Zayn sat with the kind of presence that demanded attention.
The room was already his, even though he had only just arrived. He didn't need to say a word—his presence alone altered the air, thickening it with something intangible yet undeniable. Power. Control. Possession.
He lounged against the sofa as though it had been made for him, the dark fabric molding to his form with an effortless elegance. Behind him, his bodyguards stood like shadows—tall, silent, and unmoving. The Al-Fayed family sat across from him, the four of them mirroring his stillness, though for vastly different reasons.
Nadia's father, Zafir Al-Fayed, had the expression of a man who had spent his entire life brokering deals with dangerous men. He showed no outward reaction, only watching carefully, calculating. Beside him, Nadia's mother kept her back straight, hands folded in her lap, the only sign of her tension the way her fingers twitched every now and then.
And then there was Ayla.
The youngest Al-Fayed sat with her arms crossed, dark eyes flashing. Unlike her parents, who hid their emotions behind a carefully crafted veneer, Ayla made no attempt to hide the storm brewing inside her. She looked moments away from launching herself across the room and clawing at him, like a tiny, furious wildcat.
Zayn almost smirked.
But he wasn't here for Ayla.
His gaze flicked to the only one that mattered.
Nadia.
She was still in the same silk pajamas she had worn when she first saw the paparazzi outside the gates, her long dark hair cascading down her back in waves. The morning light from the tall windows illuminated her skin, making her look ethereal—otherworldly.
Mine.
Zayn had spent two years watching her. Two years keeping his distance. Two years resisting the urge to destroy everything and everyone standing in her way just so she could finally turn and look at him.
It was the first time they had been in the same room since the engagement had been announced.
And she refused to look at him.
She sat rigid in her seat, her gaze fixed stubbornly on the empty coffee table between them. Her fists clenched and unclenched in her lap, the only outward sign of her emotions.
That wouldn't do.
With a lazy motion, he lifted a hand and signaled his assistant.
A black folder was placed on the table between them. Zayn let the silence stretch for a beat before he finally spoke.
"Sign it."
His voice was smooth, quiet, yet it cut through the tension in the room like a blade.
Nadia's shoulders stiffened.
Her father was the one to speak first. "And what exactly are the terms, Mr. Alaric?" he already knew what the terms where, he just wanted his family to hear them and give Nadia a chance to add hers.
Zayn exhaled, slow and measured. "It's simple," he said, eyes still locked on Nadia. "After the marriage, I will ensure Aslan is unable to buy out your company. And I'll give your daughter two months to prove herself."
A flicker of something crossed Nadia's expression.
Zayn knew what she was thinking. She was wondering why. Why would he give her two months? Why wasn't he just shutting down the rumors himself?
She had no idea.
If it had been up to him, there wouldn't have even been rumors in the first place.
If it had been up to him, this entire situation would have never escalated this far.
If it had been up to him, she would have been his already.
Because the truth—the one truth he would never say out loud—was that he had never intended to let her go in the first place.
Two years.
He had spent two years watching, waiting, letting her play at normalcy, letting her think she was in control of her life. But the moment the world turned against her, he had moved without hesitation.
The engagement was inevitable.
This wasn't a deal. It wasn't a business transaction.
It was a claim.
A move in a game that only he understood.
Because no matter how much she fought, no matter how much she hated it, no matter how much she glared at him like she wanted to burn him alive, it was funny because she was already his.
And she would realize it soon enough.
But for now, he let her believe she had a choice.
"two months," he repeated, his voice a low hum. "If you prove yourself, I'll let you keep what's yours."
Her jaw tightened. "And if I don't?"
The corner of his mouth twitched. "Then you'll still be my wife."
A sharp intake of breath.
Ayla was the first to react, she shot up from her seat.
"This is insane!" she snapped, shooting up from her seat, her hands balled into fists at her sides. "You're really just handing her over to him? Just like that?"
She was glaring at their father now, her voice thick with disbelief, with betrayal.
Zafir Al-Fayed, ever the composed businessman, didn't flinch.
"This is the best path forward," he said simply, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Ayla's expression twisted. "Best path forward? You mean for the company."
Zafir exhaled slowly. "For all of us."
It was the truth.
And that was what made it worse.
As much as Nadia wanted to believe this was all some cruel game, some deal made solely for power and business—she could see the truth in her father's eyes.
He wasn't sacrificing her.
He was protecting her.
Because even though she hated it, Zayn Alaric was the safest option she had left.
And Zayn knew it, too.
His gaze never wavered from her as he leaned forward, resting his elbows against his knees, hands clasped together.
"So?" His voice was low, velvety, but there was something sharp beneath it. "What's it going to be, Nadia?"
Her throat felt dry.
She wanted to fight it. Wanted to spit in his face and tell him to go to hell. Wanted to find another way out, any way out.
But there wasn't one.
She could either fight to reclaim what was hers with Zayn standing between her and total ruin.
Or she could let Aslan and that bitch Sara tear her apart completely.
Her fingers curled into the fabric of her silk pajama pants.
And Zayn just sat there, watching.
Watching as the war inside her raged.
Watching as she realized—really, truly realized—that she had no other choice.
Her grip loosened.
Slowly, she reached forward, her fingers wrapping around the pen.
She didn't look at him as she pressed the tip to the paper.
Didn't look at him as she signed her name, each stroke of ink sealing her fate.
Didn't look at him as she set the pen down and exhaled shakily, like the weight of the decision was crushing her all at once.
And Zayn?
He never looked away.
His obsession had just become something tangible.
And now that she was his, he would make sure she never forgot it.