“Excuse me,” I grunt and walk out of the kitchen, headed straight toward the outdoor kitchen.
I see him as soon as I step outside—knife in hand.
Zed’s standing at the outdoor counter, slicing through vegetables, calm and dead silent. He’s got this way of existing like the air bends around him. And I should know better. I do know better.
But I’m done knowing better. Because every time I look at Melody, all I can hear is“He might stay quiet if we invite him to join us next time.”
I shove open the sliding glass door and it bangs shut behind me as I storm up to the behemoth of a dude.
Zed doesn’t flinch.
“Need something?” He slices through a red pepper—slow and precise, like a surgeon.
His tone is casual.
“I’m gonna say this once,” I snap, voice quiet as I grab a mushroom and start slicing it next to him. “Stay the fuck away from her.”
He pauses just long enough to let the silence cut and looks at me.
“Which her?” His eyes are vacant and cold, yet… deeply unsettling.
“Don’t play with me,” I grit out, chopping the mushroom unevenly.
“I’m not.” His gaze drops to the cutting board. “You’re worked up.” His blade hits the wood with soft, rhythmic clicks.
“You think this is funny?” I bite out, grabbing a zucchini.
“I think you’re dangerously close to ruining dinner.”
“And you’re dangerously close to a trip to the ICU,” I growl.
“Not interested.” Zed’s eyes flick up—amused. “In her, that is. But a trip to the ICU sounds interesting.”
The knife moves in his hand like it’s part of his arm while I look like I’m trying to mince the vegetables with a vengeance.
“I have a knife,” I say flatly.
“So do I,” he says flatly. “Suggesting a sword fight?”
“I’m suggesting you stop talking to Melody.”
Zed sighs through his nose like I’m exhausting him. He stops cutting and turns fully toward me, wiping the knife clean with a paper towel.
“You know,” he says conversationally, “if I can get you this worked up over her, imagine what Dominic would do once he finds out.”
My jaw ticks.
“You gonna bribe me with a threesome to shut up too?” I snap, keeping my voice hushed.
“Tempting,” he says, slipping the towel onto the counter. “With all that rage in you, we’d make a great team.” His eyes cut to mine, sharp and slow like the knife he’s holding. “Head or tail?”
My blood roars.
I can stab him. I can stab him right now and throw his body into the ocean for the fish to feast on.
And the fact that he’s calm makes this even fucking worse.
If I swing at him first, they’ll start asking questions.
