Читать книгу The Revenge Collection 2018 - Кейт Хьюит, Эль Кеннеди - Страница 65

CHAPTER FOUR

@Ladystclare OMG! Bragging rights=mine! Beheld fireworks w/in fireworks @P/Manor last night when LadyP eloped w/convict lover! #amazeballs

@Aristokitten Bet it was all a publicity stunt, but boy that kiss? Sign me up! #Ineedlatinlovelikethat

@Countrypile That wasn’t love. That was an obscene and shameless money-grabbing gambit at its worst! #Donotencouragerancidbehaviour

EVA FLINCHED, her stomach churning at each new message that flooded her social-media stream.

The hours had passed in a haze after Zaccheo flew them from Pennington Manor. In solid command of the helicopter, he’d soared over the City of London and landed on the vertiginous rooftop of The Spire.

The stunning split-level penthouse’s interior had barely registered in the early hours when Zaccheo’s enigmatic aide, Romeo, had directed the butler to show her to her room.

Zaccheo had stalked away without a word, leaving her in the middle of his marble-tiled hallway, clutching his jacket.

Sleep had been non-existent in the bleak hours that had followed. At five a.m., she’d given up and taken a quick shower before putting on that skin-baring dress again.

Wishing she’d asked for a blanket to cover the acres of flesh on display, she cringed as another salacious offering popped into her inbox displayed on Zaccheo’s tablet.

Like a spectator frozen on the fringes of an unfolding train wreck, she read the latest post.

@Uberwoman Hey ConvictLover, that flighty poor little rich girl is wasted on you. Real women exist. Let ME rock your world!

Eva curled her fist, refusing to entertain the image of any woman rocking Zaccheo’s world. She didn’t care one way or the other. If she had a choice, she would be ten thousand miles away from this place.

‘If you’re thinking of responding to any of that, consider yourself warned against doing so.’

She jumped at the deep voice a whisper from her ear. She’d thought she would be alone in the living room for at least another couple of hours before dealing with Zaccheo. Now she wished she’d stayed in her room.

She stood and faced him, the long black suede sofa between them no barrier to Zaccheo’s towering presence.

‘I’ve no intention of responding. And you really shouldn’t sneak up on people like that,’ she tagged on when the leisurely drift of those incisive eyes over her body made her feel like a specimen under a microscope.

‘I don’t sneak. Had you been less self-absorbed in your notoriety, you would’ve heard me enter the room.’

Anger welled up. ‘You accuse me of being notorious? All this is happening because you insisted on gatecrashing a private event and turning it into a public spectacle.’

‘And, of course, you were so eager to find out whether you’re trending that you woke up at dawn to follow the news.’

She wanted to ask how he’d known what time she’d left her room, but Eva suspected she wouldn’t like the answer. ‘You assume I slept at all when sleep was the last thing on my mind, having been blackmailed into coming here. And, FYI, I don’t read the gutter press. Not unless I want the worst kind of indigestion.’

He rounded the sofa and stopped within arm’s length. She stood her ground, but she couldn’t help herself ogling the breathtaking body filling her vision.

It was barely six o’clock and yet he looked as vitally masculine as if he’d been up and ready for hours. A film of sweat covered the hair-dusted arms beneath the pulled-up sleeves, and his damp white T-shirt moulded his chiselled torso. His black drawstring sweatpants did nothing to hide thick thighs and Eva struggled to avert her gaze from the virile outline of his manhood against the soft material. Dragging her gaze up, she stared in fascination at the hands and fingers wrapped in stained boxing gauze.

‘Do you intend to spend the rest of the morning ogling me, Eva?’ he asked mockingly.

She looked into his eyes and that potent, electric tug yanked hard at her. Reminding herself that she was immune from whatever spell he’d once cast on her, she raised her chin.

‘I intend to attempt a reasonable conversation with you in the cold light of day regarding last night’s events.’

‘That suggests you believe our previous interactions have been unreasonable?’

‘I did a quick search online. You were released yesterday morning. It stands to reason that you’re still a little affected by your incarceration—’

His harsh, embittered laugh bounced like bullets around the room. Eva folded her arms, refusing to cower at the sound.

He stepped towards her, the tension in his body barely leashed. ‘You think I’m a “little affected” by my incarceration? Tell me, bella,’ he invited softly, ‘do you know what it feels like to be locked in a six-by-ten, damp and rancid cage for over a year?’

A brief wave of torment overcame his features, and a different tug, one of sympathy, pulled at her. Then she reminded herself just who she was dealing with. ‘Of course not. I just don’t want you to do anything that you’ll regret.’

‘Your touching concern for my welfare is duly noted. But I suggest you save it for yourself. Last night was merely you and your family being herded into the eye of the storm. The real devastation is just getting started.’

