Читать книгу Billionaire Heirs: The Kyriakos Virgin Bride - Tessa Radley - Страница 11

The following day, a tentative knock roused Pandora from the doze she’d floated in for ages since dawn. Instantly awake, she swung her legs over the side of the bed, intensely aware of the slither of the pale gold satin nightgown against her legs.

Could it be Zac? Her pulse picked up. Could he be coming to apologise for not loving her, for misleading her, for all the grief he’d caused her?

“Who is it?”

Her query was overridden by another—louder—knock.

Annoyed, she called, “Go away, Zac.”

But the knocking continued to staccato against the door. Pandora leaped across the room, her heartbeat racing in anticipation of the battle to come. She turned the key in the lock and yanked the door open.

But it wasn’t Zac who stood there. Instead, Pandora found herself facing an elderly woman balancing a breakfast tray on one hand, the other poised to knock again. Pandora recognised the bag and scarf slung over the woman’s shoulder as her own.

This must be Maria, Georgios’s wife. Pandora hid her exasperation and the twinge of disappointment that it wasn’t Zac. “Oh, thank you. I must have left them downstairs last night.”

Maria said nothing. Pandora tried not to let the woman’s lack of welcome get to her. Instead, she scanned the teapot and cup, the bunch of dark purple grapes, the toast and conserve prettily arranged on the tray and said, “That looks delicious,” before reaching for the tray.

Maria held on to it. For a moment Pandora thought the old woman intended to keep possession of it, then unexpectedly she relinquished it. Backing into the room clasping the tray, Pandora smiled her thanks.

Setting the tray on the chest of drawers beside the window, Pandora turned to find Maria in the room. The handbag had been set down on the bed. Pandora’s silk scarf lay across Maria’s hands, and the old woman’s crooked fingers moved in little circles against the brightly hand-dyed silk.

Pandora warmed to her. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? My favourite scarf.”

Maria ignored her, her fingertips continuing to caress the fabric.

“Did Zac instruct you to give me the silent treatment? Is this another part of his kidnap plan? Isolate me? So that I fall into his arms?”

Nothing. Not even a glance from the other woman.

Pandora gave a sigh of impatience. “You know, a little politeness goes a long way.”

At last Maria looked at her.

Pandora shook her head in disgust. “You’re very rude,” she said clearly. Shrugging when she didn’t get a response, Pandora stalked to the door and pointedly opened it fully. There was no mistaking the message, and Maria’s expression clouded over. She gave the scarf one last stroke before draping it on the post at the bottom of the bed. Then she shuffled past Pandora, her dark eyes veiled.

“Have a nice day.” Pandora pinned on a wide smile.

But Maria didn’t look at her again—nor did she deign to reply.

Shutting the door behind the rude old crone, Pandora locked it for good measure. Only then did she unzip her bag and realise that her cell phone was missing. She remembered Zac suggesting seductively that she spend her time on the island making love. She’d dropped the phone and he’d picked it up. The frustration simmering inside her notched up another degree.

Zac had kept her cell phone.

Seething, Pandora pushed open the curtains and blinked against the bright September sunlight. The absence of shadows made her glance at her watch. It was already midday, so she hastened to the en suite to wash and afterward pulled a floaty white sundress from the wardrobe where someone—Maria perhaps?—had hung her clothes.

Once dressed, she dragged an armchair from the corner of the room and placed it squarely in front of the window and settled down to tackle the fruit Maria had brought. She had just finished the grapes when a new volley of knocking thundered against the door. A moment later the doorknob rattled, but the lock held.

“Unlock the door.” Zac’s voice held a dangerous edge.

“Go away, Zac.”

“Open it now,” he demanded.

She stared mutinously at the door. A heavy thud rocked the door. But the wood held. His shoulder? Probably. She hoped it hurt like blazes. “Stop it, Zac.”

“Open the damned door or I’ll break it down.”

At the thought of Zac’s breaking the door down a forbidden flare of excitement stirred. God, what was she becoming? “If you use any force on that door, I’ll lose the last tiny shred of respect I have for you.”

There was silence. Then she heard him heave a heavy sigh. “You’ve hurt Maria’s feelings.”

The totally unexpected attack took her aback. “I’ve hurt Maria’s feelings?” What about her feelings? Slowly she rose from the chair and went to unlock the door.

