Chapter 7 Unexpected call

Zenab was done with him. Done with his nonsense. 

"Zenab..." Dave began, but she cut him off again.

"Get the hell out, Dave. You told me to leave your space, and I did. Now I expect the same from you. We no longer mean anything to each other, and it will stay that way. Leave before I call the cops." Her voice rose in volume, her claws digging into her palms.

This was her usual response when anger coursed through her veins, threatening to unleash a primal rage that could lead to violence. The pain helped ground her, anchoring her emotions when everything felt out of control.

She recognized the symptoms radiating within her: the constant fury, the pervasive sense of losing control, and the insatiable thirst for blood. Zenab was always on the brink of snapping. 

This was the reality she found herself in—reduced to inflicting pain on her own palm to maintain her grip on sanity.

"What happened to you?" Dave asked, his voice soft and laced with concern, as if he couldn't understand her turmoil.

What a jerk.

Sighing, she responded, "You did. You and Miles caused this... Now leave, before I do something I'll regret."

He regarded her one last time. "This isn't over," he said before exiting.

Once he was gone, Zenab sank into her chair, staring blankly at the wall, unsure of how much time had passed when her phone rang, disrupting her trance.

"I honestly didn't think you had it in you," a deep voice said, its huskiness sending shivers down her spine.

"Who is this?" she asked, although she already suspected the answer. She played coy to mask her surprise.

"You know who it is, Red. Playing dumb doesn't suit you."

'Shit! I had been caught. How embarrassing.'

"What can I do for you, Mr. Ford?" she finally asked.

She was curious about why he was calling; there was something about him that intrigued her.

Nobody knew exactly what transpired between him and Miles, only that he had been the one to file for separation.

"Just Sander," he replied, adopting a commanding tone that made her roll her eyes.

"What can I do for you, Sander?"

"It's more about what we can do for each other," he stated, as if it were self-evident.

Zenab's interest piqued. Even Red chimed in, eager to understand his intentions. She couldn't fathom what they could possibly do for one another, nor was she sure if she wanted to entangle herself with such a powerful figure. The energy he exuded during their last encounter had been both captivating and intimidating.

Yet, curiosity triumphed over her hesitation. 

"I'm listening."

Just when she thought he would explain himself, he took her by surprise with his alpha male demeanor, which struck her as both annoying and compelling.

"Meet me at Rosevelt tomorrow at two. I have a proposition for you." His voice was raspy, and he hung up before she could respond.

.........

Two days after.

"That's not going to work," Zenab asserted firmly to the man in front of her.

"It's the best we can offer you, Miss Moore," he replied almost arrogantly.

Zenab had been in this meeting room for about two hours, and progress was nonexistent. Her patience was wearing thin.

She fixed her gaze on Wilson, the vice president of Majesty Ltd., a textile company that Jaymie wanted them to partner with.

'He's trying to rip us off,' Red grumbled, irritation seeping into her tone.

Zenab had already deduced this. There was something about the way Wilson looked at her, as if he viewed her as inferior—someone unworthy of leading a successful company, as if she were somehow foolish and he had no qualms about overpricing their services.

She sensed that he was the type of man raised to believe women should worship the ground they walked on; that women couldn't lead, nor could they achieve success on their own. In his eyes, a woman's sole purpose was to serve men and raise children, to be seen and never heard.

She despised those stereotypes. She loathed men who condescended to women. Zenab had no idea why Jaymie had chosen him, but she was done tolerating his nonsense.

Standing up from her seat, she declared, "Then we're done here."

She refused to waste any more of her time. She could find a better company, plus she saw no issue with the textile company they were currently working with.

"Wait, Miss Moore. I'm sure we can negotiate a better deal," he said, a slimy smile spreading across his face.

He truly believed she was naive. Zenab could see right through that disingenuous smile and understood the motives lurking behind it, which she found deeply unsettling.

"You've already wasted enough of my time."

Without giving him another glance, she left the room. She heard him call her name, but she ignored him as she stepped into the elevator. Minutes later, she exited the building and headed toward her car.

She reached her vehicle and was about to unlock it when a handkerchief suddenly covered her nose. Before she could react, everything turned black.

When she regained consciousness, the sound of a car engine filled her ears. Disoriented, she quickly realized what had happened—she had been kidnapped.

"You're awake," a deep voice said.

Zenab froze; she recognized that voice. Her suspicion was confirmed when she looked up into cold green eyes.

There was a complete lack of emotion in his gaze, a blank stare that she hated because it offered no insight into his thoughts.

"I don't like being made a fool of. When I tell you to meet at Roosevelt, I expect you to be there."

A hint of danger laced his tone, something that should have frightened her. Yet, for some reason, she felt no fear.

"That's exactly it; you told me instead of asking," she replied defiantly. "I'm not good at being told what to do."

As you might have guessed, she hadn't gone to meet Sander; that had been two days ago. She had decided it would be more trouble than it was worth to get involved with a powerhouse like him.

She harbored skepticism, and rightly so. Her previous entanglement with an alpha had ended disastrously. She had no clue what Sander's proposal would entail, but she was certain she didn't want to find out.

"And I'm not good at letting such defiance go. You should know that about me. You push me, and I'll push back; trust me, you won't like it when I retaliate," he said, his voice smooth as silk, eyes as cold as ice.