The Unwilling CEO’s Love Game

The maid had finished preparing dinner and had even simmered a rich, nourishing chicken soup.

Yasmine approached the sofa where Zachary lay sprawled out, seemingly asleep, and looked down at him from her lofty vantage.

She prodded his shoulder gently, "Tto wake up."

Zachary's eyes fluttered open and upon seeing her, he croaked, "Hey, babe."

His voice was hoarse with fatigue, and there was a touch of lazy charm to it.

At his endearment, Yasmine bristled, "Who's your babe? Stop with the pet names and get up. Dinner's ready. Eat and leave."

Zachary, startled by her sharp tone, eventually got to his feet, all too accustomed to her outbursts.

No sooner had he risen than his phone began to ring.

He answered the call without stepping away from Yasmine.

"Hello?"

"Zachary, where are you? Dinner's ready. When are you coming back?" The voice on the other end was Delphine, laced with

concern.

The manor was vast and quiet, allowing Delphine's words to clearly reach Yasmine's ears.

Yasmine pulled out a chair and sat down, ladling herself ssoup and starting to eat without waiting for Zachary.

Zachary switched to speakerphone and sat next to Yasmine, passing her the bowl as if to ask her to serve him ssoup.

Yasmine glared at him.

He quickly retracted his hand and served himself.

"Eat up yourself," he said, sipping his soup and watching her face for signs of irritation.

Yasmine was enjoying her meal too much to pay him any mind.

"Aren't you coming home?" Delphine's voice carried a note of disappointment, "You need to take your medication, remember?"

"I'll have someone pick it up in a bit," Zachary replied, as he attempted to put svegetables on Yasmine's plate, only to be met

with another glare. He quietly moved the veggies back to his side of the table.

"Where are you, Zachary?" Delphine pressed on, not quite ready to let go.

Zachary, free from any hint of impatience, answered, "At home."

"Home?" Delphine paused for a moment, "You mean at Yasmine's?"

Yasmine raised an eyebrow; this girl sure knew how to address people.

Zachary didn't bother to hide the truth, "Yeah."

Yasmine was inwardly shaking her head at Zachary's apparent heartlessness. The poor girl was waiting for him, and there he was,

indifferent, twisting the knife deeper.

Truly despicable.

"Alright then," Delphine conceded with maturity, dropping the subject.

"Yeah, have a good night," Zachary added before hanging up.

After the call, Yasmine looked at Zachary with a mocking gaze he was all too familiar with.

"Why is it that you seem to becmore of a jerk with age?" Yasmine couldn't help but probe into his emotional journey, "How can

you stand to leave that girl alone at home, pining away?"

Zachary placed a piece of roast chicken in her bowl, "Well, | can't very well leave you to pine away alone, can I?"

"Thanks a lot," Yasmine sneered, biting into the chicken before wiping her mouth with a napkin and pushing her chair back, "Enjoy

your meal."

"I'm staying over tonight," Zachary called after her retreating form.

Yasmine replied nonchalantly as she continued her nightly routine, "If you want to stay, it's not like | can kick you out."

Seeing her relent even slightly, Zachary's mood improved, and he grinned, "Thanks, babe."

"I'm your ex-wife!" Yasmine corrected him sharply.

Zachary wasn't interested in correcting himself.

He continued to enjoy his meal leisurely.

After dinner, Zachary lounged in the living room for a while until his medication was delivered. After taking his medicine, he

headed upstairs.

Reaching the master bedroom, he found the door locked from the inside.

"Yasmine, open up," he called, knocking on the door.

Inside, Yasmine was applying her night cream and ignored the persistent knocking.

The man outside was patient, his knocks gentle.

Annoyed by the disturbance, Yasmine approached the door, "Keep knocking, and I'll throw you out. Remember, this is my house. If

you don't leave, I'll accuse you of trespassing.”

Zachary leaned against the door, his voice tired, "Yasmine, letsleep inside."

"There are plenty of rooms and beds in this place. Can't you find somewhere else to sleep?" Yasmine refused to indulge his whims.

"But none of them have you."

Silence settled between them, his voice taking on an unreal quality through the door.

That sentence managed to stir something in Yasmine.

She swallowed hard but refused to yield, "Have someone drive you back."

"l won't."

"Zachary, have you no shame? A grown man shouldn't be so petulant. What are you playing at?" Yasmine was at her wit's end.

Outside, the knocking stopped.

Yasmine pressed her ear against the door, listening for his footsteps, but heard nothing.

She feared he was up to something, so she stubbornly kept the door closed.

After a long standoff, curiosity got the better of her, and she tentatively turned the doorknob.

Peering through the crack, she saw no one.

Relief and a twinge of disappointment sank in her chest for a moment.

Good riddance, she thought, now she could enjoy speace and quiet.

Just as she was about to close the door, a leg wedged itself into the gap, preventing her from shutting it.

Yasmine's gaze followed the leg up to Zachary's face, which carried a look of feigned pitifulness.

"Yasmine," he whispered softly, almost breathlessly, "letin."

Her heart warmed at the memory of such words, though they weren't spoken outside a door before.

"Don't push it," she warned, not moving aside or forcing the door shut, for fear of hurting him.

Zachary made a pitiful case, "I just want to cin and sleep."

"No way!"

"Then I'll sleep right here at the door," he continued his ploy.

"Fine by me. Now move your leg," Yasmine retorted, unyielding as ever.

Zachary was silent, and they were at an impasse.

Eventually, Zachary gave in, weakened by his recent illness and unable to sustain the standoff. As he withdrew his leg, Yasmine

opened the door.

They faced each other, Zachary with surprise and delight in his eyes, Yasmine with embarrassment and a hint of panic.

She stepped aside, allowing him to enter.

He naturally removed his coat, revealing the unflattering hospital garb underneath.

"Do | still have clothes here?" Zachary peeled off his shirt, revealing a patch of gauze taped over his chest.

Everywhere but that spot was a tapestry of scars, his badges of honor from years of rough living.

He wandered into the walk-in closet in search of something to wear, while Yasmine's eyes lingered on a particularly nasty scar

streaking across his back - a souvenir about twelve inches long. Each inch represented a year in their son Preston's life.

It was during the tshe was pregnant with Preston, lounging at hand watching TV, when Zachary's arch-nemesis decided to

settle a score. They took advantage of Zachary's absence and cknocking.

His guys had managed to hustle her out, but they were quickly pursued.

The meter-long machete was raised right in front of her eyes and about to fall when she was swept into a fierce embrace.

Zachary had wrapped her in his arms from behind, taking the brutal strike meant for her.

Even in that dire moment, he had managed to crack a grin and reassure her with a whispered, "Babe, it's gonna be alright."

The memories sent ripples through Yasmine's heart. This man had gambled with his life for her more than once. She couldn't

fathom how things had changed to this point.

Their lives had been improving, but it seemed as if they were drifting apart.

She yearned for tranquility, for him to step away from the edge. But perhaps the allure of fand fortune had its claws too deep

in him now.

Yasmine shook off the thoughts crowding her mind and fetched him a set of pajamas.

The only reason she let him in was because he was still recovering and wasn't up to his usual antics.

Zachary took the clothes and dressed, reading her cool demeanor and wisely keeping his distance.

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