Chapter 201: Trouble in Three Dots
Meanwhile, across the city, in a penthouse with a view of the sparkling skyline, Zayn Cole Virelli was sprawled out on his king-sized bed. He lay on his stomach, his toned body only covered by a pair of black boxer briefs. One arm was tucked under his pillow while the other held his phone up to his face.
He had been staring at the screen for the last ten minutes.
Delivered. Read.
But still no reply.
"Come on," he muttered, constantly refreshing the message thread, like that would somehow make her respond. "Just say something."
Zayn got her number from his secretary earlier that evening. He made a quick call, pretending to check in after yesterday’s incident at the shopping center, wanting to see if the young woman was okay. His secretary was super-efficient and managed to snag the info within an hour.
Not one to overthink attraction, Zayn shot a simple "Hi" the moment he saved her number in his phone.
That was twenty minutes ago.
Twenty minutes spent staring at the "Read" notification, just waiting for the three dots that would show she was typing back.
Nothing.
"Maybe she’s asleep," Zayn told himself, even though it was barely past ten. "Or busy. Or... she doesn’t even know who I am because I was an idiot and didn’t actually introduce myself in the text."
He was so focused on his phone that he didn’t even hear his bedroom door open.
"Well, well, well," a female voice said, full of teasing. "What’s going on here?"
Zayn didn’t even flinch. He was used to his mom completely ignoring the whole concept of knocking.
"Mom," he replied without looking up from his phone.
Isabella Virelli strolled into the room like she owned the place, which, technically, she did. She was dressed in stylish loungewear, her dark hair flowing over her shoulders, a playful smile on her face.
Unlike Zayden or Azalea, Isabella never waited to be told to come into Zayn’s room.
He had told her a long time ago that she didn’t need to knock. Part of him liked the relaxed vibe, the lack of formality.
It made him feel less like the baby of the family and more like... well, her favorite, if he was being real.
Isabella perched on the edge of his bed, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she took in her son, sprawled out with his phone in one hand and dressed in little more than his pajamas.
"So," she began, dragging out the word, "what’s the deal?"
Zayn finally looked up, a grin breaking through despite himself. "Nothing, Mom."
"Mm-hmm." Isabella’s grin widened. "I can tell when something’s up. Just like I can tell when this little monster is making an appearance." She gestured vaguely toward his lower half. "So that means you were chatting with some girl."
"Mom!" Zayn burst out laughing, rolling onto his side to face her properly. His face turned a bit pink, but he couldn’t stop grinning. "Oh my god, you did not just say that."
"I was right, wasn’t I?" Isabella said, looking way too happy with herself. "Come on, spill the tea."
Zayn shook his head, still laughing. "Alright, fine. I met her yesterday."
"And?" Isabella pressed, clearly curious.
Zayn shrugged. "I really like her, Mom. She’s... so innocent. Not in a naive way, but in a real way, you know? It’s like she hasn’t been messed up by all the drama that comes with this life."
Isabella’s expression softened. "And beautiful?"
"So beautiful," Zayn admitted, his voice taking on a dreamy quality that might have embarrassed him if anyone else was around. "You remember that girl I told you about—the one I bumped into at the shopping center?"
Isabella nodded, getting cozy on the bed.
"That’s her. Emma. I just texted her, but..." He glanced at his phone again, the ’Read’ notification taunting him. "She left me on ’seen.’"
"Oh, my poor baby," Isabella cooed, reaching out to mess up his hair. "So, is this love or just a crush?"
Zayn paused, seriously thinking about her question. "I’m not sure yet," he admitted. "It’s too early to call it love, right? But it doesn’t feel like a simple crush. But it doesn’t feel like a simple crush, and it’s definitely not just a fling. When I think about her, I don’t just think about... you know." He gestured vaguely. "I think about chatting with her. Getting to know her. Making her laugh."
Isabella smiled knowingly. "The way you light up talking about her beauty and how sweet and genuine she is? That sounds like love to me. You’ve totally fallen, Zayn. Finally. The day has come when my little one is in love."
"I barely know her," Zayn protested weakly.
"Love doesn’t wait for permission, sweetheart." Isabella patted his shoulder. "But seriously, did you even tell her who you are when you texted? Or did you just send ’Hi’ without any background?"
Zayn’s guilty look was answer enough.
"I didn’t tell her—" he admitted, a grin spreading across his face. "I just sent ’Hi.’"
Isabella burst out laughing. "Zayn! How do you expect her to reply if she doesn’t even know who you are?"
"I thought she’d... I don’t know, ask?"
"Baby, if a random number texts a girl late at night with just ’Hi,’ she’s going to think it’s spam or a creep. You have to tell her your name. Does she even know your name?"
"Yeah, we met yesterday. I gave her and her dad a reservation at our restaurant because I felt bad for bumping into her and ruining her dress."
"So, she knows Zayn Cole Virelli owns the restaurant?"
"She knows I’m Zayn. I don’t know if she caught the Virelli part or if she knows I’m the owner. It was all kind of hectic."
Isabella shook her head, but her smile was soft. "Text her again tomorrow morning. Just tell her who you are. Something like, ’Hey, it’s Zayn from yesterday. I wanted to check if you and your dad had a good time at dinner.’ Give her some context."
"You actually think she’ll reply then?"
"I think at least she’ll know who’s texting her, which is a good start." Isabella stood up, smoothing out her lounge pants. "Now get some sleep. And maybe throw on some real pajamas. What if there’s a fire and you have to bolt outside in your underwear?"
"Then I’ll give the neighbors a show," Zayn replied with a smirk.
Isabella laughed as she headed to the door. "Goodnight, Romeo. Dream about your Juliet."
"Night, Mom."
Once the door clicked shut, Zayn looked back at his phone. The ’Read’ notification was still there, taunting him.
Tomorrow. He’d text her again tomorrow, with something more meaningful.
And hopefully, this time, she’d respond.
He tossed his phone on the nightstand, plugging it in to charge. Then he flipped onto his back, staring at the ceiling, his mind filled with blonde hair, kind eyes, and a smile that had completely stopped him in his tracks.
Yeah, he was in trouble.
The good kind of trouble.
