Zayne’s POV
The scent of roses clung to my fingers long after I sent them away.
It was ridiculous, really.
A grown man… pacing his hotel suite like a caged animal because of flowers. Because of one woman. Because of the possibility that she might still be angry enough to send them back.
I dragged a hand through my hair and checked my phone again. Nothing. The silence from Isla… felt worse than any insult she could’ve thrown at me.
I exhaled sharply and moved toward the floor-to-ceiling window, staring out at the evening lights stretching across the city. The skyline blurred as my thoughts spiraled back to her face earlier… the way her eyes softened for just a fraction of a second before she masked it with that infuriating composure she wore when she was hurt.
I hated that I knew her
