When was the last time we’ve even slept together? Scratch that. She couldn’t recall when the last time was that they even shared a bed to simply sleep.
And stranger yet, why couldn’t she manage the effort to care whether it had been more than six months or six days?
Why am I marrying him?
Aiden had proposed at the ideal time of their relationship. Not too early to seem rushed and not too late for it to seem like an afterthought. He’d asked her to marry him precisely before they’d had a chance to grow stagnant with each other. When she’d begun wondering about where they were leading. Whether to stay together or break up. At the time, it seemed like an easy answer. Yes. He’d had more pros than cons. That’s called settling, girl.
As soon as the ring was on her finger, that plus column plummeted while the negatives soared.
Why is he marrying me?
ELO broke out in song on her vanity, and she flinched, snapping out of her reverie.
Roman was texting.
She brought her cell phone closer and couldn’t fight the smile.
Ten minute warning.
The second time Zoe had ever ridden in a car with Aiden, she’d been late. Flustered at rushing, still unused to the concept of someone being paid to chauffeur her around. She’d only been in NYC for a couple weeks, and it wasn’t easy to adapt to letting someone else control her transportation. Aiden scolded her so harshly for tardiness—for what, she couldn’t even remember. After Roman had dropped off Aiden and was driving her to the apartment, he’d pulled over and suggested they share numbers, so he could help keep her on time.
Hired help. Yeah, right. He was her friend.
Yessir, she texted back.
She didn’t need those ten minutes. She was ready now. Hair slightly pulled back. Dress on. Godawful heels strapped to her tired feet. A flimsy jeweled chain she feared losing and cringing at its outrageous cost fastened on her neck. Makeup passable. She was as fancied up as she cared to be without feeling like a plastic doll or a hooker.
At least she appeared ready for a dinner date with her fiancé on the most romantic night of the year. Mentally? She was scatterbrained.
It had to be tonight. They’d be together for a change, not him at his office all night and her alone with books on the couch at home. She had to address the growing unease that controlled her mind more often than not.
If they didn’t love each other, why get hitched?
Roman wasn’t the only instigator of her doubts and second thoughts. Her cold feet came from her gut instincts. And it was past time to grow up, face him straight on and tell Aiden that she feared marriage wouldn’t be the right move for them. Never mind she’d danced around such ideas for over a year.
I will not settle for a man. Any more than I already have.
Tonight. At dinner, she’d talk with him.
She understood he worked long hours. His business was stressful, and he felt a deep need to prove his worth to his father. But—
ELO again.
She sighed at Roman’s follow-up text. Five min.
Whoops. She’d been standing at the door to leave, but damn was she nervous about the evening. Enough dilly-dallying.
On my way down now.
And she was. She couldn’t stall on her feelings anymore. Her clutch passed from one hand to the other as she stuck her arms into her coat. The ride down in the elevator was lonely, and she was still wrapping her coat around herself as she rushed through the lobby.
“Looking lovely, Miss Crispin. Enjoy your night,” the elderly doorman called.
“Jose. Thank you, but for the last time, it’s Zoe.” She gave him what she hoped was a coquettish smile as she backpedaled to the lobby’s door. “Repeat after me. Z-o-e.”
The first clutches of February’s cold wrath gripped her mostly bare legs as she stepped to the sidewalk.
Shoulda worn the long gown.
She flipped the collar up and nuzzled the faux fur—she didn’t care what Aiden’s expectations of appearances were, she’d never wear animals. The brutal winds and low temps stole the air out of her lungs, but the sight of Roman leaning against the car kept her breathless.
Waiting for me.
And, oh, was he, indeed.
Stretched back to the side of the car, he stood there with lazy strength, a debonair aura to his too tempting body. Long legs crossed at his ankles. Thick arms held over his chest. His shoulders were so wide she wondered how those suits fit him still, but damn did he fill them out well.
Is he sure it’s been a couple of years since working out? He had to grow muscles in his sleep then because no man who sat in a car all day could look that rugged and ripped.
