‘Are you two back together?’
‘We’ll talk in the morning.’
‘Are you back together?’
The endless silence before he spoke was louder than his words.
‘Emma, it’s complicated….’
‘Yes or no?’
There was the longest pause. ‘Yes.’
Which still didn’t answer her question. It was unfathomable to her that after the most breathtaking lovemaking, after all that had been said, he could within a matter of hours simply walk away.
‘Is she pregnant?’ It was an arrogant question, but it was all she could think of, all that could rationalise such a rapid demise.
‘No.’ Zarios looked her in the eyes and lied. Lied because they had to be over. Lied because he wouldn’t do it to his child—could never let it be said, even to himself, that it was the only reason he was with its mother.
‘Miranda and I have been together a long time—four months,’ Zarios added. And Emma suddenly felt as if her mother was in the room with her, recalling the sun-drenched evening and how they had laughed. The perfect answer was there for the taking, but she chose not to use it. ‘Emma, what happened that morning…’
He closed his eyes; she could see his face screwed up in concentration as he tried to find the words, but rather than wait for his paltry summing up, she found words for him.
‘Was just a bit of fun.’
He frowned before he opened his eyes again. Clearly her response was the last thing he’d been expecting, but Emma was hurting so badly that there was plenty to go around, so instead of humiliating herself, instead of letting him think she’d once wanted him, she told him otherwise. She was more than willing to grate off a piece of her raw bruised heart and let him sample the pain—let him take a sip of the humiliation he’d force-fed her.
‘Emma, you know that’s not the case.’
The acrid bitter taste of humiliation was choking her. She had lost not just her parents that day, but the man she’d glimpsed loving, too.
‘Oh, come on, Zarios, my mother would never have forgiven me if I hadn’t at least attempted to flirt with you.’ She stared through the darkness towards him. ‘The great Zarios D’Amilo, coming to my house for a party. My business almost in tatters. It would have been almost criminally irresponsible for me not to at least try…’ And there it was, the tiniest swallow in his olive throat that told her that maybe, just maybe, he believed her. It was enough to make her go on. ‘So you went back to Miranda—oh, well, you can’t blame a girl for trying. Anyway, you know how the saying goes—rich men are like buses; if you miss one, there will be two more following shortly behind.’
Silence hissed in the air. Emma knew she had gone too far, but it was too late to attempt retrieval, and right now she simply didn’t care.
‘Just leave, Zarios.’
‘You shouldn’t be on your own.’
‘Then I’ll ring someone I want to have here.’
‘Well—’ his voice was crisp and businesslike, but the contempt in his eyes would surely stay with her for ever ‘—I’m glad we both understand each other.’
‘Me, too.’
It was Zarios who had the final word.
‘I wouldn’t waste your time on your artwork, Emma. After your performance in the summerhouse you should try your hand at acting. For a minute there I actually believed you were different.’
CHAPTER SIX
PRIVATELY Emma had often wondered how Jake would cope in a real crisis—the answer had surprised her.
He had dealt with everything—and not just the practical—had offered endless support as Emma struggled just to function. He had dealt with the rapid sale of her parents’ house when, two days after the funeral, a generous offer had come up to buy it, furnishings and all. And Jake had offered wise counsel when, on a particularly unbearable night, she’d confided to him what had happened with Zarios.
‘You’re best out of it, Em…’ He had held her hand and said all the right things. ‘Whatever he’s got going on with Miranda is just to keep the board of directors happy—it will be over in a few weeks.’
And he had been right.
Two weeks before the board’s decision and Zarios was again in the newspapers—but for all the wrong reasons.
She’d read about him—unable to help herself—with a morbid curiosity, scanning the magazines and newspapers.
D’Amilo Financiers shareholders were bracing themselves for the announcement, its share price hovering as the financial world held its collective breath and awaited details on the company’s new direction. For a while Zarios had managed to behave. Emma had winced at every photo of him walking hand in hand with Miranda, hopping on a plane and joining her in Brazil on a photo-shoot. His spin doctors had been working overtime, almost managing to convince the world that Zarios D’Amilo had changed—that this leopard now wore different spots.
