His for a year. - Chapter 23: Chapter 23

Zade didn’t say a word as he led me away. His grip was firm but not rough, like he was trying to control the storm inside him without letting it spill onto me. We walked in silence. My heart was thumping louder than my steps. I tried not to read too deeply into it.
But it was impossible not to.
The hallway felt longer than usual. Maybe because I was nervous, I knew something had shifted. When we finally stopped in front of his room's door, he opened it without hesitation, tugging me gently inside before closing it behind us.
His room smelled like him—cedarwood, musk, something clean and undeniably masculine. I stood frozen near the door while he walked in and tossed his suit jacket onto a chair. Without turning to look at me, he said, “Sit.”
I blinked. “What?”
He finally turned. “On the bed, Olive.”
My legs moved on their own, unsure, until I was perched on the edge of the bed like I was trespassing. I watched him. Watched him pull loose the knot of his tie with one tug, watched his fingers slip through the buttons of his shirt slowly—almost teasingly. The fabric slid off his shoulders and down his arms, revealing taut muscles, sculpted like some cruel sculptor had taken his time. His body wasn’t just attractive, it was captivating. Every movement he made, every subtle flex of muscle, held my eyes hostage.
I swallowed hard.
He noticed, because of course he did. Zade didn’t miss things that had to do with me. A flicker of something unreadable passed through his expression before he stepped closer.
“You’re staying here tonight,” he said simply.
I frowned. “What?”
“Every time you’re away from me, something happens.” His voice was calm but tight with frustration. “No more.”
“I can take care of myself—”
“Clearly,” he muttered, the sarcasm slicing through my chest. “You’re staying. End of discussion.”
He didn’t wait for my reply. He grabbed a towel from the bathroom shelf and disappeared behind the bathroom door. The sound of running water followed, but I barely heard it.
I just sat there, still on the edge of his bed like an unwanted guest, my fingers twisting into each other. I should’ve stood up and walked out—but I couldn’t move. Not because of fear. Because of him. The confusing ache in my chest, the way his protectiveness masked something else I didn’t yet understand.
Minutes passed.
Then the bathroom door creaked open again, and he stepped out.
Hair damp, towel wrapped around his waist, droplets of water racing down his chest.
And I—my breath caught in my throat. I suddenly felt hot.
He looked at me, and the heat in his gaze wasn’t anger this time. It was something else.
Dangerous.
I dropped my eyes and tried to look busy adjusting the hem of my dress, but it didn’t help. Not when the room suddenly felt too small. Too quiet. Too charged.
“Go and shower.” He stood in front of the standing mirror, vigorously rubbing his hair with another towel, making his muscles pop out more.
“Here?” I asked like I didn't know the answer to that question.
He nodded, fully aware I was watching him.
“Zade… I don’t have my towel or nightwear here.”
“There are towels in there. Use any. I’ll bring you something to wear.”
Before I could argue, he walked out of the room.
With shaky limbs, I walked into the bathroom. It was massive—elegant black marble, gold accents, double rain shower heads, and a mirror the size of a movie screen. It smelled like him in here—clean and expensive and masculine. I looked around for cameras, I didn't see any. Then I let my fingers run over the stack of plush white towels, then undressed, feeling almost sinful doing so in his space.
The water calmed me. A little. I emerged after a long soak and wrapped myself in one of the towels, only to see the white silk bathrobe hanging behind the door. I slipped it on, trying not to imagine what would happen next. Trying not to wonder if he was still shirtless out there.
When I stepped back into the room, he was lying on the bed, head propped lazily on his hand, watching me with those slow-burning eyes.
He tilted his head slightly, like appreciating art in a gallery. “There.”
He pointed to the edge of the bed. My nightwear.
I walked over, bent to pick it up… and froze.
It was one of the shortest, most ridiculous pieces in my closet—black satin, sleeveless, barely-there hemline. No robe. No alternative. He chose it on purpose.
I turned to him, narrowing my eyes. “You had options.”
He didn’t even try to lie. “I know.”
I sighed and went back to the bathroom to change, trying to ignore the way my skin prickled with awareness. When I returned and slipped under the covers, he was still watching me. Calm. Still. That unreadable expression back on his face.
