This might've made for a nice storybook ending, if only the mom hadn't gotten stir-crazy when Zane was still a baby, and returned to Hollywood, where she died in a car crash only a few months later.
Apparently, Zane's dad had been a total recluse ever since.
The more I learned, the more I saw Zane differently – and not only because of his tragic past. It was because here, in the present, he was showing me a side of him that I hadn't known existed.
I hadn't expected any of this – the conversation, the attention, and a multitude of other small courtesies that I never would've associated with someone like Zane Bennington – the biggest prick on the planet.
And yet, I wasn't seeing him that way anymore. Not today. And maybe not ever from now on.
Within just a few short hours, I knew more about him than I ever would've expected.
It wasn't like he told me everything all at once. Rather, as we wandered through the city, he'd let a detail slip here or there. This is how I also learned that he'd graduated from Michigan Tech University, where he'd earned a bachelor's in physics, and then a master's in civil engineering.
I gave his T-shirt a sideways glance. "So that's where the shirt's from."
He looked down as noticing it for the first time. "Well, it's not from Harvard, that's for sure."
I couldn’t help but tease, "So, they turned you down, huh?"
"No. I turned them down."
"Really? So you were accepted?"
"Hey, it wasn't that hard," he said. "I had legacy on my side. I would've been the fourth generation to go."
I had to laugh. "Not that hard, huh? So tell me, what were your scores?"
After going back and forth a few times, he finally admitted that he'd gotten a nearly perfect score on his SAT, and that he'd graduated summa cum laude – for his bachelor's and his master's.
Although I hadn't recognized the university logo, I did know a little something about his alma mater. It wasn't Ivy League, but it wasn't a school for dolts either. The way I heard it, you had to be wicked smart just to get in – and legacy counted for zip.
Apparently, I was dealing with a certified genius. It shouldn't have been a surprise. After all, he'd been running a multi-billion dollar corporation without breaking a sweat – even if he did break an egg or two along the way.
As the hours slipped by, I told him more about myself, too, even though I strongly suspected that in true Zane fashion, he already knew more than he let on.
As we sat on a bench in Central Park, I happened to mention the location of my parent's farm and was surprised when Zane showed a genuine interest, even to the point of asking what crops they were growing this year.
At this, I had to laugh. "Oh come on. You're just being nice."
He lifted a single eyebrow. "Me? You're kidding, right?"
Was I? That word, nice, it didn't fit him at all – or at least, it hadn't until today. Maybe this should've worried me – the fact that he'd been such a bastard all along, and now, he was acting like a pretty decent guy.
We were sitting close, with his arm draped over my shoulders. I leaned into him and savored the feel of his hard body against mine. "Well, you're a lot nicer today than normal."
"Yeah? Well don't tell anyone."
Funny, he didn't sound like he was joking. I pulled back to study his face, even as I teased, "Why? Would it ruin your reputation?"
"Probably." His eyes held no trace of humor. "My grandfather? He was the nicest guy you ever met."
"I know." I paused. "I mean, it's what everyone says."
"Right." Zane was frowning now. "And you wanna know what it got him?"
"What?" I asked.
"Nothing but trouble. My uncles – meaning my dad's brothers? Guys were total losers. Drugs, women, you name it."
As far as I knew, Zane didn't do drugs. And he certainly wasn't a loser. But when it came to women, he was in no position to talk. The recollection was a cold splash on an otherwise warm day.
Next to me, Zane said, "What is it?"
"What's what?" I asked.
"What were you thinking?"
"When?"
"Just now," he said. "Tell me."
I didn't want to tell him. Because if I did, I'd have to face the reality of how fleeting all of this would surely be. I recalled What's-Her-Name from his private jet. She'd looked at Zane like he was the only guy in the world. And he'd looked at her like she was used goods.
And then, there was Maven from dinner. The way it sounded, he'd ditched her pretty quickly, too.
But I didn't want to dwell on it, just like I didn't want to dwell on Zane's earlier comments about my job. Maybe I was about to be fired. Or maybe, he'd been speaking rhetorically. Foolish or not, I didn't want to ask.
Not now.
I still hadn't answered his question. What was I thinking? I glanced around. The sky was blue, and the breeze was warm. Around us, the trees were rustling, and I was sitting with the most fascinating person I'd ever met.
Worrying, I decided, would be an absolute waste. After all, it wouldn’t change a single thing.
Besides, I wasn't that naive. I already knew how this would end.
Badly.
Because with Zane, that's how it always ended. And yet, right now, I couldn't bring myself to care, or at least, not enough to ruin what was shaping up to be a pretty spectacular day. So I summoned up a smile and said, "Nothing."
He gave me a dubious look. "Uh-huh."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means, I know what you're thinking."
"Oh yeah? What?"
"You're thinking, 'Who is this guy, judging his uncles when he's just as bad? Worse, even.'"
A nervous laugh escaped my lips. "That's not what I was thinking." Not word-for-word, anyway.
His mouth held the hint of a smile. "If you say so."
In spite of everything, I felt like smiling, too. "Okay, then I also know what you're thinking."
"Yeah? What's that?"
