Chapter eight: Confrontations

Liya stood frozen, her heart pounding in her chest as she met Zack De Rossoé’s intense gaze. “What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice flat and devoid of emotion. The sudden appearance of him in her carefully planned day felt like a disruption, a pebble thrown into the smooth surface of her life.

Zack smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Hello, Miss Smith. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I am a business partner of Mr. Jonas—Zack De Rossoé.” He spoke as if they were meeting for the first time, the air between them heavy with unspoken history.

Liya mentally took a deep breath, putting on her most effective mask—emotionless and detached. She couldn't let him see how much his presence affected her. “Okay,” she replied, her tone numb.

They both took their seats, the tension palpable as the waiter approached to take their order. “Good morning. What can I get for the two of you?” he asked, his eyes darting between them.

Liya opened her mouth to speak, but Zack beat her to it. “Two grilled sandwiches, one black coffee, no sugar, and one coffee latte.”

She looked at him, momentarily taken aback. The old memories flooded in, but she shook them off. “No. One grilled sandwich, one black coffee for this gentleman, and one avocado grape salad, one large iced lemon tea for me,” she stated, keeping her gaze fixed on Zack, forcing a smile that felt more like a barbed wire than warmth.

Zack’s brow furrowed in confusion. “But you liked coffee latte,” he said, a hint of disbelief in his voice.

“People change, so do their tastes and preferences,” Liya replied, her expression stoic. The irony of his words stung; she was living proof of that.

They ate in silence, the only sounds the clinking of cutlery and the distant hum of the café. Liya finally broke the tension. “Mr. De Rossoé, the collaboration between your company and Mr. Jonas’s will focus on summer clothes. Your company is known for its vibrant colors, and I’d like our designers to work together on this project. Let’s form mixed teams and see what they can create. Details will be sent to both your and Mr. Jonas’s secretaries for further discussion in tomorrow's meeting.”

“It was a pleasure meeting you,” she added, standing up with a professional smile.

Zack leaned back, studying her. “You’ve worked hard, I can see. I never knew all these years that you were the CEO of SL.”

Liya’s smile faded. “I don’t recall that I’m answerable to you,” she replied, her voice icy.

The waiter approached. “Sir, the bill,” he said, his eyes darting nervously between them.

Liya took her card and handed it to the waiter, feeling Zack’s eyes drilling into her with an intensity that made her skin crawl. She turned to leave, eager to escape the charged atmosphere.

But as she reached the door, Zack’s voice stopped her. “Stop. You’re not leaving right now.” He stepped forwardLiya’s pulse quickened as Zack’s fingers closed around her wrist, pulling her back from the door. “Stop. You’re not leaving right now,” he said, his voice a low command that sent a shiver down her spine. “You can’t leave until I say you can.”

Her heart raced, a mix of anger and confusion swirling within her. “Let go of me, Zack,” she demanded, meeting his intense gaze with defiance. How dare he assume he could dictate her actions? The heat of the moment enveloped them, thick with unresolved tension.

He didn’t release her, instead stepping closer, his eyes searching hers. “Why are you avoiding me, Liya? We have a lot to discuss.”

“Discuss?” she shot back, frustration bubbling to the surface. “This is business, nothing more. Keep it that way.” But even as the words left her lips, she felt a crack in her armor. The memories of their shared past surged up—laughter, late-night conversations, the bittersweet taste of what could have been.

Zack’s expression shifted, vulnerability creeping in as he softened his grip, his thumb brushing against her skin. “Is it just business?” His voice was lower now, almost hesitant, as if he were reaching for something deeper. “Or is there something more?”

Liya felt a rush of emotions, the walls she’d built around her heart beginning to crumble. She wanted to scream, to push him away, but part of her longed for connection. “Let go of my wrist,” she repeated, though this time, the demand felt less forceful, laced with uncertainty. “I have a life outside of this meeting, and I’m done with whatever this is.”

He finally released her, but the intensity in the air only thickened. Liya stepped back, her breath coming in quick bursts, her heart in turmoil. She could see the hurt in his eyes, the understanding of a shared history that neither could ignore.

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