Ashes and Scales: Remember Us, Mate

Chapter 2: Zoraya Busco

EARLIER

MAIA

Adrenaline coursed through my veins as the helicopter descended, revealing the massive Busco mansion below. I could not believe I was about to walk into one of the most prestigious estates in the city.

I was almost late, thanks to spending the morning making breakfast for Keir and fixing his work clothes before I got myself ready. Fortunately, my cousin Lira, who had secured this gig for me, was able to arrange a helicopter ride for me from a Busco employee who was on her way to pick up her mother.

Her mother was not supposed to be working today, but there was an emergency and the Buscos needed her. So they dispatched a helicopter, and I tagged along.

The helicopter landed smoothly in front of the massive mansion, and as the blades slowed, I unbuckled and stepped out. I thanked the pilot, who nodded as I made my way toward the grand entrance.

The estate stretched out in front of me, with perfectly manicured gardens in every direction, and the mansion itself was nothing short of breathtaking.

My heart raced with anticipation and nervousness as I got closer to the entrance. The Busco residence was something I had heard about, but seeing it for myself was a whole other story. The double doors were massive, and I pushed one open to enter the foyer, catching my breath as I took in the marble floors and soaring ceilings.

I was so caught up in admiration that I barely noticed when someone approached me. "Good morning. How may I assist you?” The voice pulled me back to reality, and I turned to see a sharply dressed employee looking at me expectantly.

"Oh, um, I'm here for Lira," I replied quickly, and, as if on cue, I saw Lira descend the massive stairwell.

“She’s with me,” she called out, and it was a relief to see her familiar face. "This place is like a hotel," I gushed, my eyes still darting around, trying to take it all in as I walked up to her and she laughed, obviously used to this type of reaction.

“I know, right? It’s pretty overwhelming at first.”

We started up the stairs together. “Thank you again for giving me this opportunity,” I said, glancing at her gratefully. She grinned as we arrived at the top of the stairs. “Don’t mention it. Just remember to keep your head down and do your job. It’s an incredible chance to learn, but the Buscos expect perfection.” I nodded in agreement, excitement building in my chest.

This was more than just a job; it was a glimpse into a world I had imagined since I was a pup, and I could tell it would be an unforgettable experience.

Lira had managed to get me here as part of my fashion studies assignment, and I was eager to observe the day-to-day life of someone like Zoraya Busco.

When we walked in, Zoraya sat in front of her massive vanity, her reflection illuminated by soft, flattering lights. I whispered a hello as Lira and I walked past. But heard no reply which I didn't take to heart, knowing my voice probably came out too soft due to how nervous I was.

I was expecting Lira to introduce me, but it appeared that it was unnecessary as she headed straight for the closet. Perhaps she would do it after Zoraya finished her makeup.

Lira told me about the makeup artist, and how highly recommended she was by Tori, Zoraya's cousin. The beautician stepped back, admiring her creation with a satisfied smile.

“You look stunning,” she cooed, and I couldn’t help but look on. “The foundation has given you a flawless glow, and the eyeliner really makes your eyes pop with that perfect cat eye. It’s all so beautifully balanced,” she said and Indeed, Zoraya looked perfect.

Her eyes were captivating and sharp, and her skin was glowing. However, Zoraya's expression turned into one of utter contempt the instant she saw her reflection.

“No,” she shrieked. “This is horrible. I look like a clown!” She was on her feet, grabbing a tissue and frantically wiping her face before anyone could react. “Why did Tori do this to me?” she cried out, her voice rising with every word.

The makeup artist stood frozen, her face drained of color as she watched Zoraya destroy hours of work, and Lira, who had begun sorting Zoraya's closet, dashed out, panic written all over her face while I stood there terrified for the makeup artist.

Lira rushed to Zoraya's side, attempting to help her remove the makeup. But Zoraya jerked away, her tone sharp and commanding.

“Don’t touch me!” she snapped, waving Lira off. "Get her out!" she screamed, pointing a trembling finger at the makeup artist and Lira paused for only a second before grabbing the makeup artist's arm and practically shoving her out of the room.

