Читать книгу The Billionaire's Innocent - Part 2 - CAITLIN CREWS - Страница 8

NORA WOKE UP to find herself sprawled out in Zair’s absurdly comfortable bed, all by herself in a shower of sunlight.

The view from the tall windows—the whole of the Riviera arranged below her with the Mediterranean sparkling beyond as if for her pleasure alone—was as breathtaking as she’d expected, but what she hadn’t anticipated was how scrubbed-fresh-and-clean she would feel. As if Zair’s shower the night before had truly been magical—or perhaps it was the fact that he’d been there with her, washing her with all of that tenderness and intense focus of his, that had cast some kind of enchantment over her. As if this were some kind of love story after all.

She sat up slowly and breathed in deep, and she felt more like herself in that moment than she had since she’d realized Harlow was missing. She even smiled with a surge of something a great deal like joy—

And then felt sick with guilt in the next breath.

“I’m sorry, Harlow,” Nora whispered fiercely into the quiet bedroom, appalled at herself. Her own callousness. “I haven’t forgotten you.”

She had to keep looking. No matter what Zair thought. And no matter that she had an entirely different take on what “looking” might entail come the bright light of day. She rubbed her hands over her face and breathed out, long and hard.

Could she do it? Now that it wasn’t a throwaway rationalization—now that she’d stood on that yacht and felt all those harsh male stares, now that she’d been dragged away and had an envelope slapped in her hand—could she go through with this? Because this was her entire plan for finding Harlow. And it wouldn’t be Zair the next time.

She tried to imagine how she’d feel if all the things that had happened last night had been with some stranger. Someone who wouldn’t have stopped when Zair had. Someone who would have ignored her panic and her tears and her terror—or, worse, maybe wouldn’t have ignored it but would have handled it differently. Perhaps with a backhanded slap across the face?

What the hell were you thinking? she asked herself, incredulous. How could you have imagined this was a good plan?

Nora crawled over to the side of the bed and slid off, feeling very small. Very fragile. And deeply, profoundly embarrassed, too. A wave of it washed over her, making her feel tiny and reckless at once. Was she that careless? That stupid? That she would walk straight into the kind of situation so many women—women she knew, she thought as shame wound through her, like her brother Hunter’s new girlfriend, Zoe Brook, who had appeared on national television to talk about what she’d endured at Jason Treffen’s hands—had fought their way out of at great cost to themselves?