by Maya Blake
‘In that case, I think you ought to stop distracting me so I can get on with making myself beautiful for you.’ She hoped her smile looked as brittle as it felt. That her intention to end this was clear for him to see. ‘Or was there something in particular you wanted?’
His eyes held hers for another electrifying second before he released her. ‘I came to inform you that your belongings have been unpacked.’ He surveyed the room, his gaze taking in the organised chaos. ‘And to enquire whether you wish to have lunch with me or whether you want lunch brought to you so you can push through?’ He turned back to her, his gaze mockingly stating that he knew her choice before she responded.
She lifted her chin. ‘Seeing as this makeover was a complete surprise that I’d have to make time for, we’ll take lunch in here, please.’
He ignored her censorious tone and nodded. ‘Your wish is my command, dolcezza. But I insist you be done by dinnertime. I detest eating alone.’
She bit her tongue against a sharp retort. The cheek of him, making demands on her time when he’d been the one to call in the stylists in the first place! She satisfied herself with glaring at his back as he walked out, his tall, imposing figure owning every square inch of space he prowled.
* * *
The women left three excruciating hours later. The weak sun was setting in grey skies by the time Eva dragged her weary body across the vast hallway towards the suite she’d occupied last night. Her newly washed and styled hair bounced in silky waves down her back and her face tingled pleasantly from the facial she’d received before the barely there make-up had been applied.
The cashmere-soft, scooped-neck grey dress caressed her hips and thighs as she approached her door. She’d worn it only because Vivian had insisted. Eva hadn’t had the heart to tell her she intended to leave every single item untouched. But Eva couldn’t deny that the off-shoulder, floor-length dress felt elegant and wonderful and exactly what she’d have chosen to wear for dinner. Even if it was a dinner she wasn’t looking forward to.
Her new four-inch heels clicked on the marble floor as she opened the double doors and stopped. Her hands flew to cover her mouth as she surveyed the room. Surprise was followed a few seconds later by a tingle of awareness that told her she was no longer alone.
Even then, she couldn’t look away from the sight before her.
‘Is something wrong?’ Zaccheo’s enquiry made her finally turn.
He was leaning against the door frame, his hands tucked into the pockets of his black tailored trousers. The white V-necked sweater caressed his muscular arms and shoulders and made his grey eyes appear lighter, almost eerily silver. His slightly damp hair gleamed a polished black against his shoulders and his beard lent him a rakish look that was absolutely riveting.
His gaze caught and held hers for several seconds before conducting a detailed appraisal over her face, hair and down her body that made the tingling increase. When his eyes returned to hers, she glimpsed a dark hunger that made her insides quake.
Swallowing against the pulse of undeniable attraction, she turned back to survey the room.
‘I can’t believe everything’s been arranged so precisely,’ she murmured.
‘You would’ve preferred that they fling your things around without thought or care?’
‘That’s not what I mean and you know it. You’ve reproduced my room almost exactly how it was before.’
He frowned. ‘I fail to see how that causes you distress.’
She strolled to the white oak antique dresser that had belonged to her mother. It’d been her mother’s favourite piece of furniture and one of the few things Eva had taken when she’d left Pennington Manor.
Her fingers drifted over the hairbrush she’d used only yesterday morning. It had been placed in the little stand just as she normally did. ‘I’m not distressed. I’m a little disconcerted that my things are almost exactly as I left them at my flat yesterday morning.’ When he continued to stare, she pursed her lips. ‘To reproduce this the movers would’ve needed photographic memories.’
‘Or a few cameras shots as per my instructions.’
She sucked in a startled breath. ‘Why would you do that?’
His lashes swept down for a moment. Then he shrugged. ‘It was the most efficient course of action.’
‘Oh.’ Eva wasn’t sure why she experienced that bolt of disappointment. Was she stupid enough to believe he’d done that because he cared? That he’d wanted her to be comfortable?
She silently scoffed at herself.
Lending silly daydreams to Zaccheo’s actions had led to bitter disappointment once before. She wasn’t about to make the same mistake again.
She spotted her handbag on the bed and dug out her phone. The battery was almost depleted, but she could make a quick call to her father before it died. She started to press dial and realised Zaccheo hadn’t moved.
‘Did you need something?’
The corner of his mouth quirked, but the bleakness in his eyes didn’t dissipate. ‘I’ve been in jail for over a year, dolcezza. I have innumerable needs.’ The soft words held a note of deadly intent as his gaze moved from her to the bed. Her heart jumped to her throat and the air seemed to evaporate from the room. ‘But my most immediate need is sustenance. I’ve ordered dinner to be brought from upstairs. It’ll be here in fifteen minutes.’
She managed to reply despite the light-headedness that assailed her. ‘Okay. I’ll be there.’
With a curt nod, he left.
