Crawl back

Crawl back
ZAYN

I checked my watch. The meeting would probably be concluded by now and just like before, my father won't really have anything to prove I don't got to work on the company I have literally helped during the last few years.

I turned to face Rome, who had eyes that seemed like they could cut right through me. I smiled back at him. He is most likely considering the fact that I showed up and gave Callie a lot of gifts.

Well, I simply enjoy being unpredictable. I didn't even hesitate when I receive the call during the Meeting.

Callie was too innocent, too precious to him. That kind of love made people reckless.

And that kind of love was easy to manipulate.

“I’d stay longer,” I said, voice softer now, more measured. “But I’ve got other fires to tend.”

Instead of answering, Rome simply shifted as if he was undecided about whether to kill me or punch me. His eyes were filled with worry, pride, and resentment once more. and something softer he didn’t want me to see.

I gave a small smile and waited for the moment to pass.

“Don’t forget dinner tonight,” I added, casually brushing a lint speck off my jacket. “Your family. Mine. All smiles around the table. Should be enlightening.”

Even though his face hardly changed, I could sense the change in him. That gathering mattered more than he wanted to admit.

I took a step back, turned slightly toward the elevators, then paused.

My eyes locked with his once more, silent, focused, and reserved for us.

With a low voice, I said, "I mean it, Rome. Be ready.”

He opened his mouth, but what came out wasn’t what I expected.

“Be careful.”

His delivery had an unvarnished quality. Like he couldn’t help himself. Like maybe, in spite of it all, he still gave a damn.

In two steps, I pushed the distance between us closer.

Then, without warning, I leaned in and kissed him.

Just an intentional, smoldering kiss. It was a kiss that left an impression, not one that was intended to be returned.

Rome jumped back instantly, his eyes wide. “Are you insane?” he hissed. “She’s right inside… what if Callie saw?”

I smiled lazily, licking the ghost of him off my lips.

"She didn't," I remarked. “You did.”

He looked like he wanted to shove me but I was already turning, walking away like nothing had happened.

I didn’t look back.

Rome Calloway would spend the next few hours trying to erase that kiss from his mind.

And fail.

By the time he sat at that dinner table tonight, surrounded by my family and his, he’d still taste me on his lips.

Game on.

I left the hospital and made my way back to work, knowing fully well my father would still be fuming with rage. I had walked out of a meeting that was carefully engineered to disgrace me, something no one had dared before.

I kept considering going lenient on him, for Grandfather’s sake. But the truth was, my father was hellbent on getting rid of me. I wasn’t his rebellious son anymore, I was a threat.

The kind of threat that smiles while bleeding out the old foundation beneath your feet.

After the breakup with Rome, I returned to the Sanchez family. Not in tears or with regrets. I walked back in like I owned the place and in a few months, I did.

I turned their name from a pity whisper back into a threat, cleaned up the brand, smiled for the cameras. And became the charming, magnetic figure the press couldn't stop talking about.

Grandfather adored it. Adored me.

He even said it out loud once… said he was considering me for the chairmanship. Chairman of the Sanchez Group. The position that had belonged to my father for decades, until now.

That’s when things started to change. My father stopped pretending. My mother stopped pretending. Their dislike wasn’t a secret anymore.

But I didn’t care. Their disdain was fuel. Having grown up in their icy shadows, I knew how to light the darkness on fire.

The only one who could still crawl beneath my skin was Rome.

That damn infuriating, unshakable man.

I let out a deep breath as I turned into the underground lot. The echo of the engine felt louder than usual, my pulse humming behind my ribs as I ran a hand through my hair.

The elevator doors opened directly into the executive floor of Sanchez Tower.

I expected silence, the hum of people feigning productivity around me, the smell of stale espresso, and the whispers of boardroom gossip when I stepped outside.

What I walked into was noise.

Loud, unapologetic, and furious.

“Get me Zayn Sanchez right now! I don’t give a damn who he’s in a meeting with!”

It was Cassiel.

Rome’s brother. Striding across my lobby like he owned it, his voice ricocheting off glass. Two security officers were already trying to calm him down, but the man was a storm wrapped in a suit too expensive for his temper.