The door slammed shut behind her, and I could hear her muffled sobs as she was led away. Zoraya turned back to the mirror, frantically cleaning her face. "I need to get this off before it ruins my skin," she said, her hands trembling as she applied moisturizer. I looked around, wanting to hide but afraid to move and draw her attention.

Just then, there was a knock on the door, and another young woman walked in, Tori, the cousin who had recommended the poor beautician, her eyes widening in response to the chaos. "What is going on?" she asked, her gaze shifting between Zoraya and the discarded makeup products.

"I thought you said this girl was the best," Zoraya hissed, staring at her cousin.

"She is the best," Tori said, frowning. "What happened?

Zoraya threw her hands up in frustration. “Your makeup artist happened! She used these awful products that are sucking the life out of my skin!” She shivered dramatically, patting her face with delicate fingers, and Tori sighed, trying to reason with her.

She mentioned that she had been working with the girl for five years. "I always receive compliments on my skin." But Zoraya cut her off. “It’s okay, Tori. It’s actually my fault. I should have known better based on how your makeup looked."

Tori's eyes narrowed, offended. "What is that supposed to mean? You think my makeup looks bad?"

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to,” Zoraya shot back, not even bothering to look at her cousin as she turned to Lira. “Call Yuri. Ask her how long she’s still going to be at home for,” she said, and her cousin gasped in disbelief at the command.

“Zoraya, she just gave birth last week,” she interjected, but Zoraya didn’t care.

"I know that, but I need her," she said, her voice on the verge of whining. "Look at me. I am a mess. I can not go on like this, and I need to meet Cian in a few minutes." I was dumbfounded for a moment until I felt a hand on my arm and realized it was Lira gently removing me from the scene and back into the closet.

My eyes widened as I took in all the clothes, shoes, bags, and stuff I couldn’t even name. No wonder Zoraya always looked so magical.

Her closet was filled with the latest fashions, each piece tailored to perfection to accentuate her slender, elegant figure. Whether she wore a flowing gown for a grand event or casual designer wear, her impeccable style made me eager to learn from her.

She was the daughter of one of Luxor Heights' wealthiest families, so I suppose I should have expected her personality to not match her stunning wardrobe. I understood her dissatisfaction with the makeup, but her reaction was unjustified, and witnessing that confrontation caused me to reconsider my desire to work in this field.

When I said that to Lira, she laughed and said I would definitely need a thick skin. "Does she treat you all like this?" I asked, and she nodded, turning to me.

“I used to cry but then I got used to it and I decided to focus on the money. I also kind of understand... I mean, she’s been sheltered from the harsh realities of the world. She lives in a bubble of luxury and adoration, surrounded by people who cater to her every whim. She’s never had to work or struggle for anything like you and me. As a result, she sees the world through a privileged and entitled lens, believing that life is perfect because it has always been perfect for her.

So it is only natural that her personality reflects her sheltered existence. To her, the world is a playground, and she is the queen. And if you ask me, her parents, not her, are to blame. She does not know any better." Lira said before handing me an outfit and instructing me to lay it on the bed.

"It is what Zoraya's going to wear next," she said casually, but my heart raced as I walked out of the closet. I carefully draped the outfit on the bed, my hands trembling slightly as I avoided looking over to the vanity, where I could see Zoraya in the corner of my eye. I did not want to draw attention to myself after witnessing the tantrum.

But as I finished laying out the outfit and was about to return to the closet, I heard Zoraya's voice cut through the room.

"Wait." I froze, my stomach tightening, before slowly turning around. She stood up from her vanity, her gaze fixed on me. "Who are you, and what are you doing in my room?" she asked but before I could respond, Lira emerged from the closet and rescued me.

"This is Maia, Ms. Busco," Lira said smoothly. "Remember? You said it was okay for her to come and help out today.”

Zoraya's expression softened slightly as she looked at me, her eyes narrowing briefly before tilting her head. "You have beautiful eyebrows," she said unexpectedly, and I blinked, taken aback. "Thank you," I mumbled, not expecting a compliment given what had just happened.

She then turned to Lira, dismissively pointing to the pile of makeup products on the vanity that had caused the previous meltdown. “Take them and do whatever you must with them. Just don’t make me see them again.”

