Chapter 38: Boundaries

(AURIANNA’S POV)

By the time I finally step out of my room, it’s been… I don’t even know. Hours. Long enough for the sun to shift, long enough for my adrenaline to burn out and leave nothing but throbbing pain and humiliation behind.

My foot aches, the pain travelling up my leg with every step I take, but I grit my teeth and keep moving anyway because lying in bed replaying everything that happened in that room was torture.

Pure, suffocating torture.

I have to find him. I need to set things straight before this whole damn house collapses under the weight of this weird tension between us.

I limp down the hallway, past the massive windows, gripping the handrail every few steps. The mansion is quiet—eerily quiet. No staff in sight. No Brielle’s laughter echoing from anywhere. It feels like the house is holding its breath.

Or maybe I’m the one holding mine.

I check the living room. Empty.

The kitchen. Empty.

Finally, when I force myself toward the bar room—because where the hell else would someone like Zayne run off to—I spot him.

He’s sitting on one of the leather stools in front of the bar, one hand wrapped around a glass, his posture slouched just enough to tell me he’s exhausted. Not physically.

Emotionally.

Before I can even get a word out, he turns almost immediately as if he sensed my presence.

His green eyes meet mine, and the way he looks at me… it almost makes me forget the reason why I came looking for him in the first place.

“Hey,” he says softly.

He stands up slowly, like he’s afraid I’ll bolt if he moves too fast. He takes one cautious step toward me and I take one back.

A stabbing pain shoots up my foot, and I hiss, wincing as my hand shoots out to grip the doorway for balance.

Zayne’s whole face tightens. “Anna, you’re not supposed to put any weight on that foot. You need to sit down and rest.”

He steps forward, faster this time, like his instinct is to help me.

“No.” I immediately back away again, lifting an arm between us like a barrier. “Stop.”

He freezes on the spot. His eyes drop, hurt flashing across his face so quickly I almost miss it.

“I don’t need your help,” I say, the coldness in my voice surprising even me. “And I don’t need you caring about me.”

Zayne’s jaw flexes, his shoulders tensing before he exhales slowly like he’s trying to keep himself together. “Aurianna… look, I know. I know I came onto you way too hard. I shouldn’t have, and I’m so sor—”

“I’m not here for your apology, Zayne.” I cut him off sharply. “You can keep it to yourself.”

His head jerks back a little as if I slapped him across the face.

“Aurianna, what is this?” he asks, frustration creeping into his voice. “Why are you being like this? If this is about what happened upstairs, I’m—look, I’m sorry. Alright? I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that and I will never do anything like that again.”

“I said,” I repeat, slower this time, “that’s not why I’m here.”

He looks at me like I’m speaking another language.

I inhale deeply, steadying myself. “I’m here to set boundaries.”

“Boundaries?” he repeats, like he genuinely can’t believe he’s hearing the word in his own house.

I nod. “I want distance.”

His brows pull together, the confused look on his face changing into something else. Fear? Anger? Hurt? I’m not sure. Maybe all three.

“From now on, you keep your distance from me. Don’t talk to me unless it’s something related to your safety. If you need me and I’m in my room, you have a phone—use it. Text me. Don’t come knocking. Don’t come walking in. Don’t…” My throat tightens, but I force the words out. “Just… don’t.”

He stares at me like I’ve gutted him.

“This is ridiculous,” he mutters, shaking his head. “Anna, ever since you walked into this house, you’ve been breathing down my neck. You said you’d never let me out of your sight let alone leave my side. You said that wherever I go, you go. Remember?” His voice cracks on the last word.

“I remember,” I say quietly. “I remember all of it.”

He takes a step closer but this time, I don’t take a step back.

“But we don’t have to be glued to each other,” I continue. “I can do my job without… this. Without us constantly being in each other’s personal space.”

It’s not a lie. But it’s not the full truth either.

I turn on my heel to leave but I remember something that makes me stop.

“One last thing,” I glance over my shoulder to look back at him. “Don’t ever call me Anna. From here on out, it’s Aurianna to you.”

The second the words land, I see it. The hurt look behind those green eyes. The way he looks at me like I’ve ripped his heart out of him with my bare hands. It’s more than enough for the guilt to claw deep into my chest but I don’t take it back.

I can’t.

If I soften now, if I break now, everything I’m trying to build—distance, professionalism, my sanity—comes crashing down.

So I tear my gaze away and start limping off.

His voice doesn’t follow me. His footsteps don’t chase me.

It’s just me.

Me and the memory of the look on his face, and the ache in my chest that I refuse to acknowledge.

Not now.

Not ever.