"Me."
The word settled between us, heavy and irrevocable.
Zane whitmore looked at me like he was seeing me for the first time.
And I knew, with absolute certainty, that whatever happened next, there was no turning back.
Zane didn't answer right away.
He leaned back against the booth, one arm resting along the leather, his posture loose in a way that felt intentional. Like he wanted me to notice how little effort he was using to hold the situation.
I didn't move either.
The distance between us stayed exactly where I'd put it.
"You're confident," he said finally.
" you can say that ," I replied with indifference.
He watched me for a long moment, eyes unreadable. I could feel the weight of his attention, the kind that made you aware of every word you were about to say before you said it.
"I didn't come here for you," he said.
My jaw tightened. "No. You came for her."
"Yes."
"And you thought a nightclub was an appropriate place to start?"
His mouth curved slightly. Not a smile. More like acknowledgment. "She agreed to meet."
"She didn't agree to be evaluated."
"She knew it was a date."
I let out a quiet breath through my nose. "You know exactly what I mean."
He tilted his head. "Then say it plainly."
I met his gaze. "She doesn't belong in your world."
Something flickered in his eyes. Annoyance, maybe. Or interest. Hard to tell.
"And you do?" he asked.
Inside, my heart started racing. Every story I'd ever heard about him rose up at once. Men disappearing. Deals gone wrong. The quiet understanding that Zane Whitmore didn't need to raise his voice to end someone.
He could end me within a single thought.
And my grandfather wouldn't lift a finger fast enough to matter.
But I didn't look away.
"Yes," I said.
He studied me like he was peeling something back layer by layer. "You're not afraid of me."
I almost laughed.
"I am," I said honestly. "That's why I'm still sitting here."
That seemed to amuse him.
"Most people mistake fear for obedience," he said.
"And most powerful men mistake fear for respect," I shot back.
His brow lifted slightly. "Careful."
"I am being careful," I replied. "Careful not to let my cousin walk into something she can't survive."
He leaned forward now, forearms resting on his knees. The movement was subtle but deliberate. The space between us shrank just enough to remind me who I was dealing with.
"I want Ivy," he said. "She's the one your grandfather offered. She's the one I agreed to meet. And she's the one I'll get."
The certainty in his voice made my stomach drop.
I kept my hands still in my lap. "You don't need her."
"That's not your decision."
"No," I said quietly. "But it is my responsibility as her sister to protect her."
He let out a short breath. "You're asking me to change the terms of an agreement because you feel protective."
"I'm telling you the agreement will fail if you don't."
That earned a faint smile. "You assume I care whether it succeeds emotionally."
I leaned back slightly, reclaiming space. "I assume you care about control."
His gaze sharpened.
"Go on."
I said. "She'll shrink. She'll disappear inside whatever role you expect her to play. And eventually, she'll break. Quietly. Publicly. It won't matter. That kind of damage always shows."
"And you think you won't?" he asked.
I swallowed.
"I know how to survive men like you."
His expression didn't change, but the air shifted. He was paying attention now in a way that felt dangerous.
"You think this is survival?" he asked. "Offering yourself like a substitute?"
"I think it's leverage," I said. "And you respect leverage."
Silence stretched between us.
I could hear the muffled music from downstairs, laughter bleeding faintly through the walls. The night carried on, completely unaware of how close I was to something I might not be able to undo.
Zane straightened.
"No," he said.
The word was flat. Final.
My chest tightened. "No?"
"I won't switch," he continued. "I don't take replacements. I don't respond to emotional appeals. And I don't reward interference."
I nodded slowly, forcing my breathing to stay even. "So that's it?."
"That's it."
I stood.
The floor felt steadier than I expected. Or maybe I'd gone numb.
"I fucking hate you." I said to him at loss at what else to tell him.
He looked up at me. " I don't care"
I turned to leave.
That was when a sound cracked through the building.
A gunshot. Clear as day, you'd be a fool to not recognize the sound.