[BL] CRAVING HIM: Addicted to His Voice Chapter 201: The Unexpected Delivery

~Evric’s POV~

Father managed to speak between laughs. "Did you realize you just said you are jealous now, Evric?"

"Father," I called out, my voice tight. "I’m not jealous!"

"Alright, alright," he conceded, still chuckling. "Let’s continue."

A while later, I excused myself to use the restroom. Once inside, I pulled out my phone and quickly sent a ssage to Zayn telling him to join . A few minutes later, the door clicked, and he showed up.

"Hey, babe," Zayn said softly, closing the door behind him.

I greeted him with silence. I wrapped my hand possessively around his waist and simply stared at him.

He looked back, sensing the shift in my mood. "What’s up? Why are you looking at like that?"

I smiled, a thin, aningless gesture. "Did you watch play?"

He hesitated, his gaze dropping montarily. "I’m sorry, babe. I was actually talking to Evans, and I didn’t really watch."

"You didn’t watch at all," I repeated, letting the disappointnt sting my voice.

"I do, but I can’t really understand golf," he offered as an excuse.

"You can’t really understand it," I pressed, tightening my grip on his waist, "because what you were talking about with Evans was more important."

"No, babe, I was—"

I cut him off, my voice sharp. "You seed to really enjoy talking to Evans."

"Yes," he admitted, looking slightly confused. "Because Evans and I almost shared similar interests."

Hearing that sentence, that he had common ground with my brother, literally sent a spike through my chest. "Like what exactly?" I asked, my voice dangerously low.

He ntioned nothing in particular, quickly changing the topic, while I just stared at him, the silence accusing.

Then, seeing my expression, he tried to appease . "Evans just seems mature, and more like..."

I cut in, a harsh, humorless chuckle escaping my throat. "You really enjoy talking to him."

"Yes, I do! He’s—"

"He’s what?" I interrupted, my control fully eroding. "He’s older? He’s a better conversationalist? Is he more of a ’man’ because he asks you about personality? That’s what you talk about behind my back? How much do you enjoy my brother’s company?" The words were pouring out now, laced with ridiculous, raw insecurity. "Maybe you should just marry Evans!"

"EVRIC!" Zayn shouted, the sound echoing off the tile walls. "Evans is your brother! Why are you being like this? Why are you being so jealous?!"

"Yes, he’s my brother, but I still do not like it!" I retaliated, shoving the confession in his face. "I don’t like you laughing with him! I don’t like him touching your hand when he laughs! I don’t like it!"

That was the breaking point for him. His eyes flashed with pure anger. "You are unbelievable." He turned abruptly to leave, but I caught him from behind, pinning his arms to his sides.

"Let go of !" he shouted, struggling violently.

"Zayn, I’m sorry!" I cried out, holding him tight. "I’m sorry, I just—"

He managed to twist free, whirling around. He shoved my chest hard, repeatedly, using both hands. "Stop! Stop! You are ridiculous! You humiliate , you lock up, and now you can’t stand it when I talk to your own family? I hate this!" He pounded my chest once more before turning.

I imdiately backed off, defeated. "Zayn, I apologize. I went too far. I’m sorry. I’m over it. I won’t do it again."

He didn’t look back. He just yanked the door open and stord out of the restroom, leaving alone. He hadn’t forgiven .

I quickly ran after him. He turned just before reaching the viewing lounge where my family was gathered. His eyes were cold and furious.

"Can you just spare until we leave here?" he hissed under his breath. "I don’t want your father to see us like this. And don’t beg , because you know what you’re doing is wrong."

He pivoted and walked back to sit beside Evans. I continued toward my father.

Upon reaching them, my father took one look at my strained expression and the stiffness in my posture. "What happened?" he asked, his voice low and concerned.

I kept my answer simple and firm. "Father, we need to head back now." I offered no further explanation, knowing Zayn would despise involving my family in our fight.

My father, who rarely missed anything, simply nodded, giving permission to leave.

"Goodbye, bro," Chrisly called out.

I nodded in response and walked straight to the car to wait. Once inside, I sent a ssage to Zayn: "We should go ho. I’m waiting inside the car."

A few minutes later, Zayn joined inside the car, his deanor still rigid. My driver imdiately pulled away.

On the road, I turned to Zayn, ready to plead again. He cut off instantly. "For real, Evric, I’m angry right now."

I persisted, "Please, forgive ."

He looked away, his jaw tight. "I will forgive you, but not now."

Just then, my phone chid. It was a ssage from Karl. He needed my signature on docunts that were going to be delivered the next morning. Karl asked if I was close to the office area and requested that I branch over there before going ho, especially if I was still with my father.

I turned to Zayn. "I need to go to the office. We should go together."

"I’m not going," he stated flatly. "I’m going to see my friends."

His refusal was a sharp reminder of my earlier ultimatum. I swallowed my pride. "Then let my driver drop at the office, and he can take you to your friend’s place."

"No," Zayn replied, his voice final.

He dropped out along the side of the road, giving no smile, no kiss, no gesture of affection whatsoever. The car pulled away, leaving alone to face the evening’s work, knowing the chasm between us was now wider than ever.

When I arrived at the office, I finished the signing quickly; it was only my signature required. However, I decided to wait longer because of Zayn. I knew he’d definitely be at the bar later with his friends, and I wanted to pick him up. I checked the ti: it was only 7:35 PM. I watched all my staff clock out and close up, but I didn’t dare call Zayn. I wanted to wait until it was closer to the hour I knew he’d eventually co ho.

Karl stayed with for a while; we talked mostly business. At 8:50 PM, my desk phone rang— a package had arrived for .

Karl went downstairs to retrieve it. When he brought it up, it turned out to be a packaged al from Zayn’s restaurant. I opened it. The note tucked inside read: "I did not forgive you, but you still need to eat." I smiled when I saw it. Even when you’re angry with , you are still thoughtful, Zayn.

After setting the food down, I invited Karl to join , but he declined. "If I don’t eat after I get ho, my wife will be angry," he explained. I understood. Not long after, Karl left the office, and I was left alone.

I looked at the delivered al. There was a surprising variety of dishes a lot of favorites, so I only planned to eat a few, wondering why Zayn had packed so much food.

I took a few bites of the food and drank from the accompanying beverage. Almost imdiately, I started feeling intensely hot from the inside. I checked the AC; it was still running full blast.

After a short while, I started sweating heavily. My entire body surged with a sudden, overwhelming urge for sex. A cold knot ford in my stomach as the realization hit : This is the work of drugs.

Drugs. The cold, terrifying realization hit like a physical blow. This wasn’t just a simple sedative; this was a powerful aphrodisiac designed to strip away control. My hands trembled as I gripped the edge of the desk.

The food. The drink. Zayn sent this. The thought was imdiately countered by raw, chilling dread. Zayn would never. This was a set-up.

I fought to clear the haze, struggling to stand, but my legs felt weak, and the overwhelming physical heat made my head swim. My breath caught in my throat, hot and ragged.

Just as I was frantically trying to figure out how there could possibly be drugs in the food Zayn had just sent to , my office door opened slowly.

I lifted my head, my vision blurred and distorted by the drug.

The figure standing there was Nicki.

He stood there, unhurried, taking in my disheveled state, the sweating, the undone tie, the desperate look in my eyes. He sauntered toward the desk, savoring every mont of my incapacitation.

"Hi, sweetheart," he purred.