“I’m back,” she said and attempted a curtsy.
Yeah. Not happening unless she wanted to moon Jose back in the lobby.
She had to say and do something though because his stare, so dark and fully on her, erased reality. It could have been a humid night in August for all she knew anymore. He simply stared, so heavily and hot at her, her prior nervousness almost exploded into full-out chaos. All she could see and feel was his gaze on her.
Finally, he pushed off the car and nodded.
“Hot pink,” he commented. “My favorite.”
She tossed him a smirk as she came closer. Hot pink and Roman? He was so the antithesis of anything girly and frilly. This man would go well with other colors. Red, maybe, like sin. His dark gray suit was very fitting to him, too. Or black, in reference to how dark and mysterious he seemed as he still stared at her, his attention like a chain linking them.
“Thought Aiden preferred … sophisticated hues,” he said as he opened the door and draped his arm over it.
She shrugged. “Felt like a hot pink kind of night to me.”
Did other women of New York’s upper class discuss their dresses with their chauffeurs? Banter and goof off with silly arguments? Border on … flirting? No one had ever trained her on how to treat hired help. And Roman was a godsend of a friend in a city where she knew so few. She didn’t feel like she belonged with the elitists, but her association to Aiden stuck her in there without she liked it or not.
Roman’s grin spread a flush on her skin, and she hid it, she hoped, by rushing into the backseat. There was no way to gracefully lower herself and keep the dress low enough, so speed it was. If he was exposed to an eyeful, it wasn’t like he’d be tempted to peek. Not his style, it seemed. She couldn’t possibly be the type of woman he’d desire, nor was he crass enough to blatantly oogle.
But what if…
What if he could be attracted to someone like her?
Warmth burned her cheeks at the hope in her thoughts, ashamed she would allow such a fantasy to tempt her while engaged to another. Aiden’s distance was making her eager for some connection, to anyone, it seemed. Roman was too good a friend to lust after so forbiddingly.
She sat in the backseat in silence for what felt like a very long moment before Roman entered and took his spot in the driver’s seat.
“So, if you haven’t been reading that sci-fi I gave you,” she said, needing the comfort of chatting with him, “what have you been reading lately?”
His mouth twitched from what she could see in the rearview mirror. Was he smirking or hiding a smile? “Not much. I’ve been busy with … other stuff.”
Stuff? Like what? Even though they only saw each other in this car, she felt she knew a lot about him. They were friends, after all. Aren’t we? Maybe she’d been assuming he cared more about her than she did him.
No, that’s Aiden. She refused to let her fiancé’s aloofness and growing indifference to her lower her general self-esteem.
“Oh.”
What else could she say? She wouldn’t pry.
He shifted in his seat, as though he could somehow face her better even though he had to keep himself toward the road. “I … uh…” A laugh escaped, and she couldn’t help but crinkle her nose in a weird smile. Embarrassed? Roman?
�
��I’ve been working on my books.”
She gasped and lurched forward to grip the top of the partition that blocked him from her. “No!”
He nodded as he steered the car, the corner of his lower lip between his teeth. “Yes.”
She smacked his shoulder twice as she keened a squeal. “No!”
“Yes.”
“Which one? For how long? I thought you said you were taking a break from it.”
“I did take a break from it. For a while.”
It wasn’t wise to distract him from the road, but she knew he’d never endanger her. She gripped his solid arm and squeezed. It was the best she could do as a hug in the car. “I’m so excited!”
He’d mentioned wanting to write novels before, but time—mostly the need to work as much as possible to cover rent—was too scarce. It peeved her that he’d stayed mum about a goal he’d seemed so committed to.
“Can I read it?”
“Maybe. I don’t know…”
She huffed. “What? I have to read it. Fantasy, right? Or didn’t you say you had a thriller idea, too?”
“Uh, we’ll chat about it later, okay. It’s really not that big of a deal.”
Once more she smacked his shoulder. “Of course, it’s a big deal!” It had been his dream, his passion. Pride was just the tip of what she felt for him.
