Zeus

Zeus

I watched Zoe inadvertently make her way across the living room toward me.

Well, not me. John and Margaret.

She'd spent the whole night mingling with everyone except me.

Every time I tried to get closer to her, she moved in the opposite direction. It was too obvious and ridiculous. She avoided me like I had this contagious virus she didn't want to catch. For heaven's sake.

And for some crazy reason, it only made me want to chase her more.

Oliver Edwards must have felt the same way, because he'd followed her everywhere, like an annoying bee. He'd hung around too close, leaning in every time she spoke, smiling like he owned her already.

He'd sent a silent message to everyone in the room—hands off. She's mine.

That thought pissed me off!

Dammit.

I shouldn't care. She was nothing to me.

But then why was I gripping my glass so tightly? Why had I been watching them all night like a hawk, ready to pounce the moment Oliver tried something?

Oh hell.

Before I could stew any longer, Zoe waltzed up to us, a wide smile on her face. "I just wanted to thank you again for the lovely evening, John and Margaret."

"Our pleasure," Margaret said, winking. "It seems you've made quite an impression!"

Zoe laughed, and it was still the same as high school—bright and full of life. For a moment, I was eighteen again, sitting with her on the bleachers after school, making plans for a future we would never have.

"So, what do you think?" John nudged me. "Would your company handle Zoe's shipments?"

I played with my glass stem, trying to figure out what to say next as my gaze drifted to Zoe. "It depends."

Zoe arched a brow and asked. "On what?"

I shrugged. "If you'll trust the Petrakis name with your business."

Zoe's expression was unreadable. But the slight tension in her jaw told me everything.

Would she be comfortable with this arrangement? Would her family approve?

Given the ongoing war between our families, I highly doubted it.

"I'm sure she will," John cut in, smiling.

"Well, if you'll excuse me," Zoe said politely, gesturing to the hallway. "I'm afraid jet lag is catching up to me."

"Sleep well," Margaret replied.

Without a second glance at me, Zoe headed for the doors.

Next to me, John caught me staring and lowered his voice. "She's impressive, isn't she?"

I inhaled sharply. "Yeah," I muttered, taking a sip of my wine. "She is."

He studied me, smirking like he could read my mind, but didn't say anything more.

Without thinking, I bid goodbye to John and Margaret and followed Zoe toward the exit. My feet moved like they had minds of their own, trailing after her past the grand living room and into the dimly lit hallway.

Just when I was about to catch up to her, I hesitated.

What the fuck was I doing? Why was I following her? It wasn't like I needed to talk to her.

But then she stopped in front of me, looking at the two hallways ahead. One went right, the other left.

She hesitated, then chose the left one.

I smirked, knowing she made a wrong turn.

After a few seconds, she returned, looking puzzled at the hallway, and went right.

I grinned wider. Wrong again, sweetheart.

Suddenly, she reappeared again, this time walking towards the center. But then turned back, clearly unsure of where to go.

It was at that moment that she finally noticed me, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watching her with pure amusement.

Her eyes widened slightly before she quickly hid it with a straight face.

"What are you doing?"

I lifted a brow. "I could ask you the same thing."

She crossed her arms. "I was going to my room."

I let my gaze drift over the hallways behind her. "Oh? Then why were you walking around the hallways like a lost puppy?"

Her lips pressed into a firm line. "I wasn't lost."

I chuckled. "Really? So, you always take a tour of the hallways before going to bed?"

She huffed, rolling her eyes. "It's a big place. I was just...taking my time."

"Right." I nodded, suppressing a grin. "It's totally normal to turn left, then right, then forward, then back again..."

"Okay, fine!" she snapped, throwing her hands up. "I forgot which way my room was. Happy?"

I bit back a laugh. "Very."

She looked clearly annoyed. But then her lips twitched—I knew she was fighting a smile.

"So—" I pushed off the wall and moved closer to her, invading the space between us. "Want me to walk you to your room? You know, in case you take a wrong turn and end up in the wine cellar. Wouldn't want you running into White Boy."

"White Boy?"

