Chapter 5---Games and fun
Arielle's POV
“No,” Zane says.
Just one word. Deep, smooth, and certain.
I didn’t realize I’d been holding my breath until it rushes out of me in a quiet, shaky sigh. My heart’s still trying to find a normal rhythm, but there’s this unexplainable warmth blooming in my chest.
I try not to look too relieved—it would be obvious—but the corners of my lips are treacherous.
He catches it. I can feel the heat of his gaze on me even though I’m staring at my empty plate like it’s suddenly the most fascinating thing in the room. When I risk a glance, his eyes are steady, knowing. My pulse jumps again for an entirely different reason.
“Well,” Jack says, breaking the tension but staring at me like he knows. “that’s one mystery solved.”
“Shame." Mom comments. "Would’ve been nice to meet the woman who's managed steal your heart.”
“She doesn’t exist,” Zane says simply, leaning back in his chair. “And I'd like to keep it that way.”
Something in the way he says it makes me feel like it was somehow directed at me.
Breakfast goes on with light chatter. Meredith is telling mom about a TV show they both watch, Jack is making snarky remarks, and Zane—true to form—barely looks my way. Except for one moment.
I catch him mid-sip of coffee, his gaze meeting mine for half a second, warm and unreadable, before it slides back to his plate. That half-second feels like a whole paragraph of things I can’t quite read.
When the meal is over, everyone else drift away, but I linger in the kitchen, rinsing plates. The hum of conversation fades to just the sound of running water. I’m stacking dishes on the counter when I realize someone’s behind me.
I don’t even have to turn to know it’s him. His presence is… different. He’s tall enough that his shadow dips over mine.
“You missed one,” Zane says, his voice low. I glance over my shoulder, and there he is—closer than necessary, sleeves rolled to his veiny forearms, watching me with that maddening calm.
“It’s on the top shelf,” he adds whilst pointing at my father's mug. I hold back a groan threatening to escape my lips. My dad has a habit of dumping his dirty mug up on the shelf making it hard to reach.
We both know I'm too short to reach it, so he does so for me. But doesn’t just reach over me. No—he steps in, so close his chest brushes my head. My breath catches. His cologne is warm, smoky, the kind that sticks in your memory. His arm lifts easily, his hand taking the mug like he's done this a million times.
Smooth.
“You should use a stool,” he murmurs, his voice right at my ear. “Or ask for help.”
“I’m capable,” I manage, but my voice is thinner than I’d like.
“I know,” he says, almost like it’s a compliment.
And then he steps back, casual, like he didn’t just fry my nervous system.
When the rest of the family comes in, Zane wipes his hands on a towel. “By the way,” he says, like he’s announcing something trivial, “we’re taking the yacht out tomorrow. Whole day on the water.”
Jack nearly spills his beer. “The yacht? You’re actually going to let other people touch your precious toy?”
Zane smirks. “I might even let you steer it for five seconds. If you beg.”
Meredith grins. “I’m in. Sun, sea, and champagne? All in, baby.”
Jack claps his hands together. “This is going to be great." And I can tell he’s already mentally planning how to annoy everyone on board
Mom lights up. Dad merely chuckles as he refocuses his attention on the TV he's watching.
And me? I’m smiling, but inside I’m a bundle of nerves and excitement. A day on the yacht with Zane… great. Just great.
He might even take off his shirt. My pussy clenches at the idea.
•••••••••
That evening, after dinner, mom and dad retire to their room and Jack suggests a game in the lounge.
Something simple really—throwing little beanbags into a target board propped against the wall.
“Alright,” Jack declares, “Teams: me and Arielle against Uncle Zane and Meredith. Best two out of three. Losers do breakfast cleanup tomorrow.”
Disappointment immediately washes over me like cold ice but that doesn't last as Zane's voice cuts in--- calm. Certain.
"Arielle's with me." My breath catches in my throat. The way he says my name.
Meredith gives me a look and Jack raises an eyebrow. But they ultimately team up.
“Hope you like scrubbing,” Meredith teases.
I plant my feet next to Zane. “We’re winning this.”
" Sure.” he says quietly, and there’s a flicker of something in his eyes--- confidence.
The first round is pure chaos. Jack keeps trying to distract me with his bad jokes, Meredith pretends she’s a professional athlete, and Zane just stands there, calm and precise. When it’s his turn, he barely seems to try, yet every throw lands perfectly.
“Show-off,” Jack mutters.
I land a good shot, and Zane leans close enough for only me to hear. “Nice,” he murmurs and the sound has shivers running up my spine.
By the second round, the banter’s flying.
"No way this is fair.” Meredith says, gesturing at Zane. “The man’s a human sniper.”
“He’s on my team,” I say, grinning. “Complain all you want.”
We win the second round, forcing a tiebreaker. Jack ups his trash talk, Meredith’s competitive streak turns fierce, and I can feel Zane’s quiet intensity at my side. Every time our shoulders brush, it’s like electric sparks.
In the final throw, Zane steps up, nails it without hesitation, and the game is ours.
“guess who's scrubbing now, losers,” I call, triumphant.
Jack groans. Meredith laughs a hearty laugh like she had been the one to win.
I glance at Zane, expecting a smirk. Instead, I find
him watching me—not the scoreboard, not the others—me.
And just like that, I forget how to breathe again.