“We’re here,” he said.
She barely glanced out the windows. She recognized enough on the drive over, having ridden the trip so many times in the last couple of years, all the glitz and pomp of this area of the Big Apple had become boring as scenery. But the funny tone of his voice as he announced their arrival had her scanning the city outside.
Aiden strode toward the car from the lobby of the hotel he owned. She sat down in her seat, scooting over for Aiden to get in, but focused on Roman again.
“There’s no maybe about it, mister. You’ve got to let me read it.” She drove in the growl in her demand by tapping her finger to the partition wall as though she was stabbing him in the chest like a scold.
Before Roman could even get out to open the door for Aiden, her fiancé reached for the handle and pulled. Cold air swirled in, chilling her exposed flesh, and she snuggled into her coat. Aiden shoved into her, kind of hard, and she adjusted to sit upright.
Okay, if he was trying to get close, he could try being a little cozier.
As soon as the door was pulled shut, she shifted to sit better and face her future spouse. He’d already distanced himself from her, though, with a jerk away.
“What—” Aiden reared to the opposite side of the car even more as Roman pulled into traffic. “What are you doing in here?”
She frowned and watched his bizarre reaction until another person leaned forward around him.
“Who’s she?” a redhead asked.
“Roman?” Aiden demanded. “What the hell is going on?”
The car slammed to a stop, just as suddenly as Zoe’s mouth dropped open.
“Babe?” the redhead asked, dragging a scornful glower over Zoe. Her not so resting bitch face sharpened into an active sneer. “Who is this tramp?”
Tramp?
Oh, no, no. If someone was going to be the trashy one in the backseat, it was this sneering, over-perfumed, and skankily dressed bimbo.
Realization dawned too fast. So quickly fury barely had a chance to boil.
“You’ve been cheating on me?” Hisses enunciated her words.
Why ask when it’s pretty damn clear… Clenching her teeth together, she glowered at Aiden.
“Cheating?” Redhead said. “He’s my man. I don’t know where you get off thinking you got dib—”
Zoe thrust her hand up, middle finger raised, showing this other woman the engagement ring Aiden had bought for her.
“You’re engaged?” Redhead asked.
A flurry of voices battled in the car, but Zoe wasn’t lost.
“How long, Aiden?” she asked.
“Where the hell is Stefan?” he asked Roman.
“Sick. I had no clue—”
Aiden leaned forward, wanting to throttle their driver by the murderous scowl on his lips. “No, obviously you do not have any fucking clue—”
“How long?” she asked again.
Redhead whistled. “Babe? Is she gonna leave now, or what?”
“Oh, I’m leaving.” Zoe pulled her coat closer and reached for the door handle. It didn’t matter how long he’d been disloyal to her. The fact he was at all was enough.
“Zoe, it’s not—”
She opened the door, cutting off his excuses.
Long nights in the office, my ass. How could I have been so stupid?
“Zoe!” That time it was Roman calling for her.
She yanked the door, not knowing or caring that it brought her out into full-stream traffic. Anywhere would be better than suffocating in that car. Roman jumped out of the driver’s side and ran around to her.
“Get over here!” he yelled over the roar of speeding vehicles.
Scooting her butt along the car, she pressed herself out of the way of other cars zooming by and honking at her on Fifth Avenue. Once she met Roman at the front bumper, he took her elbow and led her to the sidewalk. “Wait, Zoe.”
Wait? Hell no. She wasn’t waiting for anything anymore. Waiting to know whether or not she had Aiden’s love. Waiting for him to come home. Waiting for her heart to bitch slap her into waking up to the fact she had been settling in a loveless relationship with the two-timer.
“No,” she said. As soon as she spoke, he released her.
Aiden and his Valentine’s date had exited the car in the time she’d gotten to the safety of the sidewalk.
“It’s cold out here,” Redhead said and hopped in her high heels.
“Zoe,” Aiden said and approached her. “It’s not you, it’s—”
“Her!” Zoe finished for him. “It is you and her. How long?”
