Chapter 32 Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Two
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Zeke
I giggled again. I was drunk. The vampire prince didn't know where I worked. I was just seeing things. Nessa began driving and I looked back at the place where I'd seen him. He was still standing there, looking at me till my heartbeat accelerated.
“Drive faster, I think I'm going mad.” I said to Nessa who had the everlasting frown that'd been on her face throughout the date. It was for the fear that she might break Qyle's head that I'd drank so much wine. I didn't want to be a witness to murder.
I looked through the rearview mirror. Zeke was no longer there.
I woke up the next morning with a terrible hangover. I felt like I was standing on the border between sanity, and insanity. My head pounded with the intensity of music speakers at a bar. Oh right. Memories of last night flooded my mind.
Barcon. Business dates. Got drunk.
I sat up on the bed with a wince when sunlight poured into the room, through the open window. I'd been too drunk to close it last night. The door opened at that moment, and Nessa walked in with a smile. She held a cup in hand which she offered me, as she sat on the edge of the bed.
“It'll help with your hangover.” She said,
I wasted no time in drinking it. The weird taste of whatever she'd given me, almost made me throw up. She was staring at me when I turned to her again.
“What?” I blurted.
She merely shook her head.
“Why aren't you preparing for work, yet?” I asked her, stifling a yawn.
“I'm working from home today. Besides, we have some decorations to do.” She winked.
“What decoration?” The question was out, before it struck me. I smacked my forehead. Of course, we had lots of decorations to do.
As a ritual, we redecorated our home once Thanksgiving drew near. It wasn't a time-consuming chore, but we always ended up arguing about the color to use, and where to place certain designs, so that it always used up a full day.
“Can't we do the redecoration tomorrow?” I asked with another yawn.
She made a face. “And end up postponing it, just like last year?” She asked.
I shrugged. “We still did it, didn't we?”
“Whatever.”
The question I'd been wanting to ask, popped into my mind. “Why did you guys choose Barcon for your date?” I asked, laying down on the bed again. The furious headache had lessened just a bit. She shrugged. “I chose it because I wanted Qyle to cancel the date. I ended up being the one to leave there, angry. I hate that man.”
With the intensity in her voice, I didn't doubt.
“I've heard of hate-love stories.” I grinned, and I ducked when she threw a pillow my way.
“Says the person who got herself a secret admirer at a bar. Me and Qyle would never be a thing in this life.” She made a weird face.
“A secret admirer?” I switched to a more comfortable position.
“Yeah. He was hot, damn. A pity you were drinking your life away.” She shook her head.
I sat up again, as a thought occurred to me. “What was he like?” I asked with a curt tone.
Obviously taken aback by my sudden interest, she described him as she could remember.
My jaw unhinged, as blood roared to my ears. No way.
There was no way Zeke had visited my workplace last night. I remembered the person I saw while in the car.
“I'm so fucked.” I managed to say.
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Zeke
Steam rolled off my body as I stepped out of the bathroom. The doorbell rang out at that moment and I groaned. There was only one person who knew my current address, and who'd call on me at this time of the night. My window was open, close to the patio's door. I donned on a robe, my steps unhurried as I moved towards the door.
“Don't you have a home?” I grunted, as Qyle pushed past me into the room.
“Do you need a reminder as to whose house this is?” He drawled, pulling off his suit, and throwing it over the couch. I closed the door without a response, and came over to join him. He crossed his legs, and pulled out his phone. He dialed a number, and listened to the person from the other end.
“Keep on monitoring. Hmm.” He hung up.
“What's that?” I asked, snapping my fingers absentmindedly.
“Nothing important.'' He shifted on his seat, and that made my brow arch. Qyle never got uneasy for just 'nothing unimportant.'
"I want the penthouse.” I relaxed on my sofa.
“It's taken,” he shrugged.
I whirled my head towards him. “Didn't you say it was vacant?”
On returning to Weasels weeks ago, my father had ordered me to apologize to Master Ragnarok and the entire guests. Or leave Weasels for good.
I could still picture the scene in my mind. Alex and his mother both had sly looks on their faces, when I stepped into the throne room.
Master Ragnarok, my father, and a red eyed Darcel were present too.
“Apologize, Ezekiel. We are willing to overlook what happened.” King Elliott had said.
My refusal had angered my father more than the first time I snuck out of Weasels. He'd rammed his staff on the throne's armrest, and repeated his words.
I hadn't budged.
I'd left. I'd rented an apartment in one of Qyle's buildings, and though I'd asked for the penthouse, he declined.
“I'll pay double for it.” I offered calmly.
My friend didn't budge. “Flaunting your wealth, aren't you? Be careful, a month from now, you may no longer be a vampire royalty.” He grinned, and the thought of it made my chest constrict.
I ran my hand through my hair. My greatest fear was slowly coming to pass. I'd messed things up. Because of someone who didn't love me back.
‘But you hurt her.’ An inner voice argued.
No, I didn't. I'd done it to protect her.
“Love is a very useless emotion.” His sneer cut into my thought, shifting my line of focus.
“I'm not in love.” I argued.
“No, you're not. And that's why you left your wedding, disregarded the Circle, damned all consequences, just to go and save a random woman.” He got up and sauntered into the kitchen, which adjourned the door that led to the bedroom.
“She's not a random woman.” I hissed.