by Abby Green
He’d arrogantly assumed he had an edge over his peers after everything that had happened to him, but he’d learnt nothing. This was a brutal lesson in recognising his own lack of humility. His complacency.
He’d been the susceptible fool who had succumbed to that sweet, hazy lovemaking in the darkest hours of the night, when she’d obviously—in spite of her inexperience—sensed her opportunity and made the most of it. Milking him so exquisitely with her tight body that he’d not even realised it wasn’t a dream because he’d never felt anything like it before.
But it hadn’t been a dream. It was a living nightmare. And now his weakness meant that everything he’d wanted to do to avenge the people who had given him life was for naught.
He went still then, as something struck him—a glimmering shard of possibility. A way he could still prevail. As it took root in his mind, for the first time since he’d heard this news the rage inside him cooled a fraction. Because there was a way he could turn this around. A way to thwart his grandmother’s nefarious plans. A way to avenge his parents far more profoundly than he’d ever anticipated.
By giving life to another name. His father’s name. Valenti.
When Zac felt slightly more in control he turned around, but seeing Rose standing there in his office still hit him like a punch in the gut. Her eyes looked too big. He noted too that she looked as if she’d lost weight, making her seem even more ethereal and delicate. It tugged on something inside him. Unwelcome.
He had to focus. Remember who she was. What she’d done. And try to salvage something out of this mess.
‘Sit down,’ he snapped, more forcefully than he’d intended. Her slight flinch impacted on him in the same unwelcome place. She didn’t move immediately, and Zac paced forward and pulled out a chair, not liking it that she looked paler now. ‘Sit. Before you fall down.’
He found himself pouring her a glass of water before he’d even registered the impulse. He handed it to her and she looked up at him as she took it, some colour returning to her cheeks.
‘There’s no need to talk to me like a dog, and I’m not some wilting lily.’
With any other woman Zac would have been horrified at his behaviour, but this was her. She was as low as they came. He went back around his desk and sat down, loosening his tie and opening the top button of his shirt, feeling constricted. It was time to assess exactly what he was dealing with.
‘I presume you signed a contract?’
The colour in her cheeks made something ease inside Zac. He told himself it was satisfaction that she’d decided not to try and play him with some meek little act. Good—he wanted her feisty and showing her true colours. So that it wouldn’t be hard to remember the sheer gall it had taken for her to sell her virginity and her womb to the highest bidder.
She took a sip of water. When she looked at him again she seemed to square her shoulders, as if preparing for battle. He told himself grimly that she didn’t even know what a battle was yet.
‘Well?’ he rapped out, impatient.
She swallowed, the movement of her throat drawing his eye down to where he could see the hollow just above her collarbone. He remembered tracing that hollow, tasting it with his tongue... And suddenly the irritation was joined by a rush of lust so intense that Zac was glad he was sitting down.
He hated himself for the desire to let his eyes linger on her. She was beautiful enough to hurt, with rose-gold tendrils of hair escaping to frame that treacherous face. Damn, but he ached to be close to her again, remembering all too easily how it had felt to thrust into that tight embrace.
He couldn’t believe it. Even after the worst betrayal his libido had no issues with this treacherous woman. All he felt was pure base need. Regardless of who she was and what she’d done. It killed him to know that his own body could perpetuate the betrayal.
‘I can’t tell you anything,’ she answered.
It took a moment for her words to sink in, and then anger propelled Zac up out of his chair. He paced away from the desk—away from her. Not many people had the nerve to stonewall him, and he almost felt a grudging respect.
But when he turned to her again he just said coldly, ‘Can’t? You mean won’t.’
Distaste for everything she represented and her obvious collusion with his grandmother made him realise very quickly that he had to seize control of this situation.
As if she could sense what was coming, she asked him, ‘Why are you looking at me like that?’
There was the faintest tremor in her voice but Zac told himself it was just fear, because on some level she had to suspect now that she would not win against him.
‘I’m taking full responsibility for my actions. Starting now.’
‘What do you mean?’
He looked at her, tightening every muscle in his body against the effect she had on him even now. ‘What I mean, my sweet, poisonous Rose, is that I’m going into damage limitation mode and you’re coming with me.’
Rose stood up from the chair, her bag dropping to the ground, the glass still in her hand. ‘What are you talking about?’
Zac savoured the look of growing panic on her face.
‘I’m talking about the fact that I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure this baby is not subjected to the Lyndon-Holt legacy.’
He noticed that she blanched, clearly seeing her payday in jeopardy.
‘But...but you can’t do that. I’m the baby’s mother. I have the right to decide what happens to my baby.’
Her words impacted on him forcibly.
My baby.
His baby.
He was going to be a father. It was finally sinking in on a very real level.
A surge of something completely alien rose up and surprised him with its force. He realised it was a sense of possessiveness. Protectiveness. And this feeling merely solidified his resolve.
‘It’s also my baby—or have you forgotten that pertinent detail?’ He didn’t wait for an answer. ‘This baby will be a Valenti, mark my words. And I will do whatever it takes to make that happen.’
