40.

“Some stories take time to tell,” I said with a smirk, getting up from the couch.

“Where are you going?” Xander asked, trailing behind me like a curious puppy as I headed toward the kitchen.

“To make myself a sandwich,” I replied, brushing past him with a playful grin.

“Oh, make me one too,” he said, hopping onto a stool by the counter and watching me with an expectant expression.

I raised an eyebrow at him as I grabbed the bread and started pulling out ingredients. “You have two hands. Make your own.”

He groaned dramatically. “But yours always taste better! Come on, Zeph.”

“Not a chance,” I said, laughing as I started assembling my sandwich.

Xander stood, leaning against the counter as he watched me work. “You’re really going to deny your best friend a sandwich? After all I’ve done for you?”

I rolled my eyes, turning away from him as I reached for the knife to cut the sandwich in half. “You haven’t done anything for me lately, Xander. You’ll survive.”

Before I could react, Xander stepped closer and wrapped his arms around me from behind, his chin brushing against my shoulder. “If you won’t give it to me, I’ll just take it,” he said, his tone playful but laced with mischief.

“Xander!” I yelped, trying to twist out of his grip as he grabbed the sandwich from the counter. “Let go!”

He laughed, holding the sandwich out of my reach as I turned to face him. His closeness was almost suffocating, the warmth of his body pressing against mine as I tried to snatch it back.

At that exact moment, the sound of footsteps made us both freeze.

“What is going on here?”

Ace’s deep, commanding voice cut through the air like a blade, and I turned my head to see him standing in the doorway, his piercing gaze locked on us.

Xander, still holding the sandwich, grinned nervously. “She made me a sandwich,” he said, his voice unusually high-pitched.

I opened my mouth to protest, but the look on Ace’s face made the words die in my throat. His intense, blue eyes flicked from Xander to me, and the weight of his stare made my skin prickle.

“Xander,” Ace said, his voice cold and calm, though his jaw tightened. “Leave.”

Xander hesitated, his grin faltering. “But I haven’t even eaten—”

“Now.”

The single word was laced with authority, and Xander huffed out a breath before stepping away from me. “Fine, fine,” he muttered, taking a bite of the sandwich as he walked toward the door. “But I’m taking this with me.”

Ace’s glare followed him until he disappeared around the corner. Then, the room fell into an unbearable silence.

I turned back to the counter, pretending to busy myself with the leftover ingredients, but I could feel Ace’s eyes boring into me.

“Zephyr,” he said, his voice softer now but still carrying an edge.

I swallowed hard and turned to face him, my heart pounding. “Yes?”

He took a step closer, closing the distance between us. “What was that?”

“What was what?” I asked, trying to sound casual, though my voice betrayed me.

Ace’s gaze dropped to my lips for the briefest moment before returning to my eyes. “You and Xander,” he said, his tone laced with something I couldn’t quite place—jealousy, maybe?

“Nothing,” I said quickly, shaking my head. “He was just being Xander.”

Ace’s lips pressed into a thin line as he studied me, his expression unreadable. Then, without warning, he reached out and brushed a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering against my skin.

“You shouldn’t let him touch you like that,” he said, his voice low and intimate, sending a shiver down my spine.

I blinked, caught off guard by his words and the intensity of his gaze. “He’s just a friend,” I managed to say, though my voice wavered.

Ace stepped even closer, his presence overwhelming. “Friends don’t hold you like that,” he said, his tone darker now.

I opened my mouth to respond, but the words wouldn’t come. The tension between us was thick, almost suffocating, and I could feel my pulse racing as his eyes searched mine.

Ace’s fingers lingered near my face for a heartbeat longer, his touch sending shivers down my spine. But just as quickly as he had reached out, he snapped his hand back, his jaw tightening as his expression hardened.

His blue eyes darkened, and his voice turned sharp, slicing through the thick tension between us. “You’re just a slave here,” he said, his tone cold and cutting. “So start behaving like one.”

The words hit me like a slap, and I flinched, the sting of his dismissal making my chest tighten. “A slave?” I repeated, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes,” he said harshly, taking a step back as if trying to regain control of himself. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, and his gaze pierced through me. “You’re here to work, not to fool around with Xander or anyone else. Do I make myself clear?”

I bit down on the inside of my cheek, willing myself not to show how much his words hurt. “Crystal clear,” I said, my voice laced with defiance despite the ache building in my chest.

Ace’s lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment, I thought he might say something else. But instead, he turned abruptly and strode toward the door, his shoulders tense and his movements stiff.

“You don’t own me,” I muttered under my breath, unable to stop the words from slipping out.

He froze mid-step, his back to me. Slowly, he turned his head, his sharp eyes locking onto mine like a predator sizing up its prey.

“What did you just say?”

I lifted my chin, forcing myself to meet his gaze even though my knees felt weak. “You don’t own me,” I repeated, louder this time.

The corner of his mouth twitched, but it wasn’t a smile—it was something darker, more dangerous. He stalked back toward me, his presence filling the room like a storm cloud.

Leaning in close, he lowered his voice to a deadly whisper. “In this house, everything and everyone answers to me. Do you understand that, Zephyr?”

I swallowed hard, my breath hitching as his proximity sent my heart racing. “I’m not a thing,” I said, my voice shaking but firm. “And I’m not a slave. You can’t treat me like this.”

Ace’s jaw clenched, and for a moment, I saw something flicker in his eyes—regret, guilt, or maybe frustration. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by his usual icy exterior.

“Then prove you’re more than that,” he said finally, his voice cold but quieter now. “Stop acting like a distraction.”

He straightened, his towering figure still casting a shadow over me. Without another word, he turned and walked out, leaving me alone in the kitchen with a whirlwind of emotions swirling inside me.

As the sound of his footsteps faded, I slumped against the counter, my hands trembling. Ace had always been unpredictable, but this… this was something else entirely. The tension between us had always been there, simmering beneath the surface. But now, it felt like it was ready to boil over—and I wasn’t sure I could handle it.