Her eyes widened as she took in Zac’s appearance. He looked haggard. His normally tanned skin held an unhealthy yellow tinge, and his eyes were red-rimmed.

“Are you ill?” The words burst from her.

“Why?” he asked guardedly.

“You look terrible.”

His gaze slid away from hers and he muttered something that sounded like, “I feel terrible.”

“What?” she asked, frowning at him.

“It doesn’t matter. What matters is that Maria is offended.”

“I’m offended! That woman is rude.”

“Don’t talk so loudly.” He flinched and half closed his eyes.

“You’re hungover!” she accused.

He blinked but didn’t deny it.

“You didn’t see her. She was rude and insolent and ignored everything I said to her. She didn’t even greet me.”

“It’s not her fault—”

“Of course it’s her fault,” Pandora cut in heatedly. She raised an eyebrow. “Unless you put her up to it?”

“I didn’t put Maria up to anything. But I should’ve told—”

“You should tell her she needs to be more polite to me.” Pandora cringed when she heard the self-righteous words and added lamely, “After all, I am your wife.”

Zac stared at her as if he’d never seen her before. “Why do you deserve Maria’s respect when you gave her none? She says that you opened the door, made her unwelcome in your room and slammed the door on her. That woman has been there all my life. She raised me when I lived with my grandfather at the house in Athens. She looked after me while my father went through dozens of floozies and my mother drank herself to death.” Zac’s eyes were flashing now. “One thing I never had you pegged for was a spoiled little rich girl.”

“I’m not a spoiled little rich girl. She was damn rude to me. She ignored me, she turned her back on me.” It sounded so petty. It was obvious Zac cared about Maria. A lot. “Look, maybe she’s worried now that you’re married,” Pandora conceded. “Maybe any woman you married would never be good enough in her eyes. But she didn’t have to—”

“She’s deaf.”

“Deaf?” Pandora gaped at Zac. The scene in the bedroom ran through her head. “Oh, no! Now I feel terrible.”

“It’s my fault,” Zac sighed. “I usually sign to her, although she can lip-read Greek fluently. I should have warned you to speak English very slowly and keep to a basic vocabulary. But I never even thought about it. I never think of her … disability.”

“I’ll tell her I’m sorry.” Pandora lifted her chin. “But you’re right—you should’ve told me. In fact, you should never have brought me here. What do you think Maria would think of the boy she raised abducting a woman?”

“You’re not telling her that.”

“I can’t, can I? Not if she’s deaf and can’t lip-read English properly.” She gave a mirthless laugh, furious with him, with her helplessness. “You’ve got it all sussed, right down to the deaf jailer.”

“Kiranos is not a jail.”

“It sure feels like one. Unless you’re planning to take me to the airport?” Pandora sneaked him a look from under her bangs. But for the first time she wasn’t so sure she wanted to go. Once she left, their marriage would be over. And Zac would never look at her with that glow in his eyes, never again touch her with fingers that reduced her to shivers—

God, she had to stop thinking about … about the sex side of their marriage.

Zac avoided her gaze. “I’ll let you go when I’m good and ready.”

His high-handedness caused another flare of annoyance. “And then you wonder why I say I hate you.”

The eyes that met hers were a flat, expressionless green. “You don’t hate me.”

Before he could expose the ignominious desire she was trying to hide, Pandora retorted, “What’s to like about you? You’re arrogant, deceitful and sly. You talk about your noble ancestors and their chivalrous love for their brides, yet you abduct me and stop me from going home to my family. You are a man totally without honour.”

Zac stared at her, his face ashen. Without a word, he swung on his heel and left her room, the door closing silently behind him.

Feeling no relief at her victory, only emptiness, Pandora slunk to the armchair and listened as his footsteps retreated. The tearing sense of loss splintered her soul, hurting deep within her psyche and leaving a void where her love for Zac had flourished. All that was left was the humiliating knowledge that she still wanted him. But after her last crack, he’d have to be made of steel to even think of touching her.

Dropping her head into her hands, she remembered Maria’s sullen face when she’d left earlier … and just now Zac’s face had been grey as a result of the words she’d hurled at him. Words that left the nasty, bitter taste of shame on her tongue. She’d always been kind and upbeat to everyone she’d met. At school, some of the girls had sniggered that she was a regular little Pollyanna. What the hell was happening to her? What was she becoming?

