Читать книгу The Chatsfield: Series 2 - Эбби Грин, Кейт Хьюит - Страница 22

CHAPTER ELEVEN

ZAYN CALLED HIMSELF a hundred kinds of fool after Sophie left. He poured himself a drink, intent on washing away the pain in his lungs, the pain in his chest. That he feared he would not be able to.

He would have to call Leila, he would have to call his mother. He would have to warn them what was about to happen. And worse, he would have to admit his fault in it. This was his doing, as it had been when Jasmine had died. He did this, he exposed them to these sorts of things, because of who he trusted.

“No.” He spoke the words out loud to the room, as if that would make them magically be true. As if it would make Sophie the woman he had believed her to be, and not the woman she had proven herself to be.

He could not believe she had betrayed him. Not really.

She had asked him to want more for himself, more than a marriage that was simply for his country. She had made him believe he might find that. With her.

This was why he shouldn’t want more. Because the moment he did...the moment he did, he ruined everything.

He had brought her into his home, he had given her the tools she needed to destroy them.

But why? He still didn’t know why. Didn’t know what Isabelle needed, or why Sophie had felt compelled to do this. And he needed answers, dammit. He needed them.

He took another drink. And his chest burned, but not from the alcohol.

What was it that she had said to him? That duty without love was empty. Well, his actions had certainly proven empty in the end where she was concerned. And he had thought...he had felt things for her. He had given up so much for her.

And though he wanted to lock her in a dungeon for what she’d done...he could not wholly regret the change in himself.

Yes, Sophie had turned out to be false, but she had also given him hope, hope in something that had turned out to be a lie, but he wondered now what was possible. And he feared it was too late to turn back.

Too late to want less.

“Damn you, Sophie,” he said. How could she have done this? Made him believe. Made him love.

And yet...had she really betrayed him? He couldn’t imagine it. He couldn’t fathom that—the woman he’d held in the tent, the woman he’d kissed in the rain, the woman who’d told him it wasn’t his fault. That he was more than the tragedy he’d always blamed on himself.

There was no reason for her to do those things. None at all. And there was a part of him that couldn’t believe she’d done it for a story. It wasn’t her. It couldn’t be.

He picked up his phone and dialed her number. It went straight to voice mail, unsurprising, really, since she was likely to still be flying. He hung up, his mind racing. He had doubts. And he had to know. He had to know for sure.

Colin Fairfax. That was who he needed on the line. Colin Fairfax was responsible for this, and he would answer for it.

He pressed the intercom. “Connect me to Colin Fairfax. New York Herald.”

In a few moments, the phone was ringing, and a man answered. “Fairfax.”

“I need to speak with you about Sophie,” he said.

“Who is this?” Fairfax asked, his voice sounding concerned.

“Do I need an introduction?” Zayn asked. “I should have thought you would expect a call from me.”

“Sheikh Al-Ahmar.” And now his voice had crossed over into terrified. “I mailed Sophie the tape already. As promised. And whatever she does with it after is not my business. She said she’d destroy it, that’s the deal. But she’s the person you want to deal with. Not me.”

Zayn’s mind was racing, trying to piece together what Fairfax was saying, unwilling to look like he wasn’t in the know. “What else might Sophie do with it?” he asked, thinking this line of questioning might be best to find out what he needed.

“Sell it to another media company. But I’d sue the hell out of her for it. Anyway, that wasn’t what she wanted. She said she wanted the tape destroyed, and in exchange she told me the thing about Leila. But the story about the pregnancy was already broken. It’s not slander to fill in the details.”

“I don’t want to sue you,” Zayn growled. “I want to tear your limbs from your body. But it will have to wait.”

“Sheikh...”

“You have lost your chance to apologize. Or explain. Be very hopeful that I do not change my mind about acting on my desires.”

He hung up the phone, trying to sort through the implications of what Fairfax had just let slip. There was a tape. It pertained to him. Sophie had made a deal so she could destroy it, and that was why she had told him about Leila.

Heart pounding, he stood and was walking out of his study before he even realized what he was doing.

She had not betrayed him. Sophie had not betrayed him. He had known it, deep in his soul he had known it.

But he had sent her away. In a rage. He had said he would not see her again, and with Jasmine, those words had been prophetic.

Terror, anger, pain, gripped his stomach. Echoes from the past tearing through him.

He had to go to her now.

Because he had already lost one person he loved with nothing but venom hanging between them when she’d breathed her last.

He would be damned if that happened again.

* * *

She hadn’t thought to bargain for her job. Oh, well, you couldn’t have everything. Sophie ran across the street, and made it onto the last block that she had to walk to get to her apartment, her arms aching from holding the box that contained all of her possessions. Well, not all of her possessions, just all of the possessions that had been in her desk—her shared desk—at the Herald.

