Zoya walks past it and sits two chairs away instead. My jaw tightens, but I don’t comment, just moving to the chair beside her new position. Staff appears with breakfast, and she immediately pulls out her phone, grabbing an apple and taking a loud crunching bite while she scrolls.
I watch her ignore me completely as I reach for the toast, placing a piece on her plate and adding a side of eggs. “Put some peanut butter on it,” she demands, still not looking up as she crunches her apple louder.
Strange.
I arch my brows. “You want both?”
“Mm-hmm,” she says, scrolling away, still ignoring me.
It’s a strange combination, but I do it anyway, spreading peanut butter over the eggs and toast as I cut it into neat squares. I slide the plate closer as she picks up a square, eating even while she stays absorbed in her phone.
“Thanks,” she mutters, but she might as well be talking to something on her phone. I pour juice into her glass and set it within reach.
Zoya’s completely absorbed in whatever she’s reading, the apple crunching loudly between bites of the peanut butter-eggcombination. She won’t give me a single glance, her indifference growing more maddening by the second.
“What are you reading?”
“News,” she says curtly.
Silence stretches between us as she keeps scrolling. I try again. “Zoya.”
“Hmm?” she quips, still not looking up.
“Put the phone down. I’m trying to have a conversation.”
“I can do both,” she says absentmindedly.
My hand tightens on my coffee cup as the frustration builds. “We’re going shopping today,” I state, watching for any sign of a reaction.
“Okay.” Crunch.
“For dresses. There’s a gala next week.” I wait for the words to sink in.
“Mm-hmm,” she says, still reading whatever is on that damn phone.
“You’ll be attending with me.” I lean in closer. “As my fiancée.”
Her head snaps up in that split second, the phone finally forgotten. Finally! “What did you say?”
“Fiancée. Soon to be wife.” I keep my voice level, stating it as an absolute. “The entire city needs to see you with me. They need to understand that you’re mine.”
She sets her phone down, her eyes narrowing as she asks, “So I’m a decoration? A trophy you parade around?”
“You’re my future wife.” My voice hardens. “And yes, you will be seen with me. It’s not negotiable.”
She picks her phone back up. “Fine. I’ll play dress-up for your event,” Zoya says, going right back to scrolling. “As long as I can get back to my work after.”
“What work?” I narrow my gaze, certain I’ll hate where this is headed.
She gives me a sharp look, swallowing once before answering. “My OnlyFans and my articles,” she answers with a slight chide in her tone. “I'm still doing the same thing I've always done, which is exposing criminals like you.”
And then, Zoya just goes back to her phone, her thumb tapping the glass as she tries to click something open, while I just stare. A frown pulls at her lips. She tries again. I watch her realize. Confusion turns to understanding, then fury. “What…” She tries another app. Then another. “What the fuck?” Her eyes snap to mine. “What did you do to my accounts?”
“What needed to be done,” I retort with a satisfied smirk.
She stands so fast her chair scrapes backward. “You shut down my accounts.”
“Yes.”