Till last week.
No comment had been offered from Camp Zarios when Miranda had been dumped at the eleventh hour, just two weeks short of his father’s retirement. The papers were ablaze with the scandal, the share price had tumbled, and even the gossip magazines wavered in their dogged devotion to Zarios.
After all, Emma thought, her lips curling in distaste as she’d read on, what reputable magazine could favourably report on a man who would end a relationship when he found out Miranda was unable to bear children?
Zarios, as Miranda had tearfully revealed to the enthralled media, having sold her story for a record sum, had wanted a child, an heir, and had refused to commit to marriage until she became pregnant. Tests had recently revealed that she was infertile, and there were photos of the two of them coming out of the specialist fertility department at a top Melbourne hospital—Zarios looking boot-faced, Miranda in floods of tears.
And, Emma had noticed with loathing, he wasn’t even holding her hand.
Jake had been right—she was best out of it. And then suddenly her brother had changed his mind.
Arriving at her door a couple of nights ago, grey and ashen, suddenly Jake had insisted that she went to Zarios for help.
Emma felt nauseous at the mere recollection of the desperate conversation she had shared with her brother that night.
‘You hit Beth?’ she had asked, appalled at her brother’s confession.
‘I pushed her…’ Jake was as irritated as Emma was horrified. ‘And she fell. I was just trying to get past and she was in the way. Look, Em…’in an attempt to soften her, Jake reverted to her childhood nickname ‘…how can I walk in now and tell Beth I’ve lost the house? She’s already threatening to leave. Surely Zarios owes you after what he did to you? You can sweet-talk him into a loan.’
‘He’s not going to pay off your gambling debts.’
‘Tell him it’s for you! Tell him that your business is in trouble—tell him anything, just keep me out of it. He’d never agree for me. He knows our parents’ house had been sold, that the money’s practically in the bank—it’s just till Mum and Dad’s money comes through.’
‘Even if he did give me a loan, which is highly unlikely, what are you going to tell Beth? How are you going to explain it in a couple of weeks’ time, when you have to pay me back?’
‘Things will be calmer then,’ Jake said. ‘If I tell her now, she’ll walk. She’ll take out a restraining order and I won’t see the kids.’
‘What if I go with you and speak to the bank? Maybe if you can sign a guarantee that the money’s coming.’
‘The guys I’m dealing aren’t going to wait for the bank to make up their mind, Em. I need…’ Jake gulped as he told her the appalling figure—he needed nearly one million dollars by the close of business tomorrow. ‘Every day that passes it goes up more…’
Those poor kids…Emma almost wept as she pictured Harriet’s and Connor’s innocent, trusting faces. Poor Beth, too. God alone knew what she must be putting up with.
What would her parents want her to do?
‘I can
’t take this much longer, Emma.’
There was her answer. So now, with Jake’s veiled threat still ringing in her ears, for the first time since her parents’ funeral Emma dressed carefully.
But it took for ever.
Since their death it had felt as if her brain was working in slow motion. Her stomach was knotted in constant tension and the simplest decision took for ever to make: which shoes to wear, hair up or down, even whether to apply make-up—all required a mammoth effort, one she didn’t want to make. And she’d never thought she would be making it for Zarios.
The putrid words of their last conversation still rang in her ears at times. She hated what she’d said to him, but hated what he’d done to her even more. She could see clearly how he’d used her that weekend—she’d been nothing more than a small diversion in an otherwise boring weekend. Emma had played with the big boys, she realised, and only had herself to blame for getting well and truly burnt.
And now she had to face him. Had to swallow her pride and ask the snake for help.
Which was easier said than done. His work life, as Emma had found out when she had tried to contact him, was as capricious as his personal life—Rome one week, Singapore the next. He was flying from his office in Sydney down to Melbourne today, Emma had discovered on her third attempt to contact him, and surprisingly he’d agreed to meet her—or rather his secretary had arranged an appointment for 2:00 p.m. the following day, which had given her twenty-four hours to change her mind.