Colin was playing hardball. Which, he said, a person like her should appreciate. Too bad she wasn’t the kind of person he thought she was. Too bad she was just heartbroken.

She imagined that wedding coverage would start soon. She needed to find a very fluffy blanket to hide under until it all passed. She imagined not even a fluffy blanket would be able to insulate her from that kind of pain. But she couldn’t watch Zayn pledge himself to another woman.

Christine would fall in love with him, that was a certainty. Because how could she not?

“But I loved him first.” She said the words angrily, defiantly, as she continued to walk down the street.

She was the one who had known he wasn’t just stone. She was the one who knew he was flesh and blood. A beating heart.

There was someone standing in front of her building, a tall man, dressed in a suit. She slowed her walk, her eyes pinned to him. His posture was familiar, the way he stood was familiar, everything about him was familiar. But that was impossible. It couldn’t be him. He wouldn’t be here.

He lifted his head, and his eyes locked with hers, and even at this distance, she knew. She stopped, and the box slipped from her fingertips, falling to the sidewalk. A little ladybug planter that had been inside popped out the top of the box and landed on its back on the cement. She looked at it for a moment, but only a moment. Then her eyes went back to the man who was now walking toward her.

“Zayn?”

“I need to talk to you.”

“I thought you said we were never going to speak again.” He had said they wouldn’t see each other. He had said they wouldn’t speak. Oh, how she had needed him to keep that promise. Because she couldn’t look at him again, not without having her heart torn to pieces. And it had already been torn to pieces, barely smashed back together on the flight home, just in the interest of keeping her breathing, and now he was going to destroy it again.

“That was before I realized I had unanswered questions. And I will do what I must to have them all answered.”

“I don’t think I can answer all of your questions.”

“You’re going to. I’m going to start now. Who is Isabelle Harrington to you? Why did you need this scandal for her? What was so important that you came from New York to Surhaadi on the promise of a stranger?”

There was no harm in saying so now. Or maybe there was. Or maybe there had never been. She couldn’t tell anymore. All she knew was that she was tired, tired of dishonesty. Tired of the dull pain in her chest. Tired of how unfair life was.

“Isabelle was the only person who made friends with me when I went to college. She didn’t mind that I was younger, she didn’t mind that I had come from nothing, that my family name wasn’t important. She got me my job at the Herald—I lost that today, by the way—and she needed me.”

“Why?”

“Because I made my boss mad.”

“No, why did Isabelle need you? Why does it require you to get a scandal attached to the Chatsfield name. Because that’s why you did this, isn’t it? I need to know.”

“Yes, I did it for her. Spencer...Spencer Chatsfield. He’s harassing her about buying The Harrington, right out from under her. The hotel is everything to her. And if you knew what Spencer had done to her...Spencer hurt her. Badly. And now he wants to take this from her, too. I swore I wouldn’t let it happen. I swore to her I would help her with the tools I had, the tools that she gave to me. My job. You can understand why I needed to do this. Why I would go with you, why I would skulk around in an alley. Because I needed to. Because I owe Isabelle so much.”

He nodded gravely, and closed the distance between them, tugging her into his arms and kissing her hard, deep on the mouth. She tangled her fingers in his hair and kissed him back, her foot brushing the ladybug planter to the side as she moved in closer.

When they parted, she blinked, breathing hard. “Why would you do that?”

“A scandal is going to hit the paper today. I am sorry if it adversely affects your friend, but I cannot be sorry if it varies the headline about my sister.”

“What have you done, Zayn?”

“I’m going to make an announcement later today that my wedding has been canceled.”

“You canceled your wedding? Permanently...or is this just a way for you to protect Leila?”

“It is certainly a pleasant side effect. But I actually called off the wedding some days ago. Just before you left. Before we last spoke.”

“What?” she asked, her lips numb, her fingers icy. “You did what?”

“I called off the wedding.”

“I’m glad,” she said, reaching to pick up the box from the pavement. Standing up, she stiffened her spine, looking straight ahead, her heart hammering, fingers stiff around the edges of the box. “Because you deserve better than that. You do. You deserve so much more than a loveless marriage. You both do.”

“You were right about that,” he said, his voice rough. “I was punishing myself, using Christine as...part of that. It was unfair of me. And you were brave. You asked for everything from life. While I was still protecting myself. Still paying penance for the sins of my past. I was going to make everyone else pay with me. I was going to make Christine pay. I was going to bind us both to an unhappy union. I realized that I could not do that. Not to her. Not to me.”

“But that doesn’t explain why you kissed me. I thought you hated me. For what I had done.”

“You did it for a friend. You did it to protect someone you love. Part of me knew it had to be something like this. Because I know you. I know you didn’t just do it to hurt me, or to further your career. I know you didn’t do it lightly. I knew the woman that I love wouldn’t do something like that.”

“You...you love me?”

