When the car finally stopped in front of the house, Lena exhaled softly, bracing herself for the return to routine, when Zayn spoke.
“Before we go inside,” he said evenly, unbuckling his seatbelt, “there’s someone I want you to meet.”
She turned to him, confused. “Someone?”
“Yes.”
The way he said it—calm, firm, final—made her stomach tighten.
They stepped out of the car, and that was when she saw him.
The man standing a few feet away looked less like someone waiting for an introduction and more like a force of nature that had decided, briefly, to stand still.
He was tall—no, massive—broad shoulders stretching the fabric of his dark jacket, posture straight, unyielding. His presence alone seemed to alter the air around him. One look was enough to know this wasn’t a man you argued wi