He read the very definite flare of panic in those expressive green eyes, and saw her hand tighten so much around the glass that her knuckles turned white. In an instant he was beside her, without even realising he’d taken the decision to move. He took the glass out of her hand and put it down, angry at his impulsive reaction.
When he saw how pale she was he had to fight back the strangest instinct to reassure her. Coming on the heels of that sense of protectiveness for his unborn child, it was almost a mockery. He had to remember who she was, and that she was mercenary enough to get pregnant in order to feather her nest.
CHAPTER SIX
THIS BABY WILL be a Valenti, mark my words.
Rose was reeling. This wasn’t what she’d expected at all. She’d expected Zac’s anger and hostility, yes, but then she’d expected him to kick her out of his office, telling her he never wanted to see her again or hear about the baby.
Yet now he was saying...he wanted this baby? Her initial reaction to that was panic. If Mrs Lyndon-Holt believed for a second that she was reneging on the contract then surely she would yank her father out of that medical clinic so fast their heads would be spinning...
But along with the panic was something else...something far more disturbing... A sense of relief that Zac wasn’t rejecting his child out of hand. And that rocked Rose to the core, because she realised she hadn’t truly allowed herself to imagine that he would want to acknowledge his child.
Zac was suddenly too close. His scent was winding around Rose, eclipsing what he was saying. Almost eclipsing the turmoil she was desperately trying to hide from him. She couldn’t seem to think straight and she took a step back, as if some space between them might help.
Zac, oblivious to the real reaso
ns for her inner tumult, said mockingly, ‘No need to look so worried. Thanks to the cargo you carry, your future is guaranteed to be comfortable no matter what happens. But I will be controlling this situation from now on.’
Rose felt uncomfortably as if she’d jumped from the frying pan into the fire. ‘What do you mean?’
His gaze narrowed on her again, making her skin prickle. ‘This is already all over the press, and until I know what I’m dealing with I’m keeping you where I can see you. You’re not leaving my sight. You’ll be moving into my apartment today.’
She sputtered ineffectually. ‘But that’s ridiculous! You can’t just keep me there. I have jobs. I live in Queens.’
Zac shook his head. ‘Not any more. Where I go, you go.’
Rose felt all her blood drain south. The walls of the office seemed to be drawing closer, even though they were made of glass. ‘We’re not living in the medieval ages. You can’t force me to do this—it’ll be kidnap.’
He just looked at her with ice in his eyes. ‘It won’t be kidnap, sweetheart—far from it. You’re moving up in life...just like you planned when you walked into that function room with every intention of seducing me into your virginal bed.’
* * *
A few hours later Rose was standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows in Zac’s apartment, looking out over the view. She dimly registered that she’d seen it at all times of the day now: morning, afternoon, dusk and night.
Before, it had felt like a privileged view on the world. Now... The windows might as well have had bars on them. Because she was in a veritable prison.
The only thing that had stopped her running from Zac’s office earlier, as fast as she could, was the unwelcome realisation that if she did he would just find her and bring her back. And also, as much as he obviously didn’t trust her and wanted to keep an eye on her, she needed to keep an eye on him.
She was afraid he’d do something that would jeopardise the care of her father, and until that operation happened she couldn’t take that risk. Not when her father was so close to being made well again.
Self-recrimination blasted her. She’d put herself and her baby squarely in the middle of a bitter battle between Zac and his mother. The sheer enormity of the consequences of her actions was almost too huge to bear at that moment, and Rose struggled to regain the sense of control that was fast shattering around her. As if she’d ever had any control over this situation...
‘Trying to scheme your way out of this predicament?’
She tensed at Zac’s deep voice and marvelled that such a big man could move so silently. She didn’t look at him as he came and stood beside her. She was afraid he might see how dangerously vulnerable she felt right now.
‘It would appear as if I don’t have much choice except to stay here for now,’ she said tautly.
The extent and speed with which Zac had set about taking control of her life shouldn’t have shocked her. Rose had a sense that whatever ruthlessness she’d seen in his mother was about to pale into insignificance next to his iron will.
‘No, you don’t have much choice.’
Rose glanced at him briefly, but it was enough to take in that gloriously masculine beauty. He’d changed out of his suit into more casual clothes. Trousers and a long-sleeved polo shirt.
She looked away again and swallowed. Her voice was husky. ‘Apparently not.’
As much as she didn’t want to acknowledge it, because she was sure it was one-sided, she could feel the hum of electricity between them. And a coil of tension, deep in her core, that tightened with every tiny move Zac made.
She could see him now in her peripheral vision, arms folded, leaning nonchalantly against the glass. Exactly like he had that last afternoon. The sense of déjà vu was instant and vivid, bringing her right back to a time when she’d been trembling all over with anticipation.
‘Why did you do it, Rose?’
His words caught her somewhere between the past and the present and she looked at him, confused for a moment. ‘Why did I do what?’
