Sadie
The weeks that followed were a surreal dream. I was living my normal life, going to classes and my internship, but I was acutely aware of a new presence that followed me. It wasn't the phantom shadow of Zane I had come to accept; this was something clumsy, and entirely unsettling. It was the same beat-up, brown sedan that seemed to be parked on my street no matter when I came home. It was the same man I saw walking his dog three times in one day, his gaze lingering a little too long on my apartment window. The man was unassuming, with a receding hairline and a nervous twitch, and every time I saw him, my heart would pound a frantic rhythm against my ribs. My sense of security was shattered. I was being watched, and this person wasn't a godlike protector; they were a complete stranger.
My paranoia was so real I could taste it, a bitter acid at the back of my throat. I knew I couldn't run, not without making myself more vulnerable. My only relief was the lingering scent of Zane's musky cologne on the clothes I had worn the night he had showed me his world. That scent was a strange comfort, a reminder of the one person who could protect me from the shadows, the one person I knew would always watch over me, even if it was in a terrifying, possessive way.
One particularly unsettling evening, after I had been walking home with a creeping sense of being watched, I made a decision. I wouldn't call him, I would go to him. I hailed a cab to the Gonzalez Industries building, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs. It was late, but the building was still alive with light. The cab pulled up, and I paid the driver, walking through the revolving doors and into the lobby.
The same security guard was there. He recognised me. He started to say something, a polite question, but I cut him off, my voice raw with desperation.
"I need to see him," I said. "Now."
He hesitated, his gaze fixed on my frantic expression. "Miss Robertson, Mr. Gonzalez is in a meeting. He can't be disturbed."
Just as he said the words, a door on the far side of the lobby opened. It was a conference room, and inside, a dozen men in suits were seated around a long table. They all looked up as I spoke, their expressions a mix of curiosity and annoyance. And then, I saw him. Zane was at the head of the table, his face a mask of cold, hard indifference. His eyes, however, were locked on mine.
"Zane," I said, my voice breaking.
The entire room went silent. The men in suits stared at me, then at Zane. He didn't move. He didn't even blink. He just stared at me with those cold, obsidian eyes. He stood up, his long, lean body an intimidating presence.
"Gentlemen, the meeting is adjourned," he said, his voice a low, commanding rumble.
The men at the table stared at him in disbelief. I watched, my heart pounding, as they all stood, gathering their notes and whispering among themselves. They were all older, more powerful men, and yet they all bowed to his will.
Zane walked out of the conference room, his eyes never leaving mine. He stopped in front of me, his body a solid wall, blocking out the stares of the men who were filing out of the room. He reached out, his hand cupping my chin, and my head tilted back. I felt a shiver of pure, unadulterated pleasure.
"Princess," he said, his voice a low, dangerous whisper. "I told you, you're mine. And I will protect you from the shadows, even if I'm the one casting them." He smiled, a dark, predatory smile. "What seems to be the problem?"