Chapter 10 Five Minutes of Peace

Chapter 10 Five Minutes of Peace
I couldn’t tell what woke me first, the soft drizzle tapping the window or my stomach whining like a baby demanding attention. Either way, the spot beside me was empty. The sheets were still warm, so Zade hadn’t been gone long.
I let out a quiet sigh, forcing myself to sit up even though every cell in my body wanted to stay wrapped in denial and cotton.
But hunger was king. And I was its loyal servant.
I slipped out of bed and grabbed Zade’s sweater from the end of the mattress. It was officially mine now. Smelled better than any detergent on the planet. Addictive in the worst way.
I headed for the door but paused to peek into Zoey’s room.
Lord, that child.
One leg dangled off the mattress. Her blanket had transformed into a rug. And her pony plush was trapped under her butt. Her face, though? So peaceful. Like a tiny angel. An angel who’d probably wake us up at five a.m. demanding cake and her 923rd rewatch of Frozen.
I closed the door gently, yawned my way downstairs, and dragged my feet toward the kitchen. But I stopped halfway.
Voices.
Not the TV. Not Zade’s jazz playlist.
Men’s voices. Low. Tight. Tense.
I leaned toward the hallway on the west side of the house. The side terrace. One of Zade’s go-to spots for a smoke when something was chewing on his brain.
I moved quietly, slipping behind the sheer curtain that separated the hall from the glass room leading to the patio. The outdoor light was soft but bright enough to see the two figures standing there.
Zade and Aram.
Zade leaned against a pillar, hands in his pockets, shoulders relaxed—but I could read his body language like a children’s book. His jaw was tight. His gaze, sharp.
“I don’t like how close he’s getting to them, Aram. Too close.” His voice was low, but every word landed like a silent bullet.
Aram gave a slow nod. “I know. But he’s got access, and he’s exploiting a crack in the system. At least he hasn’t gone near Zoey.”
Zoey?
My heart missed a beat.
“If he touches my daughter…” Zade’s voice dropped lower, colder. I felt it crawl over my skin. “I don’t care how many countries I have to burn.”
My grip tightened on the curtain. Cold sweat slid down my temple. My fingers trembled.
This wasn’t Zade, the calm CEO who helped Zoey clean up glitter spills and read bedtime books with silly voices.
This was… the other version. The one I always knew existed. The one I’d chosen not to prod. Zade Solenzara, the man who wouldn’t blink before erasing someone from the face of the earth.
“Does he know we’ve figured out who he really is?” Aram asked, his voice smooth like some mob advisor in an old movie.
Zade didn’t answer right away. He stared out into the woods past the fence. Maybe at something I couldn’t see. Maybe at a past he never told me about.
“If he knew,” he said quietly, “he wouldn’t still be standing in this house.”
I held my breath.
Darius. They were talking about Darius.
I stepped back slowly. As slow as humanly possible. Careful not to trigger the creak of the wooden floor beneath me. I didn’t want to be seen. I didn’t want a confrontation. I just wanted to make it to the kitchen, eat something, and pretend none of this was real. Pretend I didn’t just hear my husband—the man who kissed my temple like I was made of glass—plotting the death of my past.
Or maybe he wasn’t. Maybe he was just protecting.
Protecting Zoey.
I closed my eyes for a second. Focus. One step back. Then another. Then water. Cold water to shut up this damn heartbeat trying to break my ribs.
One more step.
“And if he touches my wife, Aram…” Zade’s voice turned quiet and razor-sharp. “He’ll find out exactly who his old enemy really is.”
God.
Cold water in the middle of the night was supposed to calm a person down. But the glass I held felt like a joke. My hand still shook, and it wasn’t the room temperature.
I stood in the kitchen, sipping slow, eyes fixed on the rain trailing down the windows. The garden lights glowed dim through wet trees. Everything outside looked far away, even though all the chaos in my life had gathered right here.
I mean… my husband’s old enemy. My ex.
What the hell kind of life was this?
I drained the last of the water, and for the first time in ten minutes, I could breathe like a semi-normal person. I set the glass in the sink and started back upstairs. Quietly. Like I could leave all of that downstairs behind.
I slipped into our room without flipping on the light. The bed was still warm. I climbed in and turned to the side that was always Zade’s. The side now filled with more secrets than sleep.
My brain replayed every word he said to Aram. The tone. The way he said “my wife”—not as a warning, but like a claim. Not a toy. Not decoration. Not some woman who happened to live in his house.
Something that mattered.
Someone worth protecting.
Even if it meant burning everything down.
And for a moment, the fear twisted into something else. Something warm and strange. It spread across my chest, and I couldn’t tell if I was supposed to be pissed or… moved.
Soft footsteps outside the bedroom door snapped me out of it.
I shut my eyes quickly, not all the way. Just enough to keep him from knowing I was still awake. Just enough to see.
That faint mix of smoke and expensive cologne drifted in before his body did.
Zade.
The door clicked shut without a sound. His steps were slow, careful. Maybe he thought I was asleep. Maybe he knew I was faking it. He didn’t say anything. Didn’t turn on the light. Just the quiet sound of his jacket unzipping. Then the soft rustle as he pulled it off.
The mattress dipped gently under his weight. His breathing came steady behind me, close.
And before I could decide whether to tense up or keep pretending, his arm slid around my waist.
Warm. Heavy. Familiar.
Then his hand slipped under my sweater, resting on my stomach. Not in a way that asked for anything. Just… there. The pads of his fingers traced slow, lazy paths across my skin, like he was learning me by heart in the dark.
My pulse slowed. Not because I was calm.
Because my body gave up first.
“Bee,” he whispered. Barely audible.
I didn’t respond.
But his fingers kept moving. No pressure. No urgency. Just a touch, like he wasn’t sure I was real. Or maybe he needed to feel real himself.
I didn’t say a word.
Still, my body shifted. Just a little. Closer to him.
His breath warmed the back of my neck. His fingers slid between mine, curled around them.
Part of me wanted to speak. Ask him what he was hiding. Why he hadn’t told me about Darius. What he was so afraid of—about me, about us.
But the other part… the tired, overstretched, maxed-out part of me… just wanted to believe this night could still be saved.
That we could steal five minutes of peace.
No enemies. No past. No betrayal.
Just us.
Zade and Aubrey. And a silence that didn’t feel so heavy anymore.
His hand stopped moving. He just held me. Breathing against my back like he needed my skin to survive.
And somewhere between his warmth, our tangled fingers, and the rhythm of two heartbeats falling into sync…
Darkness pulled me under.