But his eyes… they told a different story. One that curled low in my belly.
He turned off the light, and silence settled between us, thick and warm.
And even with the space we left between us, I had never felt more aware of someone in my life.
We lay with our backs to each other, the silence stretching long and heavy between us. Not angry, not cold—just thick with unspoken thoughts and emotions neither of us knew how to name. The darkness in the room didn’t help; it only made the tension more vivid, pressing against my skin like a second blanket.
My eyes stared out at nothing. My mind wasn’t so quiet.
What would happen if he rolled over? If he reached for my waist? Would I let him? Would I stop him? Do I even want to?
My heart pounded.
Still facing the wall, I cleared my throat quietly. “Thank you… for defending me back there.”
He didn’t speak immediately, but I heard the soft rustle of the sheets as he shifted behind me.
“I know it wasn’t easy,” I added, my voice small. “Especially not with your family. I also—I’m sorry. For yelling at you. For making you slap your sister. I never wanted to create any of this.”
A beat passed.
Then I felt the bed dip as he turned. I rolled over too, cautiously, and found him watching me.
My brain froze, Zade and I in the same bed, staring at each other.
“You didn’t make me do anything,” he said quietly. “That was all me. And it wasn't difficult.”
His words made me blink. Zade? Taking accountability? That was new.
“I should’ve protected you from the start,” he added, voice low. “That’s what I should’ve done since I brought you here. I let my anger, and... a lot of other things, get in the way.”
I searched his face, looking for insincerity. But there was none. He meant it.
My lips parted, surprised.
Then—he smirked.
“And for the record, you didn’t make me slap Zara. Her mouth did. And maybe the dramatics were long overdue.”
A shocked laugh burst out of me. “You didn’t just say that.”
Zade chuckled, a little quieter. “We’re not the only ones who think she talks too much.”
For a moment, it was just laughter in the dark. Gentle, surprising, healing.
Eventually, the air around us softened. Zade turned back to his side, and I did too—this time, a little closer. Close enough to feel the warmth of his back through the sheets. No touching, but no wall of ice between us either.
It felt like a start. A start to something new.
_ _ _
I stirred as daylight broke through the curtains. The space beside me was cold. I blinked the sleep from my eyes and rolled over.
Zade was gone.
But then my phone vibrated on the nightstand.
Zade: “Had to leave early. You looked too peaceful to wake. Don’t leave the house today. I’ll see you later.”
My lips curved, even as I rubbed my eyes. I stared at the text for a while, holding onto the rare moment of softness. It felt like our honeymoon, kindness and peace in the air. I blinked at the message again. Short. No emojis. Classic Zade.
I lingered in the room for a bit, wrapping myself back into the sheets, refusing to analyze too much. But eventually, I peeled myself up and walked to my room. I changed into shorts and a T-shirt, and headed toward the stairs.
I just needed air. Real air. Fresh and unfiltered.
But the moment I stepped into the corridor, Anna was there.
Leaning against the wall like she’d been waiting. Her arms crossed with an amused little smirk lifting one corner of her lips.
“Well, well,” she said, her eyes sweeping over me like a scanner. “You look… rested.”
I froze. “Good morning.” I didn't know what else to say.
She stepped forward, brushing invisible lint from her blazer sleeve. “You know, it’s funny. In all my years with the Avners, I’ve seen women try all kinds of stunts to get Zade’s attention. But sleeping in his bed? That’s a new one. Bold.”
I stiffened, gripping the bannister. “I didn’t plan to—”
“Oh, sweetie, you don’t have to explain.” Her tone was silk over steel. “I mean, I understand. The girl from Queens, landing herself in his room. A dream, right?”
My jaw clenched. “If you have something to say, say it.”
She took another step closer, now well inside my personal space. Her perfume hit like a warning. “I just want you to know, dear Olive… whatever you think this is turning into, it isn’t. You’re playing a game you don’t even know the rules of. And Zade? He’s just indulging a phase. A break from the world he belongs in.”
Her words stung more than I wanted to admit.