Lira smiled and nodded. “Yes, Ms. Busco.” She turned to me, and we quickly started gathering the makeup. As we worked, I whispered to Lira, "Do you have to discard these?" And Lira's eyes twinkled with amusement as she replied, "Hell no. We are keeping all these. They cost a fortune.”

I glanced at the products, suddenly realizing their worth, and felt a little thrill at the thought of getting some of them. We were about to return to the closet when Zoraya came out of the bathroom, her voice startling us both.

“Lira, you can take my Valentino Celestial Collection with you. I’ll be caught dead wearing that. Give some to the new girl... if you want.”

Without waiting for a response, she disappeared back into the bathroom, and my eyes widened in shock. “The Valentino Celestial Collection?” I whispered, almost unable to believe what I’d just heard. That collection was the stuff of legends—a line of dresses by one of the world's most famous designers. And Zoraya was just giving them away?

How the hell does she go from "I will kill you all for ruining my face" to "You have beautiful brows. Take my most expensive dress collection that’s worth your lives," I said, and Lira chuckled softly as we headed back to the closet.

“I told you, it’s not personal with her. It’s just how she is.”

•••

ZORAYA BUSCO

My heart fluttered as the chauffeur helped me out of the car, and a blush crept up my cheeks. "Ms. Busco," he said, but my gaze was already fixed on Cian, who was approaching me with that smile that always made my stomach flip.

"Hey, you," he said, leaning in and pecking my cheek and I felt my blush deepen as we linked fingers, a sense of warmth spreading through me.

We went inside, with Cian casually mentioning that he was almost finished with what he was doing and that we would leave soon. Breakfast was the plan, and with my parents away, I was determined to make the most of it.

As we entered the building, we ran into Cian's sister, whose face lit up with surprise before hugging me. “How are you?” she asked as we drew back and I forced a smile, but my heart clenched. Cian's family adored me and treated me as one of their own, but my own family despised him. The irony wasn’t lost on me, and it made everything feel heavier.

My parents would disown me if they discovered our relationship, so we had to keep it a secret. And the worst part? All this animosity had nothing to do with us. It was our fathers—rivals with an endless grudge—dragging us into their feud.

My mother even told me about my mate when I begged her for understanding, like anyone actually cared about the mate bond. In our world, power alliances ruled everything, and the mate bond was simply a complication that we learned to overlook.

“Are you okay?” Cian's voice jolted me out of my reverie as we stepped into the elevator, and I whispered, "I am," trying to shake off the gloom. "I..." I began to tell him about my terrible morning, but before I could finish, he leaned in, kissing my lips feverishly as the elevator doors closed behind us, enclosing us in our own little world.

I melted into the kiss, all my worries fading as his warmth enveloped me, and we did not pull back until the elevator ding signaled our arrival. I was a flushed crimson mess, my heart racing.

“I love you,” Cian said, his eyes locking onto mine, and I whispered back that I loved him too. The elevator doors opened, and as we stepped out, someone mentioned Cian's name. He confirmed it, but as soon as I stepped out, everything around me blurred and faded into nothing.

I froze, my breath caught in my throat, as the most intoxicating scent hit me like a punch in the gut. My mate.

There he was—a human—a bloody, filthy, nobody human. My mind screamed in protest, disgust curling in my stomach, but my heart... My heart betrayed me, crying out that he was ours. The war raged inside me, mind and heart locked in a brutal conflict, but my body—my traitorous body—moved on its own.

Before I knew it, my hands were on his collar, pulling him towards me and lifting him off the ground. Everything else faded away—the bustling hallway, Cian’s presence, even the world itself. All I saw was him—this human with the audacity to be my mate.

My heart pounded in my ears, drowning out every rational thought and instinct except one: destroy him, and I hurled him across the hall.

"Zoraya! Baby! What’s happening?” Cian’s voice echoed somewhere in the distance, but it was faint, barely registering. I couldn’t respond; I couldn’t even think straight. My mind screamed at me to rip his heart out and end this filth that dared to exist in my presence.

But something deep inside me screamed no, pleading with me to stop and recognize the bond that should have been sacred. But I couldn’t—wouldn’t—listen. Rage and disgust fueled me, and before I knew it, I had him pinned against the wall, my hand flying to his chest.