Page 68 of Oliver
But all I could think about washeralone with Ryan.
And I had to choose: the brother I swore to protect, or the girl I once let down.
One of them would have to wait.
I flagged down a taxi, too drunk to drive, panic and protectiveness overriding every other priority.
The choice was easy.
I wasn’t about to let Ryan hurt Zahra.
Not again.
Not this time.
Not while I was breathing.
Twenty-One
ZHARA
I sippedmy club soda slowly, trying to look casual as I checked my phone for the fifth time in as many minutes. The bridal shower had run late, and by the time we'd finished the endless games and gift opening, most of the wedding party had dispersed.
Parisa had practically shoved me out the door.
"Go find your man," she'd teased. "I need my beauty sleep, and I cannot handle another night of listening to you two through the floor."
The memory made my cheeks burn. But Oliver still hadn’t responded to my texts.
When I got to our room, it was empty.
I didn’t know what I expected. Relief? Disappointment? Maybe I was just exhausted—too frayed at the edges to process emotions properly.
Either way, the thought of sitting alone with my thoughts was unbearable, so I headed downstairs, shooting Oliver another message to meet me at the hotel bar when he got back.
The bar's dim lighting cast long shadows across the polished wood, the soft jazz playing overhead mixing seamlessly with the hum of conversation. I chose a spot at the far end, where I could see everyone coming and going.
"Another club soda?" The bartender—a woman with a sleeve of colorful tattoos—raised an eyebrow at my nearly empty glass.
"Please." I forced a smile. "With lime this time?"
She nodded, turning to prepare the drink. She had a no-nonsense efficiency that made me instantly like her.
And then?—
"Well, well. If it isn't little Zahra Nazarian, all by her lonesome at the hotel bar."
My spine stiffened, my stomach plummeted. I didn’t turn, didn’t acknowledge him.
But Ryan didn’t need an invitation.
He slid onto the stool beside me like he’d been waiting for this exact moment, like he knew exactly how to slither in when my guard was down.
Too close. Always too close.
"I'm waiting for Oliver," I said coolly, still not looking at him.
"Are you sure about that?" Ryan’s voice was lower now, dropping into the tone I remembered too well, one designed to make me question myself before I’d managed to make my mind up. "Because I saw your boyfriend heading into O'Malley's about an hour ago. Looking pretty determined to tie one on."