Yes, Zac’s behaviour to her had been unacceptable. His actions had instilled a sense of confusion and powerless-ness. And, yes, she’d been wallowed in her own misery. But there was no need to take it out on Maria.

Or even Zac. His shattered expression flashed through her mind. She’d known that her words would hurt like poisoned arrows. Zac’s sense of honour lay at the heart of the man he was—the man he believed himself to be. Her venomous attack had been small-minded, not like her at all. She’d behaved like a petulant child.

Remorse stabbed at her. And while a niggling voice said that he deserved it because he’d taken away her right of choice, her freedom, she suppressed it. She was not going to allow Zac’s actions to destroy the person she’d always prided herself on being.

So when Maria arrived with her lunch tray, Pandora gave her a tentative smile and mouthed, “I’m sorry.”

The Greek woman’s face broke into a smile and she started to speak in very broken, very hesitant English. “Zac tell me you not know.”

The knowledge that Zac had taken the blame for what had happened completely flummoxed her, and she stared after Maria openmouthed as she set the tray on the chest of drawers.

After Maria had gone, Pandora picked at the Greek salad with its red tomato quarters and fat olives before pushing the tray aside. Not hungry but not yet ready to venture out and face Zac, Pandora picked up a book. It was a mystery featuring a kick-ass heroine by a favourite author who usually held her entranced. But today the words on the pages aroused no interest.

The afternoon was hot. Even inside the thick whitewashed stone walls, Pandora could feel the temperature rising. The fine cotton dress clung to her body, so she turned up the air-conditioning. Thoroughly restless now, Pandora crossed to the window and pushed it open.

The villa—if one could call a structure with towers and parapets that—perched like an eyrie high above a sweeping cobbled terrace, and far below lay the stony beach. And beyond, the sea glittered in the sunlight. On the terrace, a thickset man with a head of unruly black hair—Georgios, Maria’s husband, she supposed—was watering terra-cotta pots full of bright magenta geraniums.

The startling glare of the heat shimmered off the white walls of the villa. The sea looked blissfully tranquil. Incredibly tempting. Pandora stood there, her arms folded on the wide sill, for what seemed forever.

At last she acknowledged to herself that she was waiting for Zac to appear.

Turning away in disgust, she threw herself down on the bed and stared at the wooden door.

This time she hadn’t locked it.

Because after her cruel words she knew Zac would not return.

Pandora spent the next three days closeted in her bedroom, avoiding Zac, full of remorse at the way she’d spoken to him the last time she’d seen him. But she couldn’t help being a little irked that Zac hadn’t bothered to check on her.

Yet beneath the conflicting emotions lay something more, an unsettling desire that was still very much alive. Despite everything he had done—and her own vehement demand for a divorce—what she really wanted was for Zac to apologise, preferably on his knees, for keeping her here against her will. It infuriated her to be so confused, at the mercy of a man and her own turbulent emotions.

The only respite from the quagmire of emotions, ironically enough, was Maria. Three times each day Maria brought her a tray heaped with delicious food. Swiss muesli and fruit and rich, creamy yogurt with honey for breakfast. Greek salads topped with chunks of crumbled feta cheese and glossy black kalamata olives, pita bread with taramasalata and hummus and slices of warm lamb seasoned with rosemary. Maria clucked like a concerned mother hen if she failed to finish meals and smiled her approval when the plate and bowl were clean of food. Any thought Pandora might’ve had to undertake a hunger strike to make Zac realise how seriously angry she was about what he had done was undermined even as it took root.

Maria brought Pandora a pile of outdated magazines. Cosmopolitan, Harper’s Bazaar and Town & Country, as well as an assortment of Greek magazines, giving Pandora something to do. So one evening, when Maria arrived with a dinner tray, Pandora gave her the silk scarf she’d touched with such reverence that first morning.

Maria’s eyes lit up. “Mine?”

Pandora nodded.

Maria took the scarf, holding it like some fragile piece of glass. Then she stood in front of the mirror and tied it around her neck.

“Here, like this.” Pandora moved to Maria’s side and fiddled with the ends until they were arranged to her satisfaction.

The smile of joy on Maria’s face brought a lump to her throat. The old woman’s wrinkled fingers kept going up to stroke the lustrous silk with reverent touches.

