Chapter 19
Victoria stormed out of the gala, her heels clicking against the pavement with each furious step. The cool night air hit her face like a slap, but it did little to calm the fire raging inside her. Damian’s audacity was suffocating, and Selena’s venomous presence only made things worse. She needed to get out, to breathe, to think.
Her car wasn’t far, parked under a lamppost that cast an eerie glow on the sleek black paint. She fumbled with her clutch to find her keys, muttering under her breath, her frustration bubbling over.
“Mrs. Cross,” a velvety voice called out behind her, stopping her in her tracks.
Victoria’s grip on her clutch tightened as she turned sharply, her eyes narrowing. Zayden Huntington stood a few feet away, his hands casually tucked into his pockets. His smirk was still firmly in place, but there was a curiosity in his gaze that caught her off guard.
“It’s Miss Cross,” she hissed, her voice sharp. “I am no one’s wife.”
Zayden inclined his head, his expression unreadable. “My apologies,” he said smoothly, taking a cautious step closer. “I didn’t mean to offend. Though, from what I gathered inside, your… husband—or should I say ex-husband—seems to have a different view on that matter.”
Victoria’s lips curled into a bitter smile. “I don’t know that man,” she snapped, her voice cold. “He’s not worthy of that title.”
Zayden raised an eyebrow, his smirk softening into something more genuine. “Noted,” he said simply. “It sounds like there’s quite a story there.”
“There’s no story,” she retorted, fumbling with her keys again. “There’s only betrayal and lies, and I’m not interested in recounting it to a stranger.”
Zayden chuckled softly, his deep voice warming the cool night air. “I understand, Miss Cross. Trust me, I’m not here to pry… unless you want me to.”
Victoria shot him a glare but didn’t reply, finally pulling her keys free and pressing the unlock button. The car’s lights flashed, but she made no move to get in, her curiosity at Zayden’s persistence holding her in place.
“You left in quite a hurry,” he said after a moment, his voice lighter now. “Galas usually don’t have this effect on people.”
“They do when you’re surrounded by snakes,” Victoria muttered, crossing her arms. “And what about you, Mr. Huntington? Why are you out here instead of charming the crowd inside?”
Zayden grinned, his teeth flashing in the lamplight. “I figured I’d try my luck charming someone else.”
Victoria blinked, caught off guard by his boldness. “You don’t even know me.”
“No,” he admitted, his tone softening. “But I’d like to. There’s something about you, Miss Cross. Something… extraordinary.”
She rolled her eyes, turning away. “Save the flattery for someone who cares.”
“I’m serious,” he said, stepping closer. His voice was quieter now, but no less confident. “You carry yourself like someone who’s been through hell and back. Someone who’s still standing, no matter what’s been thrown at her. That’s rare.”
Victoria’s hand tightened around her keys, her heart pounding in her chest. “What do you want from me, Zayden?” she asked, her voice wary.
“A date,” he said simply, his smirk returning. “Dinner, drinks, your choice. No expectations, no strings. Just a chance to get to know the woman behind the glare.”
Victoria laughed, though there was no humor in it. “You must think I’m incredibly naive if you think I’d say yes to that.”
“Not naive,” he countered, his eyes locked on hers. “Cautious. Careful. And for good reason, I imagine. But I’m not Damian, and I’m not Selena. I have no agenda, Miss Cross. Just genuine curiosity.”
Victoria hesitated, her mind racing. There was something disarming about him, something that made her want to lower her walls, if only for a moment. But she couldn’t afford that kind of vulnerability—not now.
“I can’t,” she said finally, shaking her head. “I appreciate the offer, but it’s not… I’m not ready for that.”
Zayden nodded, his expression unchanging. “Fair enough,” he said. “But when you are—” He reached into his pocket, pulling out a sleek black business card and holding it out to her. “Call me.”
Victoria stared at the card for a moment before reluctantly taking it. His name was printed in bold, elegant letters, along with his phone number. No company name, no title—just Zayden Huntington.
“This doesn’t mean anything,” she said firmly, slipping the card into her clutch.
“I wouldn’t dream of assuming otherwise,” Zayden replied, his smirk returning. “But for what it’s worth, I think you’re more ready than you realize.”
Victoria scoffed, unlocking her car door. “Good night, Mr. Huntington.”
“Good night, Miss Cross,” he said, stepping back. But just as she was about to slide into the driver’s seat, his voice stopped her once more.
“For what it’s worth,” he added, his tone softer now, almost reverent, “I’d love to know the woman who rose up from her dead.”