He shrugged, his too-long and not-so-stylish blond hair whipped in the wind. “Since my trip to Boston.”
Boston. Boston? She ran through the times he’d gone out of town for work. So many occasions. Boston. That’d been a big one, a week-long trial of meetings and conference back in—
“August!” She shoved at him.
Aiden fell back into Redhead. She spit out a slew of profanities, noise Zoe tuned out as she watched Aiden’s face shift from indignation at her physical force to annoyance. Yeah, it was cold out there. Boo, freaking hoo. Not as cold as the crap he had running in his veins.
“Why?”
Did she really want to know? Need to? He, and whatever excuses he had, no longer mattered.
Finis.
Done.
Over.
“Why?” she asked again, minus the hiss. Glutton for punishment, it seemed.
“If you must know, I was … bored.” Aiden shrugged. “I wanted someone fun. Spontaneous.”
Her fingers curled into fists at her sides as his words stung more than they should have.
“Don’t you ever feel like you might be … kind of lame?” he asked.
“But why—”
He cut her off, eager to pay attention to her now, ready to explain more. “I only ever asked you out because you kept turning me down. You became a challenge, and then once I had you…” His single bark of a laugh cut through the air. “You became convenient. Father finally stopped bugging me about sleeping around, kept pushing me to propose. He wanted me to marry someone who wouldn’t be after my money. Someone to pop out some grandkids to shut him up—legit grandkids. He thought you would make a safe wife for me, because you’re so bookish and quiet. Maybe an old man might like that, but I need adventure, a thrill—”
Before she could compute a reply, Roman rushed forward, his arm raised. She’d almost forgotten he was there with them, freezing on the sidewalk. He pulled back and let a solid punch find a home on Aiden’s face.
“Oh—my God.” Zoe covered her mouth. Her ex-fiancé deserved zero ounces of s
ympathy from her. Pity was instinctive, though. Because God damn did that Roman pack a punch.
Down on one knee, Aiden howled in pain. Redhead took her cue to comfort the sleaze because she wrapped herself around his other side, cooing about her poor baby.
“Roman.” Shocked at his action, Zoe could only whisper his name.
Aiden had recovered from the surprise faster though. He lowered his hand to showcase the blood from his nose. “What the hell was that for?”
Roman scoffed as he backstepped to Zoe’s side. “She didn’t deserve that. Lame?” Another huff. “She’s not lame. You want to know lame?” His elbow knocked into hers, and he showed them his fist again. “I’ll show you la—”
“Roman!” She gripped his sleeve, and he stilled instantly. As bewildering and well … freaking hot it was to see a man, this man, defending her, he didn’t need to bother. Aiden and his opinions now mattered as much as soiled toilet paper stuck to a sewer plate in Times Square. “Don’t.”
Heat radiated from him as he turned to stare at her, his dark gaze unreadable. His head tilted slightly in a nod, and she released her hold on him.
“You’re fired!”
Roman tossed a deadpan smirk at Aiden’s yell.
Zoe pulled up her coat sleeve and began twisting her ugly mammoth ring off. “And you can fu—”
“Wait.” Roman turned to her again. “Wait, Zoe. You don’t want to do that.”
Was he suggesting she forgive that asshat still on his knee?”
“The hell I don’t.” She grunted as she struggled to free her digit from that too gaudy ring.
“Zoe—” Roman tried again.
She leveled him an are you fucking kidding me glare. “Yes, I do.”
“You’re not going home to that penthouse tonight, are you?” he asked as he hurried to stand in front of her, blocking Aiden with his bloodied nose and his just as red-haired lover. His strong hands gripped her biceps.
Return to the penthouse? Of course, she wasn’t. She’d never go back there again.
Roman said, “That rock’s probably worth at least a couple months’ rent somewhere.”
She froze, stilling her attempts to toss the piece of jewelry at Aiden’s face, from hoping one of the sharp corners of the diamond might mar up another part of his Botoxed face.
Valentine's Date Page 2