As nightmarish promises went, Zaccheo’s chilled her to the bone. Before she could reply, several pings blared from the tablet. She glanced down and saw more lurid posts about what real women wanted to do to Zaccheo.

She shut the tablet and straightened to find him slowly unwinding the gauze from his right hand, his gaze pinned on her. Silence stretched as he freed both hands and tossed the balled cloth onto the glass-topped coffee table.

‘So, do I get any sort of itinerary for this impending apocalypse?’ she asked when it became clear he was content to let the silence linger.

One corner of his mouth lifted. ‘We’ll have breakfast in half an hour. After that, we’ll see whether your father has done what I demanded of him. If he has, we’ll take it from there.’

Recalling her father’s overly belligerent denial once Zaccheo had left the study last night, anxiety skewered her. ‘And if he hasn’t?’

‘Then his annihilation will come sooner rather than later.’

* * *

Half an hour later, Eva struggled to swallow a mouthful of buttered toast and quickly chased it down with a sip of tea before she choked.

A few minutes ago, a brooding Romeo had entered with the butler who’d delivered a stack of broadsheets. The other man had conversed in Italian with a freshly showered and even more visually devastating Zaccheo.

Zaccheo’s smile after the short exchange had incited her first panic-induced emotion. He’d said nothing after Romeo left. Instead he’d devoured a hearty plate of scrambled eggs, grilled mushrooms and smoked pancetta served on Italian bread with unsettling gusto.

But as the silence spread thick and cloying across the room she finally set her cup down and glanced to where he stood now at the end of the cherrywood dining table, his hands braced on his hips, an inscrutable expression on his face.

Again, Eva was struck by the change in him. Even now he was dressed more formally in dark grey trousers and a navy shirt with the sleeves rolled up, her eyes were drawn to the gladiator-like ruggedness of his physique.

‘Eva.’ Her name was a deep command. One she desperately wanted to ignore. It held a quiet triumph she didn’t want to acknowledge. The implications were more than she could stomach. She wasn’t one for burying her head in the sand, but if her father had done what Zaccheo had demanded, then—

‘Eva,’ he repeated. Sharper. Controlled but demanding.

Heart hammering, she glanced at him. ‘What?’

He stared back without blinking, his body deathly still. ‘Come here.’

Refusing to show how rattled she was, she stood, teetered on the heels she’d had no choice but to wear again, and strode towards him.

He tracked her with chilling precision, his eyes dropping to her hips for a charged second before he looked back up. Eva hated her body for reacting to that look, even as her breasts tingled and a blaze lit between her thighs.

Silently she cursed herself. She had no business reacting to that look, or to any man on any plane of emotion whatsoever. She had proof that path only ended in eviscerating heartache.

She stopped a few feet from him, made sure to place a dining chair between them. But the solid wood couldn’t stop her senses from reacting to his scent, or her nipples from furling into tight, needy buds when her gaze fell on the golden gleam of his throat revealed by the gap in his shirt. Quickly crossing her arms, she looked down at the newspapers.

That they’d made headlines was unmistakeable. Bold black letters and exclamation marks proclaimed Zaccheo’s antics. And as for that picture of them locked together...

‘I can’t believe you landed a helicopter in the middle of a fireworks display,’ she threw out, simply because it was easier than acknowledging the other words written on the page binding her to Zaccheo, insinuating they were something they would never be.

He looked from her face to the front-page picture showing him landing his helicopter during a particularly violent explosion. ‘Were you concerned for me?’ he mocked.

‘Of course not. You obviously don’t care about your own safety so why should I?’

A simmering silence followed, then he stalked closer. ‘I hope you intend to act a little more concerned towards my well-being once we’re married.’

Any intention of avoiding looking at him fled her mind. ‘Married? Don’t you think you’ve taken this far enough?’ she snapped.

‘Excuse me?’

‘You wanted to humiliate my father. Congratulations, you’ve made headlines in every single newspaper. Don’t you think it’s time to drop this?’

His eyes turned into pools of ice. ‘You think this is some sort of game?’ he enquired silkily.

‘What else can it be? If you really had the evidence you claim to have, why haven’t you handed it over to the police?’

‘You believe I’m bluffing?’ His voice was a sharp blade slicing through the air.

‘I believe you feel aggrieved.’

‘Really? And what else did you believe?’

Eva refused to quail beneath the look that threatened to cut her into pieces. ‘It’s clear you want to make some sort of statement about how you were treated by my father. You’ve done that now. Let it go.’

‘So your father did all this—’ he indicated the papers ‘—just to stop me throwing a childish tantrum? And what about you? Did you throw yourself at my feet to buy your family time to see how long my bluff would last?’

She flung her arms out in exasperation. ‘Come on, Zaccheo—’

They both stilled at her use of his name. Eva had no time to recover from the unwitting slip. Merciless fingers speared into her hair, much as they had last night, holding her captive as his thumb tilted her chin.