“You don’t belong here, you never will.” She added, her voice dropping. “And one day, Zade’s going to wake up and remember that.”
I swallowed the knot in my throat. “Do you rehearse this? Or does it come naturally?”
She smirked. “Oh, I don’t need to rehearse. I’ve been by his side for as long as he'd been born. I’ve seen it all. The rise, the collapse, the betrayals. And I’ve cleaned every mess. Don’t think for a second I won’t clean you up too— you're on your way to becoming one.”
“I thought you were too busy to be hovering around us,” I said, trying to mask the rising fear tightening in my chest.
She let out a low, mocking chuckle. “Aww, look who’s found her voice. Just one night in his bed and suddenly your vocal cords work perfectly.”
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. The words were there—burning, tangled—but too hot and twisted to speak.
She then leaned in, whispering now. “Enjoy your little fairy tale. But remember—it ends.”
She turned on her heels and walked away like she’d just signed a warning letter with a flourish.
She left me standing there, frozen in place. Her perfume still lingered in the air, like poison. I hated that she could shake me like that—turn my backbone into water with just a few words.
I needed air. It was a necessity at this point.
I made my way outside the door and into the garden, the same quiet spot I’d sat in days ago with Leo. It felt different now. The breeze was cooler, like the sky knew something I didn’t.
I sank onto the stone bench beneath the tree, curling my knees up and hugging them. For a while, I just sat there, letting silence wrap around me like a blanket—until my fingers reached for my phone on instinct.
Aliyah.
I hesitated for a second, then dialed. She picked up halfway through the first ring.
“Olive?”
“Yeah. It’s me.” My voice cracked.
“Oh my God. I’ve been so worried. Why didn’t you—” She paused, catching herself. “Are you okay?”
I looked up at the stars. “Not really. But I’m breathing.”
She let out a shaky breath. “I saw everything. The video… the slap. I'm so sorry about everything. People are insane.”
“Yeah. Tell me about it.” My voice was low.
“I can’t even go to class,” she whispered. “People are threatening me online. Saying I was part of some big setup. That I am a friend to someone like you. Some guy DM’d me a picture of me walking and said he’s watching me.”
“What?” I sat up straighter. “Aliyah, that’s serious. Have you told someone?”
“I told the school, but they’re… you know, slow. Jake said I should stay away from the public for now so I don't get caught in the crossfire. Especially how they discovered I was linked to you so sharply.”
I closed my eyes. Guilt sank its teeth into me. “I’m so sorry. He's right. You’re getting attacked because of me.”
“No,” she snapped gently. “Don’t say that. This is bigger than both of us. And you didn’t ask for this. You didn’t deserve what happened at that launch. And I am still your sister, proudly.”
I swallowed hard. “Thanks. Really.”
There was a short silence, then I asked, “Have you heard from Amanda?”
Aliyah paused. “That’s the weird part. Nothing. Not a call, not a text. She posted a couple stories at some restaurant like none of this ever happened.”
Something in my chest tightened. Amanda always had something to say—especially when things went south. Her silence was louder than any opinion.
“I don’t know what to make of it,” I muttered.
“Me neither,” Aliyah said. “But listen… get through this week, okay? You’ve been through worse.”
I nodded, even though she couldn’t see me. “Okay.”
“I love you, Olive.”
“Love you too.”
“Anytime you need me, please call me.” She added.
“Thanks again. Bye for now.”
We ended the call, and I stared at the grass for a while, my heart heavier than before, the phone resting loosely on my lap. The flowers didn’t sway, the wind didn’t sing. Everything just... still. Like me.
I hadn’t heard a word from Amanda. Not a text, not a call, not even a forwarded meme pretending everything was normal.
My mind spiraled, trying to make excuses—maybe Amanda was busy, maybe she didn’t know what to say. But the silence was too loud to ignore.
Maybe Zade was right.
Maybe people really would trade you in for attention, for safety, for something shinier. Maybe loyalty wasn’t as loud as betrayal.
I shook my head, pushing the thought away. That wasn’t Amanda. It couldn’t be.
I stood to leave the garden, my chest still heavy, like a warning whispered just beneath my skin.