“Beau … beautiful.” Maria struggled with the word.

Pandora dipped her head in acknowledgment. “It was my mother’s. She was an artist—she hand dyed the colours herself.” She’d said too much—Maria’s frown indicated she did not follow.

“Your mother … dead?” Maria asked finally.

“Ne.” Yes. It was one of the Greek words she’d learned over the last few weeks.

Maria shook her head from side to side, muttering something in Greek, her hand going to where the knot sat at her shoulder.

“No.” Stilling the older woman’s hands, Pandora said, “It gives me pleasure to give it to you.”

Maria seemed to get her meaning. “Efgaristo.” And danced out the room on light feet.

Over the last three days Pandora had reread the meagre selection of books in her baggage, scanned the year-old magazines Maria had brought her until they were dog-eared, her heart stopping each time Zac stared unsmiling out of a photograph at her.

Now, as she readied herself for bed, Pandora finally admitted that she was bored out her skull.

So when she woke on Friday morning, Pandora stared out the window at the pebbled beach that edged the stony outcrop below the villa and decided she’d had enough of being cooped in her bedroom while the sun shone outside.

Quickly she donned a brief white-and-silver swimsuit and covered it with a white cheesecloth shirt that Zac had bought for her at the Plaka in Athens, then tied a yellow sarong around her waist and trod into a pair of metallic leather sandals. A slather of sunscreen, a hat, and she was ready to face the blistering Mediterranean sun.

She met no one as she crept down the spiral staircase and bypassed the reception rooms. Outside, the beach was even more alluring than it had appeared from her window. The sea was a clear turquoise under the arch of cerulean sky. Round pebbles stretched into the water. Pandora found a flat rock and spread out her towel and stretched out in the morning sun.

What was Zac doing right now? Just thinking about him brought back the unresolved tension between them. She hadn’t seen him since he’d left her room, white-faced, days ago. Where was he? She hadn’t heard the helicopter depart, so she assumed he must still be on the island.

When was he going to release her?

Surely he’d need to return to the corporation he headed? Or did he maintain a makeshift office in the villa—despite his claim that Kiranos was his retreat from the frenzy that he existed in? From under the hat she risked a glance at the villa and scanned the windows overlooking the beach. Eventually she homed in on the three windows a level below the vast glassed living room. If an office existed, it made sense that there would be some sort of telephone, even a satellite phone—he couldn’t be totally out of contact with the rest of the world.

With a sigh, she pushed the thought from her head and closed her eyes.

A little later, made lazy by the sun, she explored the beach, hopping along the pebbles to where a sheer wall of rock ended the curve of beach. Soothed by the gentle lap of the water against the pebbles, Pandora came back to where her towel waited and wedged herself in the shade of a large rock and closed her eyes.

That was where Maria found her when the sun was at its zenith. The tray of sliced fruit and fresh bread with slivers of smoked salmon and chunks of cheese looked delicious, and she thanked Maria. Made hungry by the salty air, Pandora ate with gusto. But she couldn’t help wishing that Zac was here … to share the moment.

When she pushed her plate back onto the tray and pulled out the serviette wedged under a plate, a piece of folded paper fluttered onto the beach.

She bent down to pick it up.

Don’t forget it is hot in the sun. Stay in the shade or come inside. Join me for a drink on the terrace this evening.

Pandora didn’t need the slashed Zac to identify the writing.

At once a host of emotions shook her. Aggravation at his high-handedness. Regret for what might have been. And finally outrage.

How dared he leave her languishing for three days and now tell her what to do and demand her company? She ignored the twinge of fairness that admitted that staying in her room had been her choice. Deep down, she’d wanted him to come running after her, to placate her.

But he hadn’t.

His failure to do so had both infuriated and frustrated her. Yet at the same time she was filled with a kind of relief. The past few days had given her much-needed breathing space and a chance to gain perspective.

She slopped on more sunscreen, telling herself it had nothing to do with Zac’s directive about the heat of the sun, then lay down. But too soon she was hot and itchy. A sheen of perspiration dampened her skin. She wriggled and twisted. But the edgy feeling would not leave. Finally she rose and headed for the sparkling sea.

