Page 49 of Deadly Secrets

“Is that so?” I challenged him as I lifted my fork and slowly drove a carrot into my mouth.

“Make it as you wish. Some things are better left in the past because it would be very painful to see the image you have of your father turn into something too twisted for you to handle after his death. I don’t wish to taint the memory of the dead, especially because the truth wouldn’t do any good at this point,” he stated with the iciest tone.

“What do you mean?” I asked, confused.

“I mean what I mean.” He paused. “I’ve had enough of this shit show. I’m going to my office. Claudia, don’t wait up for me.” Everyone stilled, and as soon as William left the room, Noah tried to crack a joke to lighten the mood with little success. I looked around the table. Everyone visibly felt uncomfortable after our exchange, but my head kept spinning about what he’d said.

It would be very painful to see the image you have of your father turn into something too twisted for you to handle after his death.

Was there something awful that my father kept hidden from me, something that drove William to resign? After all, he was one of the founders, and I believed that knowing how stubborn he’d always been, it wouldn’t have been easy for him to leave Cos Pharmaceuticals.

“I’m going to bed,” I announced. “Claudia, thank you for the dinner. Would you like me to help you tomorrow with the Thanksgiving preparations?” Offering my help was the minimum I could do for a woman who was clearly delusional for marrying that jerk.

“Oh, that’d be lovely. Thank you, my dear!”

* * *

I excused myself to my room and swapped my leggings and sweater for a comfortable set of silk pajamas. I kind of regretted coming to this place, which was plagued with bittersweet memories.

I dozed off pretty fast, but I instinctively woke up during my sleep. I switched my bedside table lamp on and checked my phone; it was 3:46 a.m.

Curiosity got the best of me, so I left my room and explored the house. Maybe I could eat some of that dessert I didn’t get the chance to taste during dinner. I headed downstairs, but as soon as I reached the ground floor, I noticed a faint light coming out of the kitchen. I walked toward it, wondering who might be struggling to sleep. Maybe they also had the same idea about getting a bite of that wonderful chocolate cake.

When the fridge door shut, Zayn’s figure emerged from behind it. The dim light above the stove cast shadows on his well-toned body. He stood there, holding a piece of chocolate cake on a plate while sporting only a pair of pajama pants and nothing else. My eyes hungrily traced each chiseled muscle, from his arms and shoulders down to his abs. He had one arm and part of his right chest covered with black ink, and it looked like there was a spider tattoo on his hip, just peeking out from his pants.

Jesus Christ.

“Trouble sleeping?” I said as soon as he spotted me by the door.

“Yes. I was tired of tossing and turning when I remembered we hadn’t finished all the cake. Wanna have some? I can share,” he offered.

I made my way over to the kitchen island and perched myself on top of it. Zayn stood in front of me, setting his body between my legs. He grabbed a small piece of the cake and placed it between my lips. I took a bite, and a borderline sexual moan escaped my mouth.

“What is the verdict?” Zayn asked mischievously.

“Excellent.”

“I like your pajamas.”

“Thank you,” I replied. “I like your tattoos. What’s your favorite one?” My eyes roamed his chest and arm, studying every design. I quickly recognized the face of a wolf, a compass, and a human skull.

“This one,” he said, pointing at a tiny lion on his chest.

“Is that Simba from The Lion King?”

“Yes.” He laughed. “My dad used to call me ‘cub.’ He often said I had the fierceness of a lion.”

“I like it,” I replied, running my fingers along the lines of the tattoo. “Can I have more cake? I’m still hungry.”

Zayn licked his lips.

“Beg.”

“You’re delusional,” I answered. I reached out for a piece from the counter, but Zayn swiftly caught my hands and pinned them behind my back.

“I know how much you want it, but I want to hear you say it.”

“Please,” I said without breaking eye contact.

---