Hot Tycoons Boxset: A Contemporary Romance Boxset

by Emelia Blair

  “Why not?” he asks, quietly. “You’ve worked your ass off to be where you are right now. Why shouldn’t you show it off?”

  The way he phrases it throws me off and I stare at him, bewildered, my protests stuck in my throat. “W-what?”

  He makes an impatient noise and puts down the fork. “You’ve singlehandedly raised our child. You jumpstarted a business venture. You’re doing well for yourself. Why aren’t you proud of all your achievements? I am.”

  “W-what?” I repeat, stupidly.

  Zayn is proud? Of me?

  What the hell for?

  I feel like I am being patronized and at the same time, I feel this tingling in my chest, one that I don’t want to put a name to.

  “I’m not ashamed of myself,” I say, finally, not knowing what else to say.

  “I didn’t say you’re ashamed,” he replies, and there is a gentleness to his tone that wasn’t there before and it makes me angry.

  It makes me angry because he’s being not Zayn and I don’t know how to handle this side of him that isn’t sarcastic or broody or arrogant.

  It makes me angry because I am starting to doubt this impression of Zayn that I have in my head, one that he is slowly tearing down over these past two weeks. Because if there is nothing left for me to resent, there is just wild lust and attraction and I don’t want to get into a relationship with him.

  No, I want to keep him at arm’s length.

  A vivid memory of being pushed against the wall, a threatening hand on my evident baby bump as crude words were panted into my ear.

  My hands tremble, and I hide them under the table.

  No, I am not ready for a relationship with anyone.

  Isn’t that why I worked myself to the bone to ensure that I never had to depend on anybody but myself? Isn’t that why I had casual sex sometimes just to handle the urges and never stayed the night?

  Isn’t that why I control every aspect of my life with such precision while maintaining my carefree mask, not even letting my closest friend penetrate past it to see the real me who trusts no one?

  In this world, I am the only one who can protect myself.

  I must have been drowning in my thoughts because Zayn clears his throat, making me jolt.

  “You’ve gone somewhere, Eve,” he says, almost accusingly.

  I tilt my chin up, my mask firmly back in place. “If you want to take Mila, you’re more than welcome to. I can’t commit to anything, however.”

  “Why not?” he asks simply.

  I gaze at him, trying to choose my words carefully. “I’m attempting to build a cordial relationship with you because you’re Mila’s father. I don’t want to get involved in any other aspect of your life.”

  His fingers steeple together and he stretches his long legs under the table as he watches me, a faint half smile on his lips. “Maybe we should talk about why you’re so willing to cast me as some proverbial villain. What exactly have I done that made you hate me so much?”

  Under his casual tone lays curiosity and puzzlement, as if he is trying to understand me and failing.

  I grit my teeth. “I don’t hate you.”

  His smile never shifts, although I see the way his eyes tighten as he says easily, “On the contrary, you do. You’ve never hidden it. What did I do to you that was so bad that you feel the need to make me out to be some sort of monster?”

  I gape at him and struggle to say something but nothing comes out.

  He continues, “If this is about me making out with a random girl in the club when you came to tell me about your pregnancy, every woman who came after you was a rebound. I regretted letting you slip from my fingers. But at the time, I was not somebody who was stable enough to be in a relationship. But had you told me, instead of leaving, I would have abandoned everything and stuck by your side. I would have gone to every doctor’s appointment. I would have been there for every midnight craving. Anything and everything, Eve.”

  There is fury in his eyes now. “But I would never have abandoned you.”

  My voice is almost small as I find myself quivering under the anger. “Why not?”

  There it is, that pained smile that he sometimes has on when he thinks I am not looking. “Because I was in love with you.”

  7

  Zayn

  Admitting my feelings to Eve was never part of my plan, but she is resisting me so strongly even though the chemistry between us is off the charts. Whatever holds her back, it is something more than just the idea of me.

  I love Eve.

  That is why I am so terrified of tainting her with what I am.

  But this woman who stares at me with an almost horrified expression etched on her face, she was broken and then she emerged from the ashes like a phoenix.

  She is so strong and yet so fragile, her fragility was something she chooses to hide under layers and layers, all of which I am determined to peel back. If I loved her before, I can’t help but be captivated by what she has become.

  “You loved me?” She sounds so stunned by the idea.

  “You’re a fascinating woman; you always have been. You were like a complex puzzle that I couldn’t solve. I craved you like a drug, but I made the conscious decision never to pursue you.”

  There it is, the tremble in her hand that she tries to hide from me.

  “Why?” She sounds so lost, so confused that I want to bundle her up in my arms.

  I didn’t predict this reaction from her.

  Maybe scorn, maybe calling me a liar, but not this shock and disbelief, almost as if she thinks she doesn’t deserve to be loved.

  That thought makes my eyes narrow in cold anger.

  In these five years, somebody hurt Eve, more than just physically, but emotionally, they scarred her, and while she tries to hide it from the world, she can never hide it from me.

  I spent these past two weeks, slowly getting under her defenses, showing myself to be so harmless that she can’t help but let her guard down. And right now, her expressions are so honest, so bewildered, that they hurt.