The water was cool against her heated body, the pebbles smooth under her toes as she edged carefully in. The water crept higher as she went deeper, and finally the unbearable frissons against her sun-warmed skin forced her to dive headlong into the calm water. She came up breathless from the mild shock of the saltwater. Swimming a little way, she turned onto her back and stared at the unfathomable blue of the sky overhead until the on-edge tightness subsided a little. She felt calmer, more able to deal with Zac.

Zac had been watching Pandora from his study on and off the whole morning—and it had shot his concentration to hell. Unsettled, he struggled to read the report his PA had e-mailed to him, a report that had to be finalized—he glanced at his watch—in the next half hour.

Pandora had called him a man without honour. And she was proving to be right. What did he care about a report deadline when Pandora floated on the sea in the tiniest wisps of white fabric bound with provocative silver bows that he itched to untie?

But her words rankled.

Because there was more than a hint of truth in them. Kidnapping her, bringing her to Kiranos when she’d clearly thought he was taking her somewhere to talk before allowing her to leave, had been devious.

He’d intended to talk her into staying married to him, to show her what they had going for them. And then she’d dropped her bombshell.

And it had all gone to hell.

Zac’s gaze narrowed on the inert figure of his bride floating on the sea, only the occasional splash revealing she was awake. All his life he’d known he had a duty to fulfill. He was the Kyriakos heir. He would not fail the family as his father had. He would select a wife carefully when the time came. His bride’s virginity was not negotiable.

Pandora had put her finger on the heart of his quandary: That’s why you’re in this fix. Because there aren’t any suitable virgins out there.

He’d never been drawn to shy, simpering virgins. Since his twenty-first birthday, his family had paraded inexperienced sweet things in front of him—and none had stirred a response. It had taken Pandora, with her sharp wit and gentle beauty, to reach that part inside him that he’d always considered unassailable. He’d been so sure he’d found the answer to his prayers.

Except it had all been a cruel illusion.

He watched as Pandora rolled over in the sea and started to swim toward the shore.

Pandora was not pure in body. Telling himself that a sullied body didn’t mean that her heart was any less pure did not help. He’d been misled. Although it was probable her father had believed his daughter to be untouched.

It was his own fault. He should have asked her outright before proposing. But he’d been too intent on getting her into his bed.

He’d been only too eager to accept she was a virgin.

So what if he’d known about her … flaw … from the outset, before he’d offered her marriage? Would it have changed anything? His head told him he would never have married her. Generations of Kyriakos men had married virgins. It was part of their identity, part of the rich heritage they stemmed from.

Part of the magic of the legend.

Yet his body was wired differently from his brain. Those few innocent kisses during their courtship had hooked him. Taking her to his bed and making love to her had been the most earth-shattering experience of his life.

How could he just let her walk away? Yet keeping her would rock the family to the roots and go against the tradition that his ancestors had established. A knot of pain formed under his heart.

Zac was surprised to discover that the thought of living without Pandora was more disturbing than her lack of maidenhead. Somewhere along the line, his priorities had shifted. He no longer really cared that he hadn’t found the last virgin bride. He no longer cared about the Kyriakos legend. Not if it was about to cost him his wife.

He watched as she waded through the shallows, picking her way between the pebbles to where her towel lay. The sun glinted off her blond hair and turned her skin to a light bronze. Zac shoved his hands into his pockets.

What did his wife’s lack of virginity matter? By marrying Pandora, he’d made her virginity a universal truth. The newspapers had speculated for years about whom he would eventually marry, running articles with accompanying photos of the young heiresses he might favour with a proposal and publicly knocking them off the list when they fell from grace.

He’d made damn sure that Pandora never saw the spate of stories that had followed his announcement of their marriage on her arrival in Athens. Stories headlining her purity to the public.

The tight knot in his chest started to subside. Her lack of maidenhead would be a secret he’d keep from his family—that way there would be no risk of the story leaking into the papers, making a mockery of who he was and destabilising the stock prices. No one else would ever know the truth.

Except …

He hesitated, watching as Pandora wrapped the towel around herself. Pandora had said she’d only ever had one lover. To date, the guy had not come forward—despite the enormous publicity of their marriage.

He’d find the man. Offer him enough money to silence him forever. He would do it for Pandora.

Yes, it was possible.

And he’d use this time on Kiranos to convince Pandora that they were perfect together. But first he had to overcome her fury and hatred. He just hoped he hadn’t left it too late.

