WebNovels

Chapter 17 - Unexpected

Tracy POV

"Your apartment???" I repeated, blinking at him like he'd just told me we were going to Mars.

Zane's lips twitched, not quite a smile but something close. "Yes, my apartment. Or did you think I was going to let you limp back to whatever corner you were hiding in?"

I narrowed my eyes. "I wasn't hiding."

His gaze flicked to my ankle, then back to my face. "Right. And I suppose this"—he gestured to my bandaged leg—"is just your way of sightseeing?"

I huffed, crossing my arms, but I didn't get another word in before he leaned down, hooked an arm under my knees and another behind my back, and lifted me off the sofa like I weighed nothing.

"Zane! Put me down!"

"No." He said it so simply, like my protests were background noise. "We're leaving."

Before I could fight back, we were outside in the rain again. He shielded me with his coat as we reached the sleek black car waiting at the curb — one I hadn't noticed earlier. The moment we were inside, the driver — a tall, silent man in a black suit — pulled away without a word.

The ride was quiet. Zane's arm rested along the back of the seat, close enough that I could feel his heat, but he didn't touch me. Outside, the streets of Chicago blurred past in streaks of neon and silver rain. I kept glancing at him, but his eyes stayed forward, his profile hard and unreadable.

I told myself I should be planning how to slip away. Instead, I was wondering what his home looked like.

When the car finally slowed, I forgot how to breathe.

It wasn't a home. It was a statement.

A towering glass-and-steel building loomed before us, its top disappearing into the low clouds. Armed men in dark suits stood at the entrance, their expressions flat and watchful. The massive gates opened without a sound, and we drove into an underground garage lined with expensive cars that looked like they belonged in a showroom.

"Where… exactly are we?" I asked.

"My apartment," he said again, voice smooth, like he hadn't just brought me to something that looked more like a luxury fortress than a home.

He didn't wait for me to move when we parked — he came around, opened my door, and lifted me out again. I wanted to be annoyed. My pulse had other ideas.

Inside, the elevator doors slid open to reveal a space so vast it could have been a floor of its own.

The first thing I noticed was the view — floor-to-ceiling glass walls revealing the city skyline glittering in the rain. The second was the opulence: marble floors so polished I could see our reflections, a black grand piano in one corner, and a chandelier that cascaded gold and crystal like frozen lightning.

"This is…" I couldn't finish the sentence.

He set me down gently on a deep leather sofa that probably cost more than my entire college tuition. "Home," he said simply.

I turned in my seat, taking in shelves lined with rare-looking books, art pieces I didn't recognize, and objects that looked like they'd been collected from all over the world. Nothing here felt bought. Everything felt… claimed.

"Why bring me here, Zane?"

He walked toward a bar in the corner, pouring himself a drink. "Because right now, you're safer with me than anywhere else."

I crossed my arms. "I told you, I don't need—"

"Trace." He said my name like it was a warning, low and rough. "You wouldn't have made it through the night without me."

My stomach tightened. I hated that part of me believed him.

He came back toward me, setting his drink aside and kneeling in front of me. His hands were warm as they brushed against my ankle, undoing the bandage to check the swelling.

"You're reckless," he murmured.

"And you're—" I stopped because he looked up at me then, and his eyes… God, they weren't just looking. They were stripping away every excuse I had left.

I swallowed. "Infuriating."

His mouth curved slightly, like he liked the word.

We stayed like that, the air between us growing heavier, his hands lingering just a second too long on my leg. My pulse was doing wild, ridiculous things.

He leaned in just a fraction, his gaze flicking to my lips. My breath caught.

Then his phone rang.

He shut his eyes for a beat, exhaling slowly before pulling it from his pocket. "Talk," he said into the receiver.

I couldn't hear the voice on the other end, but I saw the way his jaw tightened. "I'll deal with it," he said before ending the call.

When he looked at me again, the softness was gone.

"Stay here," he said.

"What's going on?"

"Lock the door behind me, Trace."

I opened my mouth, but he was already walking toward the elevator, coat in hand. The doors closed, leaving me alone in the vast, silent apartment with the rain beating against the glass.

I stared after him, wondering if I'd just been left in a palace… or a cage.

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