“Yes. In spite of myself. In spite of all this. I do. And it makes me want. It makes me want things I didn’t think I ever would. It makes me want more. More than an endless, blank desert of life stretching out before me. It makes me want color. Laughter. It makes me want you.”

“I can’t believe you ended your engagement for me... I...I...”

“Sophie, I have to tell you...I called Colin Fairfax. He mentioned a trade. A tape. I know you didn’t do this simply to get a scandal. I know there was more. And it isn’t only because of what he said, but because I knew in my gut, in my heart, that you were the woman I fell for out in the desert. I knew that was truly who you were and I think I would have come for you no matter what.”

“Really?”

“I have a bad habit of kidnapping you.”

She laughed, a sniffly, watery sound.

“Sophie....what was the tape? I need to know.”

She wanted to protect him from this. Didn’t want to do anything to destroy the moment, but she owed him honesty. Because she refused to hide herself from him. Refused to hide anything from him.

“I feel like...I do need to tell you this,” she said, the words coming out slowly. “Because I want you to know something. Because I want you to understand that as much as I love Isabelle...I wouldn’t have told about Leila and James if I didn’t have to. Because I love you, Zayn. I love you more than anything or anyone. I would have chosen you. I would have chosen your family. It’s more than just a trade, it’s all of that. And since you know about the recording...I need you to know that.”

She took a shaky breath and continued. “My boss called after I got back to my room and told me he had a recording. He says he got it from Damien’s father. He...he played some of it for me. It’s a recording of you. Of your last altercation with Jasmine. He was going to release it, and I offered him a trade. And to ensure he kept his word...I sort of blackmailed him and threatened to tell his wife he’s been cheating. Well, and then he fired me. But the thing is, I didn’t want you to know about the tape. I don’t want you to ever hear it. I didn’t want it...I didn’t want it out there. Because you have to understand that no matter how sad it is that your last moment with your sister was a bad one, you didn’t force her to make the decision she did. We all make our own choices. I made this one. To protect you. And I sort of sacrificed Leila to do it, and I know you never would have. But that was my choice. You. Always you.”

* * *

Zayn’s heart felt full. Like it would burst. Pain, grief and a strange release were rising in him like a tide.

He had come back for her. But this...this was beyond anything he had imagined.

And yes, it brought about the pain of that day. Knowing there was a recording of those angry words spoken between them, a tape he would never need to hear because he could replay it in his mind without error.

“I do not...I do not deserve this,” he said. It was all he could say, all he could think.

“You’ve saved everyone else, why won’t you let someone save you?” she asked, the words so innocent, so perfect, he could hardly accept them. Could hardly accept that she was real. That she had seen him, and still wanted him. That she knew his darkest secrets, and still loved him.

“Is that what you have come to do?” he asked. “Save me?”

“You kidnapped me. And I grant you, saving your kidnapper...it’s strange. But so are we. I’m...well, I’m the girl from the wrong side of the tracks. And you? You’re a sheikh. We don’t go together.”

Emotion nearly choked him. “Perhaps that is why we are perfect for each other.”

“Zayn...are we? Do you want this? Do you want...me?”

“Yes.” There was no hesitation, because he had known the answer. Always.

“That’s the moment I was waiting for,” she said, her green eyes glittering with tears, “that triumphant moment...it was this all along. I’m Sophie Parsons. You know me. I don’t have any money or any status. Or a job. My bank account is empty. But my heart is full. It’s full of love for you.”

His chest tightened, so much it was painful, his eyes stinging. “I will tell you another story,” he said.

“Will you?”

“Yes. Once there was a man who did things for others, so he would not have to look at the pain inside himself. And he met a princess. But he did not love her. And she did not heal him. Then he met a woman, and he loved her with everything in him. And that love is what healed him.”

“I hope this story has a happy ending,” she said, a tear sliding down her cheek.

“That is up to you.”

“This is like a fairy tale, you know. And I never bothered with those, because I always figured they weren’t for girls like me. But now...now I think...it was always the girl locked in the tower. Or the girl who scrubbed the floors. Or the one whose father didn’t love her. These stories...they’re for everyone. They’re for me. This is for me. So yes, this will have a happy ending. We will have a happy ending.”

“You’re going to have to be a princess now. Sheikha, technically.”

“Me?” She blinked. “But...what will that do for your country?”

“Everything,” he said. “Because I love you. And a wise woman told me that duty void of love is empty. It is only obligation. And I saw that life, stretched before me. And I hated it. I would have grown bitter. I would have grown hard. But with you by my side? With your children as mine? With love? It is what we need. Without it...without it all, good intentions are dead. I need you, Sophie Parsons, just as you are.”

She leaned in, kissing him, tears running down her cheeks. And he could feel her smile against his lips.

“Zayn, you love me. I wouldn’t ask for another life. For the first time, I’m so very happy to be me.”

* * * * *