Fake Dating 51

Chapter 51 

The sound cuts through the room. Again. I can already feel a headache coming. Hopefully, the intruder will realise they’re really not wanted and turn back around or whatever. 

I sigh. “How about you go wash up? I’ll get the door.” 

She nods, looking almost relieved that she doesn’t have to face anyone. My chest squeezes at the defeated expression on her face, the way her shoulders slump as she turns away. I watch her disappear into the bathroom, the door click- ing shut behind her, before heading to the entrance. 

Knock, Knock, Knock. 

Jesus Christ. Has whoever’s on the other side never heard of patience? 

I yank the door open, irritation sparking hot in my veins. “Will you stop already? The fuck is your prob-” 

My words die in my throat. 

My mood sours so fast I barely hold back a scowl. My grip on the doorknob tightens, every instinct screaming to slam it shut in his stupid, smug face. 

But I don’t. 

Because as much as it kills me- 

This is his wedding cruise, after all. 

For whatever reason, Zane seems genuinely surprised by my being here and that fuels my annoyance even more. “What are you doing here?” 

My brain bursts into a billion little pieces. 

What am I-her boyfriend (fake, sure, but still boyfriend), the guy literally sharing this suite with her-doing here? 

He’s got to be joking. 

I cross my arms and step out into the hallway, shutting the door firmly behind me. No way in hell am I letting him catch even a glimpse of her. 

After everything he’s done? He doesn’t deserve to breathe the same air she does. And if I’m being honest, I’d be more than happy to arrange for him not breathing at all. 

“I’m in my suite. With my girlfriend.” I don’t bother hiding the edge in my voice, the quiet dare in my tone. “What do you mean, what am I doing here?” 

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Zane’s jaw tightens. A dark look flickers across his face. “You can’t really-” 

I raise an eyebrow, daring him to finish that sentence. Go on. Try me. “I can’t really what?” 

His fists clench at his sides. Then, slowly, he exhales, flexing his fingers as if trying to shake off whatever he really wants to say. That unreadable expression settles back over his features, and I swear it pisses me off even more.. 

He shakes his head. “Where’s Emilia? I need to talk to her.” 

Like hell you do. 

“Yeah, but I’m pretty sure she doesn’t want to see you. You’re not exactly her favourite person in the world.” 

His lips twist into something that isn’t quite a smirk but isn’t far from it either. “That doesn’t matter,” he says smooth- ly. “She needs me. So you can go ahead and tell her to drop whatever it is she thinks she’s doing. This is more impor- tant.” 

I nearly laugh. More important? 

I take a slow step forward, just enough to invade his space, just enough to make him feel the irritation rolling off me in waves. “You really think you can still snap your fingers and she’ll come running, huh?” I tilt my head, studying him. “That’s cute.” 

Zane’s jaw tics, but he keeps his composure. Of course he does. That’s his thing, isn’t it? Always in control. Always acting like he’s two steps ahead of everyone else, like he’s not completely unraveling at the thought of Emilia slipping through his fingers. 

And that’s what’s happening, isn’t it? 

He hates it. 

I see the way his eyes flicker, the way he sizes me up-not just as competition, but as something more. Something he wants to be. 

Because Zane worships me. 

He always has. 

It’s in the way he watches me, the way he tries to mimic the way I move, both on and off ice, the way he hangs onto my words like they’re gospel. He doesn’t just hate that Emilia’s with me—he hates that I’m the one person he’ll never be. 

And God, that must drive him insane. 

“Listen, Calloway, I respect you, we both know that, but it’ll be best if you stay away from this. Stay away from Emil- ia.” 

I dart out my tongue, and it slides against my lower lip. Zane’s eyes follow the movement and I always snort. Fucking loser. 

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FOD TYUJUSTITS 

“Stay away from her? She’s mine, Whitmoore.” We’re practically face-to-face now. “It’s my job to protect my wom- an,” something amusing crosses my mind and I shake my head. “Does your wife-to-be know you’re here?” 

He flexes his fingers. “What I do is none of her concern.” I raise a single brow. Really? “But she’ll understand. Emilia will never survive this without me. I’m simply doing her a favour.” 

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