  “Because I wasn’t good for you,” I say simply. “I’m possessive, overprotective, a general asshole, and if I decided to keep you, I would have destroyed you. So, I chose to let you go.”

  Eve’s brow knits, and I see the flare of annoyance in her eyes now as she says, tightly, “I’m not a possession to keep or throw away.”

  “No, you’re not,” I agree. “I apologize for that.”

  She huffs, a little unsettled. “You should.”

  I can’t help but think how endearing she looks right now, trying to hold onto her anger and failing so utterly, a small frown on her face, and I try not to show my amusement. “I am.”

  She is quiet for a few seconds before she scowls. “I want to call you a liar but if I know one thing, it’s that you’re not a liar.”

  I inhale slowly, surprised at the hint of pleasure that despite her dislike of me, she holds such faith in my integrity. Keeping my voice smooth and low, I ask, “You haven’t answered my question. What is it about me that you despise so much?”

  She answers automatically. “You made a move on me the first time you came to see Mila. You saw me as someone who would just open her legs for you, someone convenient. It pisses me off that you couldn’t even respect me as your child’s mother.”

  Her face freezes as if the words are torn from her, and I still.

  Someone convenient?

  I see the slight panic on her face and know that she didn’t intend to tell me this.

  Reigning in my anger is a more difficult task than I predicted.

  “You are far from convenient, Eve. And I apologized for that.”

  She shakes her head, her jaw clenching as she comes to terms with that fact that this issue now has to be addressed. “Not for the kiss. You apologized for the moment. Nothing else.”

  I tilt my head, curious. “Is that what you want? An apology?”

  She glares at me, and I note that her hands are n
ow on the table, flexing in frustration. “No! Of course not.”

  “Then what do you want?” I ask calmly.

  Agitation clings to her skin, and I know there is another reason behind why she is resisting me, and she is trying her best to avoid it.

  Gone is the self-assurance that she wears so well. I am getting a glimpse of her true self, and I ache for it. I want to see this side of her that she never reveals to anyone else.

  It is almost a pity when she manages to get herself under control.

  “I don’t want a relationship with anybody,” she says, and although there is a desperate wildness in her eyes, a flicker of fear, her face is smooth, unsmiling.

  I sigh, straightening up. “I kissed you because you’re the one person who still manages to overwhelm me. And because you look so damn kissable. You’re the one person I would never play games with, and it goes beyond you being my child’s mother.” A small pause before I continue, my voice colors with conviction. “I’ve always respected you and admired you. And after seeing you now, my admiration has only risen.”

  The doubt in her eyes tells me that she has a hard time believing me.

  Such accusation brewing in those beautiful eyes.

  Insult and anger, a warring combination. Her chin is tilted, an unconscious challenge, her brown eyes boring into mine.

  I love that regal look. It reminds me of a warrior.

  Eve. My little warrior.

  However, I can tolerate a lot, but not this belief that she clings on to that I find her convenient and that is the only reason I kissed her.

  The idea enrages me.

  I meet her startled eyes with my blazing ones. “Why shouldn’t I want you in my life? I walked away from you once, and it’s something I’ll always regret. I can’t walk away again. I can’t settle for another woman. They’ll never match up to you, Eve. None of them ever did. So it’s you or no one else.”

  The stunned realization in her eyes pleases me, and our conversation is halted when Mila arrives, demanding food.

  I stare down at the baby as she sleeps in my arms.

  Alexandria.

  Such a mouthful of a name.

  Trust Philip to choose such an overambitious name.

  “Don’t worry, kid,” I assure her sleeping form. “I’ll always call you Alex. And I’ll beat up whoever bullies you because your dad is a pompous git.” As an afterthought, I add, “I might not be able to beat up kids but I’ll teach you how to kick them in the crotch. We’ll practice on your dad, first.”

  Charlotte snorts from where she is lying on the couch, the back of her hand over her eyes. “I’d like to see that.”

  She was so exhausted when I dropped by that I insisted on her laying down while I hold my little niece.

  “Are all babies this delicate?” I muse aloud, and Charlotte makes a sound.

  “That’s a stupid question.”

  “Would Mila have been this tiny?” The words are torn from my lips, and this time Charlotte removes her hand to eye me with something akin to sympathy.

  “Is it bothering you that you never got to know her as a baby?”

  I shrug, my eyes tracing Alex’s smooth face. “I just wonder if I would be a different person if I had the opportunity to be a father to her when she was born.”

  My relationship with Charlotte has always been one of understanding. She and I come from similar backgrounds, and whenever she is around, she offers a companionship that isn’t sisterly in feeling but that of a soldier who shared the same battlefield as me, who knows the stakes, who can see what the others can’t.

  Charlotte doesn’t say anything for a few moments, staring up at the ceiling for a few moments. “I would think so. Children have this ability to change you so drastically. I can see so many changes in Philip now that Alexandria is in our life.”

  I brood over the thought before saying, “Eve doesn’t trust me.”

  “Oh?”

  I frown. “At first she tried to blame my ‘playboy’ lifestyle. But it’s more than that.”

  “You mean the kiss?”