"You're thinking, 'How'd I end up on a park bench with some farmer's daughter.'"
His tone became flirtatious. "Hey, I like farmer's daughters."
Funny. On this, Teddy might've been right. Go figure.
I smiled up at him. "Oh yeah?"
Zane gave a slow nod. "One in particular."
It was such a lovely thing to say, especially from him. And, if he were anyone else, I might've believed that it was more than simple flattery.
Zane's gaze met mine. "And," he continued, "I know exactly why we're sitting on some bench."
"Why?"
"Because, if we're in public I might behave myself."
I had to laugh. "You? Behave yourself? Oh, please."
His eyebrows lifted. "Meaning?"
I gave him a playful poke to the chest. "You're a monster."
As I pulled back my hand, he reached out and captured my wrist. Slowly, he turned my hand so my palm was facing upward. And then, he lowered his head and grazed his lips across the tender skin between my wrist and palm.
It didn't feel like a kiss. It felt like a promise. My heart fluttered, and my mouth went suddenly dry. I heard myself say, "Was that a serious answer?"
Against my wrist, he said, "Which one?"
"That you wanted to leave the hotel so we'd behave?"
"Not us," he said, with another teasing kiss, this one to my wrist. "Me."
"Seriously?"
With his lips still on my skin, he looked up and hit me with those amazing eyes of his. The way it looked, he was dead serious.
Again, I felt myself swallow.
I half-expected him to pull me close and kiss me on the lips, just like he had in his hotel room doorway. But he didn't. Instead, he got to his feet and tugged me up along with him.
He wrapped me in his arms, and brushed his lips against my forehead. We stood there like that one heavenly moment before he pulled back to say, "Monster, huh?"
I laughed. "Definitely."
&nbs
p; He shrugged. "Eh, I've been called worse."
Now, this, I knew was true.
The next hours flew as we toured the Statue of Liberty, walked along Broadway, and rode to the top of the Empire State Building. Throughout all of this, he was a perfect gentleman.
I didn't know whether to be relieved or frustrated. Probably, I was a little bit of both, because I knew that whatever he asked me in private, I'd never be able to say no.
And yet, when we returned to the hotel, I was saying no. But it wasn't to sex. It was to something else.
Chapter 54
I stared down at the single sheet of paper. "I'm not signing that."
We were standing just inside the door to my hotel room. We'd returned to the hotel just a few minutes earlier, after an amazing day in the city, complete with a sunset dinner overlooking Times Square.
It had been one of the best days of my life, and now, it was turning sour so quickly, it was making my head spin.
I read aloud the first line of the document that Zane had retrieved on the way in. "Severance agreement?" I looked up. "Seriously?"
Zane said, "Is there a problem?"
"Of course, there's a problem. You're firing me."
If I'd expected him to look guilty, I would've been sadly disappointed. He looked as hard and determined as I'd ever seen him.
He said, "Technically, I fired you this morning."
I stared in stunned disbelief. "So, you were serious?"
"You know I was."
"That's not true," I said. "I mean, you also said you were going to fly out, and you didn't do that."
"I know. And that's a problem."
"Why is that a problem?" I asked.
"You don't know?"
I did. And I didn't. I gave a loose shrug and made no reply.
He loomed closer. "It's a problem, because I should've gotten the hell out of here."
"But why?"
His body was rigid and his eyes were hard. "Because I can't fuck you and be your boss at the same time."
I drew back. "What did you just say?"
His gaze softened. "Look, I didn't mean it like that."
"I think you did. And it seems to me, you're assuming an awful lot."
His gaze dipped to my lips. "Am I?"
Something in his look went straight to my core. And yes, in a sense, he was right. After all, I'd known exactly what kind of signals I'd been giving off. But in my fantasies, I didn't have to sign on the dotted line beforehand.
When I made no reply, Zane said, "So, if I asked you to my room, you'd say no."
I lifted my chin. "Yes, actually."
I wasn't even lying. I'd definitely be saying no now, since he was back to being a total prick.
He stepped back, putting more distance between us. It made me feel cold and alone, in spite of the fact that he was still within standing arm's reach. Suddenly, the gulf between us felt insurmountable in every possible way.
He asked, "So what are you suggesting?"
I sighed. "I don't know."
"Think," he said. "You wanna keep your job, pretend there's nothing there?"
I didn't know what to say. When no reasonable response came to mind, I gave yet another hopeless shrug.
In front of me, Zane looked as hard as ever. "You can't have it both ways. You know that, right?"
I looked down at the sheet of paper. What he was offering was actually pretty spectacular. Three year's salary, plus benefits. It was a fabulous deal by any stretch, especially considering that I'd been his employee for only a few months.
And yet, I hated this, and not only because of my job. Mostly, it felt like he was paying me for sex – and then, even worse, paying me to leave afterward.
Talk about insulting.
If I signed on the dotted line, what kind of person would I be?
Again, I glanced at the numbers.
Well, I wouldn't be cheap, that's for sure.
I asked, "So, what'd you do? Have your lawyers draw this up while we were out?"