Anger darkened his face. ‘You know very well what.’ He sent an expressive look down to her belly and suddenly the present rushed back. He looked at her face again. ‘Was it something you came up with when you heard other staff at the house gossiping? Did you figure you had a chance to catch my eye? And so you went to your boss with an audacious plan to get pregnant with the next in line to the Lyndon-Holt fortune, scoring yourself a lifetime of idle luxury as a result?’
She felt sick. ‘I’ve told you—it wasn’t like that.’
Zac seemed to consider this for a second and then he nodded his head minutely. ‘Perhaps not...’ Rose’s hopes soared for a second—until he said, ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if it was her idea. An idea you were happy to capitalise on—’
‘Stop,’ Rose said, facing him directly. ‘I’ve already said that I can’t tell you anything.’
She felt too hot under that incisive blue gaze. As if he was mentally stripping her bare, just as he’d done physically that day. Laying her on his bed, telling her to ‘lie down, sweetheart’, before shattering her world to pieces—literally and figuratively.
Anger that he’d been able to seduce her so easily made her lash out now. ‘There were two of us there. I asked you to protect us.’
Zac’s mouth flattened to a thin line and he straightened from his nonchalant stance. ‘Don’t think for a second I’m not taking full responsibility for my actions. I’m well aware that we made love again without protection, and I will deal with the consequences.’
Rose’s hand went to her belly. ‘This baby is not a consequence.’
Zac looked derisory. ‘You’re telling me that this baby is more than just a means to an end for you? Please don’t insult my intelligence.’
Rose’s vision was blurring...with anger, she told herself. Anger was good. Because if she didn’t focus on the anger she was afraid she might go to pieces.
‘This baby is not just a means to an end.’ Suddenly something snapped inside her. Something she’d been suppressing. It rose up—an awful compulsion to know—and before she could stop herself she was blurting out, ‘That night we first met you acted like it meant something...like it wasn’t usual for you.’
Zac’s whole form went still. His face was a smooth mask, telling her nothing. Already Rose was cursing herself for having said anything. But it was too late. He was moving...coming closer with dangerously lithe grace.
He came so close that she had to tilt her head to look up at him, and she could see the flinty chips of ice blue in his eyes, the darker ring around his irises.
Quietly he said, ‘Oh, it meant something, all right.’
Her heart jumped. He lifted a hand and traced the line of her jaw with a finger, so lightly she could barely feel it, but it burned like a brand. She tingled, nerve endings snapping and sizzling. The past was coming dangerously close to the present again...
His gaze moved from her mouth, where it had dropped, back up to her eyes. ‘Do you want to know what it meant?’
Rose nodded, even though she knew she should know better. It wasn’t going to be good.
‘It meant that you piqued my interest—which is exactly what you set out to do. The fact that we had amazing mutual chemistry only made your job easier.’
Rose opened her mouth to protest again, but Zac put his thumb over her lips, stopping her from speaking.
When had he moved so close that his body was brushing hers? Rose couldn’t think straight... Zac’s thumb was moving back and forth now, over her mouth, and his eyes were on her there. Hot. Desirous.
‘Do you know what it also meant?’
She couldn’t move. He sounded as if he was talking to himself.
And then he said, ‘It meant this...’
Before Rose could rea
ct Zac had hauled her into his body, snaking his arm around her waist, and his mouth was crashing down on hers. Four months of aching exploded inside Rose as she found herself not hesitating for a second, responding as if the past and present had indeed meshed and there was only this...blissful sensation of coming home.
* * *
Zac knew that he hadn’t intended to kiss Rose for any other reason except to prove a point. When she’d looked at him and asked so earnestly if it had ‘meant something’ fury had risen up. She was still trying to play him...
But as soon as his mouth touched hers, as soon as those soft curves slotted into his harder planes and muscles, his motivation grew hazy and his severely frustrated libido snapped and growled, seeking only pleasure and satisfaction.
Rose twined her arms around his neck, hitching her chest closer to his. Were her breasts bigger? He itched to cup one, test its weight and firmness. His hand rose, skimming over her hip and waist... And it was that evidence of her thickening body that finally managed to bring him back from the roaring brink.
Not because his desire was doused—if anything his blood had got even hotter—but because this was only meant to be a lesson, and he was in danger of losing it all over again.
* * *
Zac pulled back from Rose so abruptly she was left clutching at air. She opened dazed eyes to find him standing a few feet away, looking at her. Her mouth was still open, fire was in her blood...but when she registered that he was looking at her as if he’d just been reading the paper, not a hair out of place, she cursed herself for a fool.
She shut her mouth and wrapped her arms around herself, hating that her breathing was so rough and that her nipples were still hard, stinging. Betraying her weakness.
‘What was that in aid of?’ At least she sounded cooler than she felt.
His jaw was like granite. ‘You asked what it “meant,” the night we met and our subsequent meeting. It meant we had physical chemistry, pure and simple. It meant I wanted to get you into my bed. And that even though I was unaware of your agenda the end result would have been the same.’
