Chapter 33. Drugged Or...?

Zayn’s polished shoes hit the stone driveway as Day opened the car door. He stepped out sluggishly, his fingers already pulling the dark tie from around his neck with slow, deliberate movements. The cool night air brushed over his skin, but it did little to steady the heat rising beneath it.

He paused at the foot of the stairs, rolling his neck and unbuttoning the top three buttons of his shirt. His breath came a little heavier than usual, his vision swimming slightly as he blinked up at the mansion’s front doors.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, dragging a hand down his face. The drug was hitting harder than expected. Much harder.

Day stepped forward cautiously. “Boss, do you need help—”

Zayn silenced him with a lazy wave of his hand, his jaw clenched in defiance. “I’m fine.”

But, he wasn’t. Each step up the staircase felt heavier than the last. Halfway, he stopped to grip the banister and regain his stance. His eyes narrowed as he muttered to him