As if she had a choice.
She frowned at her dressing table as if it belonged to someone else, noticing that her hand was shaking as she stroked her make-up brush into powder. The two pink dots that appeared on her cheeks were just too much against her pale complexion and Emma wiped them off with a tissue, giving up on her face and grabbing her bag instead, clipping down the steep stairs of her flat. What the hell was the point of wearing make-up anyway? Nothing was going to disguise her humiliation—nothing was going to mask the shame of going to Zarios with a begging bowl in her hand.
‘My appointment was at two.’ Emma tried to keep the slightly desperate note from her voice. ‘It’s almost three now.’
The receptionist gave her a pussycat smile, which without words told Emma in no uncertain terms that she was more than capable of telling the time. ‘Mr D’Amilo is an extremely busy man. As I’ve said, I’ll inform you as soon as he’s ready to see you.’
Not that busy!
Strolling through the lavish foyer, Zarios looked completely refreshed and relaxed after his extended lunch. Maybe it had something to do with the company he was keeping.
A well-groomed brunette was beside him, hanging on his every word, laughing at whatever it was that Zarios had just said.
Emma had forgotten just how beautiful he really was. In the past few weeks, whenever her mind had drifted to him, or she’d read about his heartless, torrid break-up with Miranda, somehow her mind had managed to distort his image to almost devil-like proportions, marring his beauty perhaps to shield herself. But seeing him now, breathtakingly elegant in a charcoal-grey suit, his shirt gleaming white against his olive skin, there was no denying his beauty. He’d had his hair cut, those jet locks cropped closely to his head, which made him look more menacing and somehow more striking, if that were possible. Seeing him in the flesh even more than two months on had Emma’s stomach curling—not at what she must now ask, but at what they had once shared.
When he spoke briefly to his receptionist, Emma was unclear whether she had let him know that his 2:00 p.m. appointment was waiting, because Zarios didn’t even deign to give her a glance. Instead he headed towards the lifts and disappeared, leaving Emma more intimidated than ever at the prospect of what lay ahead.
It was another ten minutes till she was directed to his floor.
And another half an hour spent sitting in another waiting room—albeit a lavish one.
The groomed brunette must be his personal assistant, Emma realised, when she brought her an extremely welcome glass of iced water and peered at her from her desk when she thought Emma wasn’t looking. Emma bit her lip as she awaited her fate, and then, with just an hour till the office building closed, the intercom buzzed and the snooty brunette finally gave her a nod. She was shown through.
‘You wanted to see me.’ There was no small talk, no apology for the delay. He curtly gestured for her to take a seat, his face utterly unreadable as tentatively she nodded.
‘Regarding?’
He certainly wasn’t making this easy.
‘It’s difficult…’ Emma attempted.
‘Then let me help you. We slept together approximately two months ago, and now you urgently need to meet with me—I can hazard a guess—’
‘No!’ Emma interrupted. The arrow he had shot had missed its mark, skimming over her shoulder surely to be forgotten. Except a sound resonated, a small hollow summons to tell her that somewhere it had hit a mark. But with a determined, irritated shake of her head she ignored it. ‘I got my period on the day of my parents’ funeral. That’s not the reason I called.’ Only now did he frown. Only now did he seem curious as to why she might be here. ‘I wanted to see you about the release of my parents’ money.’
‘Of course!’ Zarios gave a tight smile. ‘Silly me for assuming otherwise!’
Emma ran a dry tongue over even dryer lips, embarrassment stinging every pore at his implication, regretfully acknowledging that after their bitter parting he was right to think as he did. She forced herself to continue. ‘The house has been sold…’
‘I believe so.’
‘The thing is…’ She blew a breath skywards, but her fringe barely moved; it was plastered to her moist forehead. ‘I need access to my share of the funds now.’
‘Now?’
