Zavian's lips twitched into that infuriating smirk again, the kind that made me want to throw my drink at him. "What can I say? I'm good at keeping track of things," he replied casually, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. His tone was playful, but there was something beneath it—something that made me feel both irritated and... oddly intrigued.

"Stalking. Same thing, Zavian Noraiz," I shot back, narrowing my eyes at him.

He raised an eyebrow, his gaze never leaving mine. "Stalking? You make it sound so dramatic. I prefer to call it... interest," he said, voice dripping with that effortless cockiness that made me want to scream in frustration.

Aisha's lips twitched, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth, as if she were watching a live performance. "That's one way to put it..." she muttered, but the glint in her eyes suggested she was all for the drama unfolding in front of her.

I crossed my arms, refusing to let him get under my skin. "So, what? You've been keeping tabs on me since London?" I asked, trying to sound indifferent, but the reality of it all was starting to sink in. Why was he even here? What did he want?

Zavian chuckled, his voice low, as he leaned back in his chair, looking entirely too comfortable. "Keeping tabs sounds so... aggressive. Let's just say I know how to keep an eye on the people who pique my interest," he said, that same dark glimmer in his eyes, like he was savoring every moment of this.

I rolled my eyes, suddenly feeling a surge of annoyance. "Pique your interest, huh?" I mimicked. "Well, you've got me so intrigued now, Zavian. What's your next move? Following me around the world? Sending me roses?"

He leaned in just slightly, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Maybe," he said, voice soft but intense. "Would you like that?"

I couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up, though it was a little forced. "I think I'd prefer you stay out of my business, interest or not," I shot back, but the words felt a little weaker than I intended. Because, deep down, part of me wondered what it would be like if Zavian actually did get closer, if that smirk was a little more real and a little less infuriating.

But no. I wasn't about to let him win.

Aisha, noticing the tension, leaned forward, her eyes wide with amusement. "You two are so entertaining," she commented, making the air between us feel even more charged.

Zavian didn't break eye contact with me. "Good thing I'm here to entertain you then," he said smoothly, his lips curling up into that devil-may-care smirk of his.

I fought the urge to roll my eyes. "Please, you're not that entertaining," I muttered under my breath.

Zavian's eyes glinted with something dangerous, like he was waiting for me to break. But I wasn't going to let him have the last word.

Not yet, anyway.

I leaned back in my chair, forcing a nonchalant look as I dropped the bomb. "You act like an over-possessive big brother," I murmured, intentionally stressing the big brother part, watching his reaction closely.

His eyes darkened for a split second, a flicker of something dangerous flashing behind his usual cocky facade. It didn't escape me, and I couldn't suppress a small, satisfied smirk. Looks like I had struck a nerve.

He exhaled slowly, his lips curling into that infuriating, devil-may-care smirk. But this time, I saw through it. The tension in the air thickened, wrapping around us like a rope tightening with every word.

"Big brother, huh?" His voice was deceptively calm, but the underlying sharpness was undeniable. "You think I came all the way here just to listen to you call me an over-possessive big brother?" He leaned in just slightly, his gaze intense, each word cutting through the space between us. "Let me make one thing clear, Mashal-e-Mehtaab... I'm not your brother."

The weight of his words hung in the air like a challenge, something dark and unspoken. My heart skipped a beat, and despite myself, I felt that little spark of fear flicker at the back of my mind. This wasn't a joke. It wasn't playful teasing. This was a warning, and he knew exactly what he was doing.

I swallowed hard, my mind racing as I tried to compose myself, the playful mask I had been wearing slipping ever so slightly.

"Then?" he repeated, his voice low and dangerous, sending a shiver down my spine. He leaned in just enough for me to feel his breath, warm and steady against my ear. "Then, you're gonna have to figure that out for yourself, Mashal-e-Mehtaab."

His words hung in the air like a challenge, that dark edge to his tone making it clear he wasn't just talking about the present moment. Every inch of him radiated a kind of dangerous allure, something that both terrified and intrigued me.

"You're not as innocent as you think," he added with a smirk that made my heart race.

"Oh, Lily," Aisha said suddenly, snapping me out of my trance. I blinked, realizing I was still sitting there, staring at Zavian. My eyes shifted to the woman she was waving at—a familiar face from our research group. But as soon as I turned back to Zavian, I froze. His gaze was still fixed on me, intense and unyielding. No trace of amusement, just that silent, dangerous seriousness that made my heart beat a little faster than usual.

A chill ran down my spine, and I swallowed hard, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

Aisha, oblivious to my discomfort, got up with a teasing smile. "Iman, I'll come back with Lily. You can go with Zavian," she said, practically pushing me toward him with her eyes.

"What? No—" I blurted, my face flaming up as I tried to protest, but before I could finish, she was already walking away, leaving me alone with him.

My heart skipped a beat. Great. Just great.

I watched Aisha walk off, my heart racing, feeling like I was being thrown into a pit of uncertainty. I turned back to Zavian, trying to keep my cool, but the tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife.

Zavian leaned back in his chair, his eyes locking onto mine like he was reading every unspoken thought in my head. That infuriatingly cocky grin stretched across his face again. "Looks like we're alone now," he said, voice smooth, the kind of tone that made everything feel a little too intense.

I shifted, trying to hide the way my heart was racing. "Yeah?" I muttered, though my voice didn't sound as steady as I wanted it to.

Zavian's low chuckle rumbled through the air. "I think you're done here." He stood up, his movements slow, deliberate. "Get up. Reaper missed you."

I blinked, confusion flickering in my eyes as I stood up, pushing my chair back. "Reaper?" I muttered under my breath, unsure of what he meant, but I didn't get a chance to ask more. Zavian was already striding toward the door, and I had no choice but to follow him.