‘How far are you willing to go to get me to be reasonable? Or perhaps I should guess? After all, just last night you’d dropped to an all-time low of whoring yourself to a drunken boy in order to save your family.’ The thick condemnation feathered across her skin.

Rage flared in her belly, gave her the strength to remain upright. He stood close. Far too close. She stepped back, but only managed to wedge herself between the table and Zaccheo’s towering body. ‘As opposed to what? Whoring myself to a middle-aged criminal?’

He leaned down, crowding her further against the polished wood. ‘You know exactly how old I am. In fact, I recall precisely where we both were when the clock struck midnight on my thirtieth birthday. Or perhaps you need me to refresh your memory?’ His smooth, faintly accented voice trailed amused contempt.

‘Don’t bother—’

‘I’ll do it anyway, it’s no hardship,’ he offered, as if her sharp denial hadn’t been uttered. ‘We were newly engaged, and you were on your knees in front of my penthouse window, uncaring that anyone with a pair of decent binoculars would see us. All you cared about was getting your busy, greedy little hands on my belt, eager to rid me of my trousers so you could wish me a happy birthday in a way most men fantasise about.’

Her skin flushed with a wave of heat so strong, she feared spontaneous combustion. ‘That wasn’t my idea.’

One brow quirked. ‘Was it not?’

‘No, you dared me to do it.’

His mouth twitched. ‘Are you saying I forced you?’

Those clever fingers were drifting along her scalp, lazily caressing, lulling her into showing her vulnerability.

Eva sucked in a deep breath. ‘I’m saying I don’t want to talk about the past. I prefer to stick to the present.’

She didn’t want to remember how gullible she’d been back then, how stupidly eager to please, how excited she’d been that this god of a man, who could have any woman he wanted with a lazy crook of his finger, had pursued her, chosen her.

Even after learning the hard way that men in positions of power would do anything to stay in that power, that her two previous relationships had only been a means to an end for the men involved, she’d still allowed herself to believe Zaccheo wanted her for herself. Finding out that he was no better, that he only wanted her to secure a business deal, had delivered a blow she’d spent the better part of a year burying in a deep hole.

At first his demands had been subtle: a business dinner here, a charity event there—occasions she’d been proud and honoured to accompany him on. Until that fateful night when she’d overheard a handful of words that had had the power to sting like nothing else.

She’s the means to an end. Nothing more...

The conversation that had followed remained seared into her brain. Zaccheo, impatiently shutting her down, then brazenly admitting he’d said those words. That he’d used her.

Most especially, she recalled the savage pain in knowing she had got him so wrong, had almost given herself to a man who held such careless regard for her, and only cared about her pedigree.

And yet his shock when she’d returned his ring had made her wonder whether she’d done the right thing.

His arrest days later for criminal negligence had confirmed what sort of man she’d foolishly woven her dreams around.

She met his gaze now. ‘You got what you wanted—your name next to mine on the front page. The whole world knows I left with you last night, that I’m no longer engaged to Harry.’

His hand slipped to her nape, worked over tense muscles. ‘And how did Fairfield take being so unceremoniously dumped?’ he asked.

‘Harry cares about me, so he was a complete gentleman about it. Shame I can’t say the same about you.’

Dark grey eyes gleamed dangerously. ‘You mean he wasn’t torn up at the thought of never having access to this body again?’ he mocked.

She lifted a brow. ‘Never say never.’

Tension coiled his body. ‘If you think I’ll tolerate any further interaction between you and Fairfield, you’re severely mistaken,’ he warned with a dark rumble.

‘Why, Zaccheo, you sound almost jealous.’

Heat scoured his cheekbones and a tiny part of her quailed at her daring. ‘You’d be wise to stop testing me, dolcezza.’

‘If you want this to stop, tell me why you’re doing this.’

‘I’m only going to say it one more time, so let it sink in. I don’t intend to stop until your father’s reputation is in the gutter and everything he took from me is returned, plus interest.’

‘Can I see the proof of what you accuse my father of?’

‘Would you believe even if you saw it? Or will you cling to the belief that I’m the big, bad ogre who’s just throwing his weight about?’ he taunted.

Eva looked down at the papers on the table, every last one containing everything Zaccheo had demanded. Would her father have done it if Zaccheo’s threats were empty?

‘Last night, when you said you and I...’ She stopped, unable to process the reality.

‘Would be married in two weeks? Sì, I meant that, too. And to get that ball rolling, we’re going shopping for an engagement ring in exactly ten minutes, after which we have a full day ahead, so if you require further sustenance I suggest you finish your breakfast.’

He dropped his fingers from her nape and stepped back. With a last look filled with steely determination, he picked up the closest paper and walked out of the room.