On their way back home, Zayn and William stopped at the wine store in the middle of town. They walked in together, towering well above the other purchasers as they walked the aisles, an attendant following closely behind, her knees almost reaching the ground in obeisance and pure surprise that Zayn had visited the store himself. Most times, he made orders and had them delivered to his mansion, so they seldom got to see him around. The shock on their faces when the door was pushed open and he strode in, was palpable, as the attendants argued between themselves about who was going to attend to him.
“Sir, is there anything in particular you are looking for? You can take a look at your regulars on this other aisle.” The petite lady pointed to the aisle next to the one they were in, her eyes eager and her smile on the verge of tearing her lips.
“I’m searching for something in particular,” Zayn answered without looking at her. He continued checking the bottles on the aisle one after the other, smiling in satisfaction when he finally found it. “Here!” he muttered, grabbing and handing it over to the attendant.
“Can I get a carton of that please?”
“Of course, sir.” She nodded and moved away from them back to join the other attendants, waiting excitedly to render their help.
“A carton?” William mused. “Ms. Power only asked for one bottle.”
“She loves wine,” Zayn answered unconsciously. “And since she has been unable to have them at her own leisure since the saga at her cottage, I think she would love the gesture. I don’t want her to feel like she’s missing anything until the cottage is completed.”
“If I didn’t know better, I would think you were intentionally stalling the work on the cottage so you get to keep her around for much longer.”
Zayn turned to look at William. “Did Susan put you up to this?”
He raised his eyes in pleasant surprise. “My mom thinks so too? I thought I was beginning to overthink things.”
“You both are,” Zayn murmured, stalking out of the store into the car. He blew out a breath once comfortable in the passenger’s seat and leaned back on the headrest. Zayn wondered what he had been thinking about sounding like he had been studying Rina since the day he met her. He was on the verge of sounding like a stalker, or worse, a man in love. He was bothered when the thought didn’t bring a sour taste to his tongue.
After a few minutes, Williams walked out of the store with the carton of wine. He dumped it in the boot before getting behind the wheel and pulling out back into the street. The ride was quiet until Zayn asked William to stop abruptly.
The tires screeched as he brought the car to a halt, looking back at Zayn who was already out of the car, making his way into a florist shop. William chuckled to himself and shook his head, amused by the fact that Zayn constantly denied his feelings even when his actions said the opposite. Inside the florist’s shop, Zayn selected a mixture of the different colors of roses and grabbed a transparent glass vase to go along with it, before returning to the car.
“Don’t you dare say anything,” He warned as he got in. “Get us out of here!”
“Of course.”
“I don’t have feelings for Rina Power,” he said, more to himself than to William.
“I have never doubted that.”
“Feelings are fickle,” Zayn continued. “And all they do is make things a whole lot complicated. They aren’t even real just some release of chemicals in the body that make you believe something that isn’t.”
William nodded, enjoying the monologue.
“And I have my business to attend to. That alone demands so much of my time. You don’t expect me to worsen things for myself intentionally further. I would never escape the consequences of that.”
“I understand you, Sir,” William muttered, giving his friend and boss a mock salute before stepping on the gas. They were at the villa in no time, with Zayn grabbing the flowers while William balanced the carton of wine in one hand and the vase in another. For some weird reason, Zayn rang the bell before pushing the door open, heading straight to the kitchen with a feigned expressionless face.
“You are not supposed to be here,” Rina whined as soon as she saw him saunter in. She blocked him from seeing anything, wheeling him around and out of the kitchen. The heat in the kitchen made her face sweaty, and some strands of her hair stuck to her face. Zayn reached out without thinking, his hand hovering over her face, and then, suddenly realizing what he was about to do, he let his hand drop to his side.
An awkward silence ensued, building a slow tension between them. Their eyes locked, unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. The soft hum of the villa’s surroundings seemed to face into oblivion, replaced by their sharp and raging breathing. The scent of simmering spices filled the room, mixing with the faint fragrance of the roses Zayn held in one hand. The combination seemed to make Zayn heady and he toyed with the thought of moving in a tad closer and damning the consequences.
His eyes drifted from her eyes to the strands of hair clinging to her cheek. His hands twitched at his side, resisting the urge to touch her, to push the hair back from her face, to let his fingers linger on her skin. Rina seemed to be able to read his eyes, as her lips parted slightly. None of them dared speak a word as the space between them seemed to shrink as if an invisible threat pulled them closer.
Then, she broke the silence, her voice barely above a whisper. “You really shouldn’t be here.”
“I know,” he murmured. “I just really wanted to get you these flowers.”