their sweet scent hanging heavy in the evening air. With each step closer, Chrissy's heart beat a little faster.

Just because he's drop-dead gorgeous and seems super nice doesn't mean you should trust him completely, she reminded herself. After all, Marty had seemed charming at first too.

But something about Zev felt different. There was an intensity to him, yes, but also a warmth. A genuineness that Marty had never possessed.

The Cliff House emerged before them—an open-air structure perched dramatically on the edge of a cliff overlooking the Caribbean. Lanterns hung around the space, casting golden light across polished wooden floors. The sound of waves crashing against the rocks below provided a rhythmic backdrop.

And there he was.

Zev stood at a table near the terrace edge, his powerful frame outlined against the darkening sky. His black button-down shirt stretched across his broad shoulders, the top buttons undone to reveal a teasing glimpse of tanned skin. When he spotted her, his piercing blue eyes locked onto her green ones, and something primal and electric passed between them.

He straightened immediately, his posture shifting subtly—shoulders back and chin up, a stance that screamed authority and confidence. Yet as she drew closer, Chrissy noticed the slight fidget of his fingers against his leg and the barely perceptible bob of his Adam's apple as he swallowed.

Was the Alpha actually nervous?

"Good luck," Olivia whispered with a wink before disappearing back down the path.

Chrissy approached the table, hyperaware of how Zev's gaze traveled briefly down her body before returning respectfully to her face—appreciative but not leering.

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