Eva sagged sideways onto the bed, her grip on the phone tightening until her bones protested. In the brief weeks she’d dated Zaccheo a year and half ago, she’d seen the way women responded to his unmistakeable animal magnetism. He only needed to walk into the room for every female eye to zero in on him. She’d also witnessed his reaction. Sometimes he responded with charm, other times with arrogant aloofness. But always with an innate sexuality that spoke of a deep appreciation for women. She’d confirmed that appreciation by a quick internet search in a weak moment, which had unearthed the long list of gorgeous women he’d had shockingly brief liaisons with in the past. A young, virile, wealthy bachelor, he’d been at the top of every woman’s ‘want to bed’ list. And he’d had no qualms about helping himself to their amorous attentions.
To be deprived of that for almost a year and a half...
Eva shivered despite the room’s ambient temperature. No, she was the last woman Zaccheo would choose to bed.
But then, he’d kissed her last night as if he’d wanted to devour her. And the way he’d looked at her just now?
She shook her head.
She was here purely as an instrument of his vengeance. The quicker she got to the bottom of that, the better.
Her call went straight to voicemail. Gritting her teeth, she left a message for her father to call her back. Sophie’s phone rang for almost a minute before Eva hung up. Whether her sister was deliberately avoiding her calls or not, Eva intended to get some answers before Monday.
Resolving to try again after dinner, Eva plugged in her phone to charge and left her room. She met two waiters wheeling out a trolley as she entered the dining room. A few seconds later, the front door shut and Eva fought the momentary panic at being alone with Zaccheo.
She avoided looking at his imposing body as he lifted the silver domes from several serving platters.
‘You always were impeccably punctual,’ he said without turning around.
‘I suppose that’s a plus in my favour.’
‘Hmm...’ came his non-committal reply.
She reached her seat and froze at the romantic setting of the table. Expensive silverware and crystal-cut glasses gleamed beneath soft lighting. And already set out in a bed of ice was a small silver tub of caviar. A bottle of champagne chilled in an ice stand next to Zaccheo’s chair.
She jumped when his warm breath brushed her ear. When had he moved so close?
‘Of course not. I just wasn’t expecting such an elaborate meal.’ She urged her feet to move to where he held out her chair, and sat down. ‘One would almost be forgiven for thinking you were celebrating something.’
‘Being released from prison isn’t reason enough to enjoy something better than grey slop?’
Mortified, she cursed her tactlessness. ‘I...of course. I’m sorry, that was... I’d forgotten...’ Oh, God, just shut up, Eva.
‘Of course you had.’
She tensed. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘You’re very good at putting things behind you, aren’t you? Or have you forgotten how quickly you walked away from me the last time, too?’
She glanced down at her plate, resolutely picked up her spoon and helped herself to a bite of caviar. The unique taste exploded on her tongue, but it wasn’t enough to quell the anxiety churning her stomach. ‘You know why I walked away last time.’
‘Do I?’
‘Yes, you do!’ She struggled to keep her composure. ‘Can we talk about something else, please?’
‘Why, because your actions make you uncomfortable? Or does it make your skin crawl to be sharing a meal with an ex-convict?’
Telling herself not to rise to the bait, she took another bite of food. ‘No, because you snarl and your voice turns arctic, and also because I think we have different definitions of what really happened.’
He helped himself to a portion of his caviar before he responded. ‘Really? Enlighten me, per favore.’
She pressed her lips together. ‘We’ve already been through this, remember? You admitted that you proposed to me simply to get yourself into the Old Boys’ Club. Are you going to bother denying it now?’
He froze for several heartbeats. Then he ate another mouthful. ‘Of course not. But I believed we had an agreement. That you knew the part you had to play.’
‘I’m sorry, I must have misplaced my copy of the Zaccheo Giordano Relationship Guide.’ She couldn’t stem the sarcasm or the bitterness that laced her voice.
‘You surprise me.’
‘How so?’ she snapped, her poise shredding by the second.
‘You’re determined to deny that you know exactly how this game is played. That you aristocrats haven’t practised the something-for-something-more tenet for generations.’
‘You seem to be morbidly fascinated with the inner workings of the peer class. If we disgust you so much, why do you insist on soiling your life with our presence? Isn’t it a bit convenient to hold us all responsible for every ill in your life?’
A muscle ticced in his jaw and Eva was certain she’d struck a nerve. ‘You think having my freedom taken away is a subject I should treat lightly?’
The trembling in her belly spread out to engulf her whole body. ‘The evidence led to your imprisonment, Zaccheo. Now we can change the subject or we can continue to fight to see who gives whom indigestion first.’
He remained silent for several moments, his eyes boring into hers. Eva stared back boldly, because backing down would see her swallowed whole by the deadly volcanic fury lurking in his eyes. She breathed a tiny sigh of relief when that mocking half-smile made an appearance.
‘As you wish.’ He resumed eating and didn’t speak again until their first course was done. ‘Let’s play a game. We’ll call it What If,’ he said into the silence.
Tension knotted her nape, the certainty that she was toying with danger rising higher. ‘I thought you didn’t like games?’
‘I’ll make an exception this time.’
She took a deep breath. ‘Okay. If you insist.’