‘Yes. Today.’ She watched his eyebrows rise just a fraction.
‘Can I ask why you need money so quickly?’
‘No.’ She choked the single word out, then, clearing her throat, said it more firmly. ‘No. I’d rather not say, but as soon as the sale of the house goes through I will repay the money. It would just be a loan until then.’
‘I can see that a lot of work has gone into your proposal!’
His sarcasm, though merited, wasn’t exactly helping. ‘I realise it can’t look good, me just walking in and asking for money. But I have my reasons, and the inheritance—’
‘I can’t help you.’ He interrupted her, shaking his head.
‘Please.’ She hated that she was reduced to begging, but she had no choice. ‘Zarios, please. You’re the only person who has access to that type of funds…’
‘Not quite…’ He flashed a mirthless smile. ‘Have you ever heard of banks?’ Tears pricked her eyes as he savagely continued. ‘If you are so convinced it is just a short-term loan, that in two weeks you can repay, then you should have no trouble securing a bridging loan. Of course a bank would want to know where the money was going, why a twenty-five-year-old woman needs access to such a sum of money at such short notice. Have you even tried the banks?’
She tried to say no, but the word wouldn’t come out. Emma settled instead for a tiny shake of her head.
‘Then am I right in assuming that is because you couldn’t suitably answer their questions?’
Oh, how he must be enjoying this, Emma thought, the tears in her eyes drying as she stared at him across the desk, their mutual contempt meeting in the middle.
‘Anyway,’ he continued when she didn’t answer, still holding her stare, ‘even if I wanted to help you I could not.’ He gave a dismissive shrug. ‘There’s a potential conflict of interest. I have excused myself from the board in regard to the execution of your parents’ estate.’
‘That’s not what I’m asking…’
‘I know that!’ Zarios sneered. ‘You are playing on the fact that we once slept together.’
‘No!’ Emma quivered. ‘I’m pleading to you as a friend of the family.’
‘Did you approach m
y father with your request?’ Zarios snapped his very good point out. ‘Of course not!’
‘You know,’ he continued bitterly, ‘he said I was overreacting when I removed myself from having any dealings with your parents’ estate.’ He stood up, clearly ending the meeting. ‘Clearly I was right to follow my instincts.’
‘You’ll get it back…’ Tears were streaming down her cheeks unchecked now. The thought of telling Jake, the thought of him telling Beth, the horrible reality of it all was unbearably close now, making her desperate. But her tears didn’t move him. If anything they just compounded his disdain. ‘I’ll sign anything—the day the exchange happens you’ll get the money back…’
‘If you’ll excuse me?’ He glanced at his watch and pressed a button on his phone. ‘I’m running behind schedule.’ He smiled as his secretary opened the door, gave her a sort of wide-eyed look that acknowledged yet another tearful woman was leaving the building, and asked if she could please arrange that it was done quietly. ‘Could you show Ms Hayes to the lift, please?’
As easily as that he dismissed her. His cold eyes made it clear there would be no further discussion, and the distaste was evident in the set of his face as he held open the door.
And who could blame him for what he must be thinking? Emma thought as the lift plummeted downwards—her parents were barely cold in their grave and she wanted her hands on their money with no questions asked, if that could possibly be arranged!
Clearly it couldn’t.
She could feel her phone vibrating in her bag, knew it was Jake. For a tiny second she was almost relieved. Relieved that she couldn’t help him. Relieved that the problem was no longer hers…
But then she heard his voice.
‘Maybe Beth will understand…’ Emma attempted as she told him the hard news. ‘Maybe it’s time to come clean, Jake—time to lay it all out in the open…’
‘It’s not what Beth’s going to say that I’m worried about.’ She could hear the fear in her brother’s voice. ‘Oh, God, what have I done, Em?’ He was sobbing so hard he could barely get the words out. ‘I can’t face this! What are they going to do to me? What if they turn on her, on the kids? I’d be better off out of it.’
Bedded for Passion, Purchased for Pregnancy Page 6
