BREAKING THE RULES

Chapter 33 – Breaking the Rules

Zane didn't sleep that night.

Not because of Lancaster.

Not because of the deal.

But because of him.

Vincent Graves.

The man who thrived on control. The man who refused to acknowledge the thing simmering between them.

Zane wasn't stupid—he knew what this was.

It was a line.

A line they kept toeing but never crossing.

And maybe it was fun at first. A game. A power play between two men who never let anyone get too close.

But now?

Now, it was dangerous.

And Zane had never been one to play it safe.

With a sigh, he rolled out of bed, running a hand through his hair. The city was still alive outside his window, the distant hum of traffic filling the air. He checked the time—4:17 AM.

Too early.

Or maybe too late.

He grabbed his phone, debating whether or not to text Vincent.

What would he even say?

Couldn't sleep. You thinking about me too?

Zane smirked to himself. Yeah, that would go over well.

Instead, he tossed his phone aside and grabbed a drink. He wasn't going to let this mess with his head.

Except it already was.

And the worst part?

He knew it was messing with Vincent's head too.

---

Vincent's Penthouse – 6:00 AM

Vincent didn't sleep either.

But that wasn't new.

Sleep was a luxury, and Vincent Graves didn't indulge in luxuries.

Not when there was always another deal to make, another move to calculate.

But tonight, it wasn't business that kept him awake.

It was Zane.

The way he pushed. The way he knew—knew exactly what buttons to press, what words to say, what lines to dance on.

Vincent was good at control.

Zane was good at breaking it.

And the worst part?

Vincent let him.

He exhaled sharply, gripping his glass too tightly.

This isn't supposed to happen.

But it was happening anyway.

A knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts.

He already knew who it was.

Still, he took his time walking over, his movements slow, measured. When he finally opened the door, Zane stood there, hands in his pockets, looking as infuriatingly smug as ever.

Vincent arched a brow. "Couldn't stay away?"

Zane smirked. "Miss me?"

Vincent didn't dignify that with a response. Instead, he stepped aside, letting Zane in.

Zane strolled past him, making himself comfortable like he owned the place. "So," he said, plopping down on the couch, "we gonna talk about it?"

Vincent closed the door. "About what?"

Zane shot him a look. "You know what."

Vincent sighed, crossing his arms. "We have a deal to close. That's the only thing that matters."

Zane hummed. "Right. Because you never let anything distract you."

Vincent's jaw tightened. "I don't."

Zane grinned, leaning back. "Liar."

Vincent took a step forward, his patience thinning. "Zane—"

Zane cut him off, his voice softer this time. "Why do you fight it so much?"

Vincent didn't answer.

Didn't move.

Because if he did—if he acknowledged this, if he let himself go for even a second—he wasn't sure he could stop.

Zane watched him carefully, his gaze sharp but not unkind. "It's not weakness, you know."

Vincent exhaled. "It is."

Zane frowned. "You really believe that?"

Vincent didn't reply.

Because if he did, he'd have to admit that Zane was the only person who had ever made him feel otherwise.

And that?

That was the most dangerous truth of all.

---

End of Chapter 33.