‘What if I wasn’t the man you think I am? What if I happened to be a stranger who was innocent of everything he’s been accused of? What if that stranger told you that every day he’d spent in prison felt like a little bit of himself was being chipped away for ever? What would you say to him?’ His voice held that pain-laced edge she’d first heard in the car.
She looked at his face but his eyes were downcast, his white-knuckled hand wrapped around his wine glass.
This was no game.
The tension that gripped her vibrated from him, engulfing them in a volatile little bubble.
‘I’d tell you how sorry I was that justice wasn’t served properly on your behalf.’ Her voice shook but she held firm. ‘Then I’d ask you if there was anything I could do to help you put the past behind you.’
Arctic grey eyes met hers. ‘What if I didn’t want to put it behind me? What if everything I believe in tells me the only way to achieve satisfaction is to make those responsible pay?’
‘I’d tell you it may seem like a good course of action, but doing that won’t get back what you’ve lost. I’d also ask why you thought that was the only way.’
His eyes darkened, partly in anger, partly with anguish. She half expected him to snarl at her for daring to dissuade him from his path of retribution.
Instead, he rose and went to dish out their second course. ‘Perhaps I don’t know another recourse besides crime and punishment?’ he intoned, disturbingly calm.
Sorrow seared her chest. ‘How can that be?’
He returned with their plates and set down her second course—a lobster thermidor—before taking his seat. His movements were jerky, lacking his usual innate grace.
‘Let’s say hypothetically that I’ve never been exposed to much else.’
‘But you know better or you wouldn’t be so devastated at the hand you’ve been dealt. You’re angry, yes, but you’re also wounded by your ordeal. Believe me, yours isn’t a unique story, Zaccheo.’
He frowned at the naked bitterness that leaked through her voice. ‘Isn’t it? Enlighten me. How have you been wounded?’
She cursed herself for leaving the door open, but, while she couldn’t backtrack, she didn’t want to provide him with more ammunition against her. ‘My family...we’re united where it counts, but I’ve always had to earn whatever regard I receive, especially from my father. And it hasn’t always been easy, especially when walls are thrown up and alliances built where there should be none.’
He saw through her vagueness immediately. ‘Your father and your sister against your mother and you? There’s no need to deny it. It’s easy to see your sister is fashioning herself in the image of her father,’ he said less than gently.
Eva affected an easy shrug. ‘Father started grooming her when we were young, and I didn’t mind. I just didn’t understand why that meant being left out in the cold, especially...’ She stopped, realising just how much she was divulging.
‘Especially...?’ he pressed.
She gripped her fork tighter. ‘After my mother died. I thought things would be different. I was wrong.’
His mouth twisted. ‘Death is supposed to be a profound leveller. But it rarely changes people.’
She looked at him. ‘Your parents—’
‘Were the individuals who brought me into the world. They weren’t good for much else. Take from that what you will. We’re also straying away from the subject. What if this stranger can’t see his way to forgive and forget?’ That ruthless edge was back in his voice.
Eva’s hand shook as she picked up her glass of Chianti. ‘Then he needs to ask himself if he’s prepared to live with the consequences of his actions.’
His eyebrows locked together in a dark frown, before his lashes swept down and he gave a brisk nod. ‘Asked and answered.’
‘Then there’s no further point to this game, is there?’
One corner of his mouth lifted. ‘On the contrary, you’ve shown a soft-heartedness that some would see as a flaw.’
Eva released a slow, unste
ady breath. Had he always been like this? She was ashamed to admit she’d been so dazzled with Zaccheo from the moment he’d walked into Siren two years ago, right until the day he’d shown her his true colours, that she hadn’t bothered to look any deeper. He’d kissed her on their third date, after which, fearing she’d disappoint him, she’d stumblingly informed him she was a virgin.
His reaction had been something of a fairy tale for her. She’d made him out as her Prince Charming, had adored the way he’d treated her like a treasured princess, showering her with small, thoughtful gifts, but, most of all, his undivided time whenever they were together. He’d made her feel precious, adored. He’d proposed on their sixth date, which had coincided with his thirtieth birthday, and told her he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.
And it had all been a lie. The man sitting in front of her had no softness, only that ruthless edge and deadly charm.
‘Don’t be so sure, Zaccheo. I’ve learnt a few lessons since our unfortunate association.’
‘Like what?’
‘I’m no longer gullible. And my family may not be perfect, but I’m still fiercely protective of those I care about. Don’t forget that.’
He helped himself to his wine. ‘Duly noted.’ His almost bored tone didn’t fool her into thinking this subject had stopped being anything but volatile.
They finished their meal in tense silence.
Eva almost wilted in relief when the doorbell rang and Zaccheo walked away to answer it.
Catching sight of the time, she jumped up from the dining table and was crossing the living room when Zaccheo’s hand closed over her wrist.
‘Where do you think you’re going?’ he demanded.
‘Dinner’s over. Can you let me go, please? I need to get going or I’ll be late.’
His brows furrowed, giving him a look of a dark predator. ‘Late for what?’
‘Late for work. I’ve already taken two days off without pay. I don’t want to be late on top of everything else.’
‘You still work at Siren?’ His tone held a note of disbelief.