I waited for a moment to pass, allowing the others to flinch as I moved steadily and slowly.

“I’m here,” I said flatly.

I noticed the fleeting flicker in Cassiel's eyes as he turned.

“Perfect,” he spat. “Maybe now you’ll tell your staff to stop blocking me like I’m some outsider.”

I raised a brow. “You’re not some outsider, Cassiel. You’re Rome Calloway’s brother. That makes you very much an insider, one who should know better than to yell in the lobby of a company he doesn’t own.”

Cassiel strutted in like he had something to offer.

“I was hoping we could talk,” he said, voice too friendly, like we were old friends catching up, not two men with absolutely nothing in common.

I gave him a long look. “You sure barging into someone’s office is how you want to start a conversation?”

He chuckled awkwardly. “Didn’t want to go through all the scheduling and secretaries and... you know how it is. Figured it’d be better if I just showed up.”

Bold or stupid.

I waved to my assistant. “Clear Conference Room B.”

She nodded, already halfway down the hall.

I turned back to Cassiel. “Since you’re here, let’s get this over with. Try not to waste my time.”

He trailed after me like a kid desperate to be chosen for a team he didn’t belong on. Once inside the room, he sat before I did, like he owned a seat at the table.

“So,” he began, with that fake ease people wear when they’re terrified of silence, “I’ve always thought you and I should talk. You’re clearly someone who gets things done. I respect that.”

I didn’t answer. Just leaned back in my chair, watching him.

He swallowed. “Anyway, I’ve got a few projects brewing. Startups. Some cross-media, some development. Nothing too crazy, but with the right push...”

He trailed off, hoping I’d jump in. I didn’t.

He cleared his throat and kept going. “You’ve got the capital, obviously. And I’ve got connections, ideas. I think we could do something big. Make a statement.”

“Is this a pitch,” I asked finally, “or are you just bored?”

He blinked. “It’s... well, I thought maybe since we’re family now, you’d be open to working together. Rome always said you were intense, but I didn’t realize you were this—”

He caught himself, too late.

I tilted my head. “Finish that sentence.”

Cassiel backpedaled. “No, no… I didn’t mean anything bad. Just... Rome’s not exactly cut out for this kind of world, you know? The suits, the pressure, the expectations. He’s got heart, sure, but he’s not really Sanchez material. He was better off in the nonprofit space.”

I paused and stood slowly.

“But more than that,” Cassiel said, leaning forward like he was about to drop some deep truth, “I think you deserve better.”

My brow twitched. “Better than what?”

He smirked, that cocky little grin. “Better than Rome, obviously. You? Sanchez heir, sitting on a fortune. And him? He ran away at nineteen, didn’t he? Left home to serve old men who bought his loyalty with shoes and wine.”

I didn’t say a word. Let the silence hang, daring him to keep going.

Cassiel did. “I know guys like him. They hide behind sad stories. But what it really is? Prostitution. Plain and simple. Wrapped up in vulnerability to make it seem less ugly.”

Heat rolled through me like a tide.

“He’s not one of us, Zayn. Doesn’t deserve you. And now he tries to slip into this world like he belongs? As if a pretty face and a sob story can erase what he really is?”

I moved from where i was standing without warning.

Cassiel blinked, caught off guard. “Hey, I’m just being honest. Someone needs to say it.”

I circled the table. He froze until I was right in front of him. Then he shifted, too late.

“You think your suits and fancy words put you above this?” I said, my voice low.

He laughed nervously. “Zayn, calm—”

My fist connected, very cleanly and quickly. Just under the jaw.

He staggered, crashing into the side table as the glass shattered.

Cassiel groaned, clutching his mouth while blood trickled out of his mouth.

"I forewarned you," I stated steadily. “You come here. Sit at my table. Trash my husband’s name. And you think you walk away clean?”

He whimpered but I didn’t care.

Straightening my cuff, I said, “Crawl back to whatever hole you crawled from, Cassiel. And if you ever speak his name again—I’ll destroy you.”