THE WEIGHT OF POWER

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Chapter 31 – The Weight of Power

Zane barely slept.

He told himself it was because of the deal with Lancaster. Because of the chaos they were about to unleash. Because the business world was a battlefield, and he had always thrived in the fight.

But that was a lie.

Because the real reason he was still wide awake at 3 AM, staring at the ceiling of his penthouse, was Vincent.

The way Vincent had looked at him tonight. The way he hadn't stepped back. The way something—something—had shifted between them.

It was dangerous.

It was distracting.

And yet, Zane couldn't ignore the sharp thrill that ran through him every time he thought about it.

With a frustrated sigh, he pushed himself out of bed, slipping on a silk robe as he walked to the balcony. The city stretched before him, glittering and endless, but his mind was still stuck on the way Vincent had stared at him like he was an equation he couldn't quite solve.

The worst part?

Zane wanted him to try.

He exhaled, rubbing a hand through his hair. Get it together, Harrington.

His phone buzzed on the railing.

He glanced at the screen.

Vincent.

Zane smirked. Speak of the devil.

He answered, keeping his tone light. "Couldn't sleep without me, Graves?"

Vincent's voice was as cold and controlled as ever, but there was something underneath it. Something tight. "Come over."

Zane raised a brow. "What, no please?"

"Now, Zane."

Zane hesitated. Just for a second.

Then he grabbed his keys and left.

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Vincent's Penthouse – 3:30 AM

Vincent was waiting when Zane arrived.

He stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, arms crossed, his silhouette sharp against the city skyline. There was no drink in his hand this time. No carefully controlled mask of indifference.

Just tension.

Pure, simmering tension.

Zane stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. "What's with the midnight summons?"

Vincent didn't turn. "Lancaster's moving."

Zane blinked. "Already?"

Vincent nodded, finally facing him. "I got a tip-off. He's trying to cut us off before we make our move."

Zane exhaled a laugh. "Well, damn. Guess he's not as patient as we thought."

Vincent's gaze was sharp. "This is serious, Zane."

"I know." Zane walked to the bar, pouring himself a drink. He turned back to Vincent, swirling the glass. "So what's the plan, boss?"

Vincent's jaw tightened at the teasing tone, but he didn't take the bait. "We strike first. Before he has a chance to pull the rug out from under us."

Zane smirked. "Now you're speaking my language."

Vincent stepped closer, and suddenly, the air in the room shifted.

It wasn't just about Lancaster anymore.

It wasn't just business.

Zane felt it the second Vincent invaded his space, his presence all-consuming.

For once, Zane didn't have a quip ready.

He just looked at Vincent, meeting his gaze head-on. "Something on your mind, Graves?"

Vincent's voice was lower now. "You know what."

Zane tilted his head, searching Vincent's face. For hesitation. For restraint. For anything that would tell him Vincent was about to pull away.

But he didn't.

And Zane?

He wasn't the type to hesitate.

So when he reached out—slowly, deliberately—and let his fingers brush against Vincent's wrist, he wasn't surprised when Vincent didn't stop him.

Didn't move away.

Didn't breathe.

Zane's smirk softened, but his voice still held its usual playfulness. "You really should be more careful, Graves."

Vincent exhaled, low and sharp. "Why?"

Zane leaned in just slightly, enough to make his point. "Because you're playing a dangerous game."

Vincent's lips parted, just a fraction. "And you?"

Zane grinned, stepping back first—because this time, he wanted Vincent to feel the absence.

"Me?" He downed the rest of his drink, setting the glass on the bar. "I never lose."

Vincent watched him, expression unreadable.

But Zane could see it now.

The crack in the armor.

The storm beneath the surface.

And he knew—knew—that whatever was between them had just crossed a line.

One they could never uncross.

And he loved it.

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End of Chapter 31.