After the cooling swim, Pandora returned to her room and showered the last traces of saltwater from her body before slipping into a sleek white cotton sundress with a halter neckline. From her window she watched Georgios set two deck chairs out on the terrace. Zac appeared from the house, and her breathing quickened. He paused, said something to Georgios that made the old man laugh.

Pandora skittered back, not wanting Zac to see her. But he didn’t glance up as he made for the steep stone stairs that led to the boathouse to the right of the beach.

Quickly she left her room and ran down the spiral stairway. She branched off on the level where she suspected Zac’s study might be. Two doors opened off the small landing. Her heart in her throat, she opened the first and found a gym stocked with Nautilus equipment. The second door opened into a light, airy room that was clearly set up to be an office.

It was empty.

No sign of Maria cleaning … and she’d seen Zac heading for the boathouse.

Her gaze hurriedly scanned the desk, the bookshelves, taking in the bank of computer ware, the clean, organised surfaces … but no sign of her cell phone or Zac’s.

About to leave, she noticed the flicker of the screen saver. Feeling like a thief, she scuttled around the desk and perched on the edge of Zac’s big black leather chair. With a sense of nervous elation, she hit the enter button and waited.

A document opened. Zac had not logged out. Fingers shaking, she minimised the document and hit the Internet connection icon. A home page opened. Relief and a kind of shaky guilt made her sag. She cocked her head. Only silence. No sound of the pantherlike tread of Zac’s returning footsteps.

She tapped in a Web-mail address and waited a moment before keying in her log-in and password.

Pandora stared at the screen. A list of unread messages sat in her in-box, several containing subject headers congratulating her on her marriage. No time to read them now.

Hurriedly, she clicked on the new message tab and typed in her father’s e-mail address. After a moment’s reflection, she filled Need your help into the subject line. It was much more difficult to find the words than she had expected. She wanted to tell her father that her marriage was over, that she needed him to rescue her from this mess.

But how to explain it all? She hesitated. How could she tell her father that she’d lost her virginity after some stupid visit to a nightclub with a man she’d barely known three years ago? Her father had trusted her to go stay with Nicoletta and to behave as he expected. How could she disappoint him?

And what would happen about the lucrative contract her father had signed with Zac? He’d walk away from it, putting her first.

No, she couldn’t let her private failures screw up her father’s business relationships. She had to sort this out herself. Her twenty-first birthday was less than a month away. She was an adult now, not a child who needed to run home to Daddy every time something went wrong.

Zac had brought her here against her will. To talk, he’d said. She’d been bitter, too angry to talk, and had flung her loss of virginity in his face. The diversion had worked. And she’d retreated to her room to sulk, wasting three days waiting for him to come seek her out.

It was way past time to grow up, to take control of her life and her future. She had to find Zac and have it out with him.

But first she owed her father a chatty, upbeat e-mail. He’d been so happy about her marriage. With a small sigh, she started to type.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Pandora jumped when Zac’s voice exploded behind her. Spinning the high-backed leather chair around, she blurted out, “E-mailing my father. He’ll be worried—and hurt—if I don’t keep in touch.”

“Daddy to the rescue,” Zac said, but the deep lines of tension around his mouth receded.

“I don’t need my father to fight my battles.”

The glint in his eyes changed to something that she thought might be reluctant admiration. Then he spoiled it by saying, “I want to read what you have written.”

Her chin went up. “Don’t you trust me?”

His eyes flickered to the screen.

Pandora scooted the chair forward, blocking his view of the screen. “It’s private, my communication to my father. I’m simply assuring him that I am well and that we are on an island—how do you spell Kiranos by the way? It would look strange if I didn’t get it right.”

After a fleeting hesitation Zac, spelled it out.

“Thanks.” Pandora bent her head and continued to type. Tense now, she waited for Zac to move closer, to peer over her shoulder … to stop her sending the e-mail. But he didn’t move. Finally she clicked the send button and looked up. “Done.”

Zac was watching her, a bemused expression on his face. “I’m reputed to be a suspicious, hardheaded bastard. I can’t believe that I trusted you to do that.” He shook his head and held out a hand. “Come, let’s go sit on the terrace and see the day out.”

As Pandora rose and took his hand, a deep inner tension unwound and a delicious warmth spread through her. But she suppressed the treacherous want that unfurled inside her.

She and Zac needed to talk.