"Yeah, the ghost of the wine cellar." I smirked. "He enjoys scaring lost guests."

"Hey!" She poked her finger in my chest—too firm, too deliberate, like she wanted to make sure I felt it. "If you're trying to scare me, it's not working. I don't need your help. I can find my room."

"You sure?" I tilted my head, lowering my voice. "Well, if you get lost again, or see ghosts, just scream my name, and I'll come running."

Something flickered in her eyes, something dark and heated, but she masked it just as quickly. "Ugh. I'd rather get eaten by a ghost than scream your name."

I chuckled, then said, "Careful, Zoe. Keep acting this cute, and I might start thinking you actually enjoy talking to me."

She scoffed. "You're delusional. I'm not acting cute, and you're the last person I want to talk to."

"Is that why you were avoiding me the whole evening?"

Her lips curled into a sweet, mocking smile. "Oh? So, you've been watching me all night? I hope I entertained you."

I smirked. Witty. Sharp. But she wasn't the only one who knew how to play this game.

"Watching you? I only pay attention to things that matter," I drawled, stepping closer, until the space between us nearly disappeared. My gaze locked onto her, my voice dipping lower, rougher. "And trust me, Zoe, you don't."

For a moment, something flickered in her eyes. Something unreadable. Then she let out a soft, dangerous laugh.

"That's good to know. Because the feeling is mutual, Mr. Petrakis. You mean absolutely nothing to me."

I clenched my jaw.

Eight years ago, I wouldn't have imagined we would one day act like total strangers. Like we hadn't spent years knowing every detail about each other—our favorite foods, the songs we hummed in the shower, the scars in our bodies, our ambitions and goals in life, our wildest dreams and fantasies, and our shared intimacy.

Dammit. I shouldn't be bothered.

I looked away, pretending the tightness in my chest wasn't real. She was standing so close, yet she bravely stood her ground. I could smell her perfume—that sweet floral scent. Her familiar natural scent, so arousing, made me burn inside.

What the fuck was wrong with me?

My heart was made of stone, and she wasn't important enough to change that.

"If you're so eager to stay away from me," I said, my voice calm despite the fire beneath my skin, "then don't push your distribution deal with John. You know damn well I'm the one handling all his shipments."

Silence stretched between us, the tension thickening, coiling like an invisible cord pulling us closer.

Then she blinked, as if shaking off whatever thoughts had clouded her mind.

"I didn't know that until tonight," she said, her head tilted slightly. "But that won't stop me from getting a distribution deal with him."

My eyebrows snapped together. "So, this deal is really important to you, huh? You wouldn't mind working closely with me?"

"Yes, this deal is important to me. But working with you? No way. There are other shipping companies more competent than yours. I'll ask John to make an exception and have my products shipped by your competitor."

I chuckled, shaking my head. "You really think John would let that happen? It's all about trust, and he trusts me to deliver his stuff perfectly."

Her eyes gleamed with challenge. "Let's see, shall we?"

"I know you won't succeed."

Chin lifted, she confidently declared, "I will. And you're so wrong. I hate you more now than before. I can't stand being near you for a second."

A smirk tugged at my lips as I leaned closer. Our faces were an inch apart, very close.

"Is that so, Miss Stavrakos?" I raised an eyebrow, subtly challenging her. My gaze shifted from her lips to her eyes. "Then stop giving me that look like you're asking to be kissed. It's sending the wrong message."

"You wish," she whispered, then turned on her heel and walked away. Her head held high, hips swaying just enough to remind me of the fire simmering beneath her cool exterior.

I shook my head. Still the same stubborn, impossible, infuriatingly beautiful woman.

I went to my room, slamming the door behind me, breathing hard. I paced back and forth, running a hand through my hair. The heat in my veins refused to settle.

I ripped my clothes off and got in the shower, hoping the freezing water would get her out of my head.

But it didn't.

Eight damn years, and she still had the power to set my blood on fire.

As I let the water pour over me, I promised myself I'd keep my distance from Zoe. No matter how much I wanted to explain why I left her. No matter how much I still felt pulled toward her.

Some things were better left in the past.