Was that why he'd spent the day with me? Had he just been killing time while the attorneys worked to cover his ass? If so, it was incredibly disheartening.
But in front of me, Zane said, "No."
Well, that was informative.
I fluttered the sheet of paper. "So, you keep a stack of these lying around?"
"What do you think?"
"Right now?" I gave a humorless laugh. "Trust me. You don't want to know."
He pointed to the sheet. "Look at the date."
I looked down and felt my forehead wrinkle in confusion. The document was dated yesterday. I looked up. "So you were planning to fire me regardless?"
In a gentler tone, he said, "I'm not firing you. I'm terminating the contract."
I had to point out the obvious. "But that's the same thing."
"Not legally."
"And that's supposed to make me feel better?" I searched his eyes for some clue of what was really going on. "And I've gotta ask, why'd you hire me in the first place?"
"You want the truth?"
I nodded.
"I hired you, because I was a fucking idiot."
I stared up at him. "Gee, thanks."
"Jane, listen…" He blew out a long unsteady breath. "When I called you in for that interview, I told myself a shit-ton of lies – that I could keep it professional, that I was hiring you because you were honest and could keep a secret, and yeah, because I was short of people I could trust. But…"
With a low curse, he looked away.
"But what?" I asked.
He looked back to meet my gaze. "But I was lying – not to you. To myself. Because you wanna know the real reason I hired you?"
I felt myself nod.
"Because I wanted you near me, even if you hated my guts. Hell, if you hated me, even better."
I sucked in a breath. This wasn't anything like the answer I'd been expecting. And yet, it was so strange.
"But why?" I asked. "I mean, why would you want me near you and want me to hate you? That makes no sense."
He shoved a hand through his hair. "Yeah, tell me about it."
In spite of my confusion, I was stupidly pleased – until I recalled the parade of models and actresses he'd been dating from day-one.
If he'd been so interested in me, he wouldn't have been with any of them, much less all of them.
"I don't get it," I said, "if you were interested in me at all, why were you so awful?"
And why were you screwing other girls?
"I told you why," he said. "It was because I didn't want you to like me."
"But why not?"
"Because I've had to do things – ugly things – and I didn't want you involved. I shouldn't have hired you. It was a mistake, a selfish mistake. But I wanna make it right."
I shook my head. "By firing me?"
"Yes."
"But why?"
He reached for my hand. "Because I don't want you as an employee. I don't want you to say yes to anything, now or later, because you think your job is on the line."
At this, I wasn't sure if I should be touched or insulted. "You think I would?"
"No. But I'm not gonna take that chance."
"Technically, wouldn't it be me taking the chance?"
"Yeah," he said. "And I wouldn't like it."
"Why not?"
"All right, I'll spell it out. I don't want you to be the girl in the office that everyone knows I'm fucking. I don't want people to look at you, like you're trash, sleeping your way to the top. I don't want people to snicker behind your back or gossip when I call you into my office."
I stared up at him. "But you don't care about stuff like that."
His voice softened. "I would with you."
"But why?"
"Because you'd care, and if anyone hurt you – shit, if I hurt you – I wouldn't like it." He looked to the sheet of paper. "So yeah, I'm a selfish bastard. And you wanna know why?"
Almost in a trance, I felt myse
lf nod.
"Because I want you to sign that thing now and get it out of the way, so I can drag you upstairs and do all the things I've been wanting to from the first time I laid eyes on you."
I was nearly breathless now. "What kind of things?"
He moved closer, and lifted my chin with his index finger. He moved very close until our lips were almost touching. In a low, seductive voice, he said, "I'm not gonna say. But I will promise you this…"
"What?"
"I'm not gonna stop 'til your throat's raw from moaning my name." His gaze dipped lower, and he said in almost a whisper, "And I can promise you this, you'll be plenty sore tomorrow."
That shouldn't have thrilled me. But it did. After all, I'd heard the rumors. I said, "You mean because you're, um, well endowed?"
"No, although I'm not gonna deny it. What I mean is, I'm not gonna stop until you're trembling so hard, your bones ache."
Holy hell.
That prick knew exactly what he was doing. Already, I was aching for him. I could feel my body responding. Wanting him. Craving him.
I glanced toward the window of my hotel room. I wasn't on a top floor, but the view was still pretty nice. I had a king size bed and fresh sheets. And in front of me, I had the sexiest guy I'd ever met.
In spite of my earlier protests, I reached for the pen he was holding in his free hand. And then, heaven help me, I signed.
Chapter 55
In a way, it felt like I was signing away my soul. But with a final flourish, it was done. I bit my lip as I silently handed him the paper.
The prick actually paused to read it.
And yet, it didn't dampen my desire for him. After all, I knew he was a prick long before tonight.
I gave the bed a nervous glance, wondering if I should fold down the bedspread or…?
Zane said, "If you think we're staying here, think again." He reached for my hand. "Now, come on."
While leading me out of my room, he mentioned, almost as an aside, that my severance pay was already deposited into my account.
So, he'd known all along that I'd say yes?
Talk about cocky.
Positively Pricked: A Billionaire Loathing-to-Love Romance Page 25