The chilly night air hit me as we stepped outside, and I looked around, wondering if maybe we were walking to a car. But then my eyes landed on it.

The sleek, menacing black bike parked right in front of the restaurant.

My breath hitched as I finally understood what "Reaper" truly meant. The bike was a beast—tall, dark, and gleaming with power, like it was daring the road to challenge it. It looked like it could eat up miles of asphalt without even breaking a sweat, and I couldn't help but feel a little overwhelmed by its sheer presence.

I froze for a second, staring at it. There was no way in hell I was getting on that. Not after everything that had happened the last time. But before I could back out, Zavian was already heading toward it, his long strides confident and sure. He glanced over his shoulder at me, his smirk only growing.

"Afraid, Mashal-e-Mehtaab?" he teased, his voice rich with amusement, a challenge lingering in his words.

My stomach tightened, my irritation bubbling over. "You just did not," I said, crossing my arms. "I don't want to sit on this... with you." The words slipped out before I could stop them, but the flashback of the last ride, how I had barely survived it, made me shudder.

Zavian chuckled darkly, that smug grin never leaving his face. He walked back toward me, and I took a small step back, but he closed the gap in seconds, towering over me with that predatory gaze.

"Come on, it's not that bad. Unless..." His eyes flickered over me, sizing me up like he could read me better than anyone. "You can't handle it. Is that it?"

I rolled my eyes, my annoyance growing. "I just don't want to die today, Zavian," I muttered under my breath, but he caught it.

He leaned in slightly, his breath warm against my ear, "You think I'd let anything happen to you?"

The way he said it—so sure, so dangerously confident—made my heart race, and I felt a strange mix of trust and fear. I bit my lip, trying to steady myself.

"You are the one who keeps putting me in danger, though," I shot back, trying to sound casual despite the rising tension in the air between us.

His smirk deepened, clearly enjoying my frustration more than he should have. "Get on, Mashal-e-Mehtaab. I'm not waiting all night."

I took a slow, steady breath, trying to gather what little patience I had left. I shot one last reluctant glance at the intimidating machine, then, with a sigh, I stepped forward. Zavian didn't hesitate, immediately stepping in to help me with the helmet, his fingers brushing against my skin in a way that made my heart skip a beat.

"Hold still," he muttered, his voice low, as he adjusted the straps.

I did, not trusting myself to speak. His proximity was a dangerous thing, and I had to force myself to breathe normally. Every time he touched me, that damned smirk on his face seemed to grow wider, like he knew exactly the effect he had on me.

"Comfortable?" he asked, his gaze flicking over my face, clearly amused at my discomfort.

I didn't trust myself to respond with anything more than a brief nod, my stomach doing flips as I reluctantly climbed onto the bike.

I fisted the fabric of his shirt, gripping it tightly, my knuckles white from the force. No way in hell was I going to let myself fall into whatever game he was trying to play.

"You're not getting away with this," I muttered under my breath, not meeting his eyes as I pulled myself up onto the bike, positioning myself as far away from him as possible.

Zavian, of course, noticed the way I tried to keep distance. His lips curled into that infuriatingly knowing smirk.

"Afraid I'll bite, Mashal-e-Mehtaab?" he teased, the sound of his voice far too smooth.

I didn't answer. Instead, I shifted uncomfortably, eyes narrowing as I tried to steady myself. Zavian was already starting the bike, the roar of the engine making the ground beneath me tremble.

"Hold on tight," he murmured, his tone shifting ever so slightly, like the challenge was over and something else had taken its place.

I refused to let myself react. My hands gripped the sides of the bike—anything but touching him. This was going to be a long ride.

This time, he didn't take it slow. Zavian revved the engine, and before I could even brace myself, the bike shot forward like a beast unleashed.

I yelped, the wind whipping past me so fast it almost took my breath away. My hands instinctively shot out to grip something—anything—to steady myself. And, of course, it ended up being him. My fingers dug into his shirt, my chest pressed against his back as I tried to hold on, the only place I could to avoid falling off.

Zavian chuckled darkly, his laughter vibrating through me. "There you go," he teased, voice smooth but with an edge, "thought you could stay cool, huh?"

I shot him a glare, though I knew he couldn't see it. "You bastard," I muttered, trying to keep my voice steady, but my pulse was racing—partly from the speed, partly from being so close to him.

He didn't slow down, if anything, he pushed the bike harder. The city lights blurred as we weaved through traffic, and with every sharp turn, my grip on him tightened. The air felt colder, my body pressed so close to his warmth, I almost forgot how annoyed I was.

But then, his voice broke through the rush of wind. "You're gripping me a little tight, Mashal-e-Mehtaab," he murmured, that familiar teasing lilt back in his voice.

I bit back a groan, knowing full well that if I responded, it would only fuel his ego. He was enjoying this far too much.

He drove like a beast, and I thought I'd seen it all—until I was wrong. Zavian leaned down, shifting his weight, and my eyes widened in horror.

"Oh, shit," I whispered under my breath as the bike surged forward, picking up speed at a terrifying rate. The wind blasted through me, and I could feel my heart in my throat. I clung to him harder, but it felt like my whole body was being pulled along with the bike as it tore down the road.

The world blurred around us—lights, buildings, everything spinning in a dizzying rush. It was like Zavian was trying to prove something, to show me just how far he could push. I could barely catch my breath, every curve and twist in the road making my stomach flip as I gripped his shirt even tighter.

"You're insane," I gasped, my voice almost lost in the wind.

His chuckle was low, dark, and dangerous. "You haven't seen anything yet, Mashal-e-Mehtaab."