  “Yeah. She thinks I find her ‘convenient.’”

  Charlotte sits up, stretches, and then moves over to the kitchen to make some coffee. “An odd choice of word.”

  I move to Alex’s bassinet and place her in, gently, before returning to the armchair. “I think she’s scared of her feelings for me.”

  Charlotte throws me a sharp look over her shoulder. “You think she has feelings for you?”

  My eyes trace patterns across the wooden coffee table, idly, my brain working in overdrive as I try to solve this puzzle that is called Eve. “We always had a connection. She makes me feel human.”

  A cup of coffee is handed to me with a faint smile. “You are human, Zayn.”

  I glance at her, and our eyes meet and hold on for a few moments before she nods and takes her seat. “She calms you down. She calms down the thirst for violence inside you.”

  “It’s a gaping hole,” I find myself muttering. “So much emptiness and anger. So much noise in my head. She takes it away.”

  Memories of hands on my body.

  Me, defending myself.

  Strangers with leering looks on their faces approaching me as I huddle into a ball, trying to escape the nightmare.

  Charlotte sips at her coffee, not saying anything, just observing me.

  She went through similar circumstances. She knows what it was like. Or she knows what it was to see the nightmare and escape.

  The black-haired boy with terrified blue eyes has never managed to escape. He was tormented, abused, broken.

  He endured.

  “I have nightmares sometimes,” Charlotte admits, softly. “But Philip chases them away. It’s like he wraps me in a cocoon of his love.”

  I stand up abruptly, feeling restless. “It’s more than that with Eve.”

  Prowling around the room, coffee forgotten on the table, I try to organize all these thoughts in my head. “She has this light inside her. I want it. I want her to look only at me. I want her to smile only at me. I want to hide her from the world and keep her for myself. All her smiles and laughter and tears, I want to monopolize her till I’m all she thinks about. I want her to be obsessed with me.”

  “Tad bit dark there, Zayn,” Charlotte comments wryly from over the top of her mug.

  I turn to face her, my expression strained. “I know. I know how it sounds. That’s why I tried to stay away from her before. But I see her now and my longing for her, it’s just more intense. I don’t want to destroy who she is. And I’m afraid that if I get her into my bed and into my life, I’ll crush her entirely.”

  Charlotte gives me a doubtful look. “That’s very presumptuous of you.”

  I blink.

  She brushes some lint off of her skirt before saying, “From what I heard of Eve, she’s smart, resourceful, and strong. None of these things just happen overnight, Zayn. The circumstances that made her so wary of relationships and you are also the circumstances that made her into the person she is today. She seems to have fought against the odds and survived.”

  Her smile is slow, containing a depth of knowledge that only women seem to possess. “Your Eve is a survivor.”

  Her words burn into my skull, and I spend the rest of the evening turning them over. Even when Philip finally comes home and starts grilling me about Mila and when they can meet her, I give absent-minded answers, my mind imagining Eve shrouded in darkness that screams of pain but burning with fire and determination.

  Charlotte has a point.

  Eve is a survivor.

  Maybe it is time I stop walking on eggshells around her.

  Four days have passed since my conversation with Charlotte.

  A week since that fateful breakfast with Eve and Mila where I ended up revealing more than I ever planned to.

  The airport is bustling with activity as I stride through the terminal, a wistful longing in my heart. I haven’t seen Eve in a week.


  Promoting my new club dragged me to New York. It was such an unexpected trip that I sent her a message telling her I would be in touch.

  The one phone call that I had with her was strained.

  Far too strained, I think grimly.

  I was in and out of meetings and events and missed most of my friends’ attempts to get in touch with me.

  Heaving a sigh, I walk towards the exit, wanting to hail a taxi and get home.

  A quick shower and then I want to see my little Mila. I’ve known her for so little time but I miss her.

  A smile tugs at my lips as I imagine her impatient excitement when I will give her the gifts I got her. I am just raising my hand for a taxi when I see a crumpled up newspaper on top of the trash bin.

  Ordinarily, it wouldn’t have warranted a second look, but the picture on it has my blood freezing and my feet move quickly to the trash and I snatch the paper, smoothing out the tabloid section of it.

  ‘Playboy Millionaire Moving in on Single Mom’

  A full-blown picture of Mila sitting in Eve’s lap as I watch Eve with an intense look is splashed over half the page. Anger, a shifting thing, almost a sentient being, moves through me as I skim the article, catching phrases like ‘unidentified bedmate’ and ‘little bit on the heavier side than his usual conquests.’

  My spine stiffens at the cruel remarks, and my lips pull back in a snarl.

  My eyes move swiftly to the name of the reporter.

  Frank M.

  This was published three days ago, the day I talked to Eve.

  Carefully folding the page, I tuck it into my back pocket, and as a taxi stops on the curb, I enter the car, ignoring the odor of cigarettes and sex that emanates from it.

  “Where to?” the man asks, looking at me from the rear view mirror, eyeing the small suitcase and then me, his yellow teeth, probably stained from nicotine, grimacing in a smile.

  It is evening.

  She must be home now.

  I rattle off Eve’s address and then lean back and stare outside, my face cold and set, my expression unreadable.