Читать книгу Secret Heirs Collection - Кейт Хьюит, Коллектив авторов - Страница 57

‘IT LOOKS LIKE she’s telling the truth, Zac. Her father’s operation is tomorrow. And there’s been no other transfer of funds that we can find. It’s literally just the hospital costs. We’ve no reason to believe her father is involved in any way.’

Zac sat in his chair in his office, hands steepled under his chin. With a mounting feeling of vague dread in his belly he said, ‘Okay, thanks, Simon. Will you see to it that all the costs are taken care of?’

‘Of course—and do you still want to go ahead with the contract you outlined?’

‘Yes, as soon as possible.’ Even though that made him feel uneasy now too.

‘Consider it done.’

When the call was terminated Zac stood up and went over to the window, feeling restless. On edge. He could see the Statue of Liberty. And the Brooklyn Bridge. It was from here that he had overseen his resurrection. And yet now the sense of accomplishment he usually felt didn’t fizz in his veins.

All he could see was Rose’s face last night, when that light had dimmed in her eyes and she’d said in a brittle voice, ‘It was worth a try.’

When he’d returned to his apartment there had been no trace of her apart from the faintest lingering of her scent. Even that had had an effect on him. Enough to make him come up with some half-baked excuse to go to the adjoining apartment and knock on the door.

When there’d been no answer the concierge had let him in and Zac had prowled the rooms, as restless as a panther. She hadn’t been there either. All the clothes he’d bought her had been hanging up neatly. And the black dress had lain across the bed in the master suite. A mocking reminder of the lengths she’d gone to.

Panic mixed with anger had roiled in his gut. Suspicion had mounted that she’d gone back to his grandmother’s, figuring she could battle him for custody from there, but then he’d seen a piece of paper on the table by the door with his name on it.

Zac, thank you for the offer of the apartment but I’ll be more comfortable at home in Queens. I’m going to be with my father at the clinic until after his operation, and then, when he comes home, I’ll help him recuperate, if all goes well.

As you didn’t want to see me anyway, I’m sure you can’t find fault with this. I’ll be in touch once the baby is born to let you know everything is okay, and perhaps then we can discuss plans to go forward.

In the meantime you can send the contract, or any other correspondence to my Queens address.

Rose

Just thinking of the letter now made Zac feel sicker. And he hated it. Wasn’t that exactly what he’d said he wanted? For her to all but disappear from his life?

She’d offered him the perfect out, and once she signed the contract he was having drawn up he’d be able to rest assured that his child would be brought up a Valenti. He would have what he wanted and he could get on with his life… So why did he feel so antsy? And why did he keep thinking of what she’d said about the night they’d met?

‘I hoped you’d be gone, but then we met… I truly didn’t want to betray you…’

It made him remember how she’d looked when he’d first seen her—as if she’d wanted to escape.

And then how time and time again she’d told him she had to go, only for him to persuade her to stay, beguiling her. Cajoling. Seducing.

Disgusted with himself for ruminating on this, and for allowing doubts to fester, Zac turned around—just as his office door opened with a bang and the last person in the world he wanted to see walked through it, with his assistant in an obvious flap behind her.

‘Zac, I’m so sorry. I told her you weren’t to be disturbed but she wouldn’t listen.’

He managed to say coolly, ‘It’s fine, Daniel. You can leave us.’ He added with an edge as his anger mounted, ‘I think I can manage my grandmother.’

The door closed and Zac looked at the woman who had shoved him aside rather than let him offer her any affection. She was only five foot two, but to Zac as a child she had appeared a giant. Not any more.

A cold, hard hatred settled in his belly. No matter what Rose had done, this woman was the real architect behind the plan. Ever since her husband had died she’d become even more zealous about the family name. As if she could still try to please her dead husband.

Zac folded his arms over his chest and said, ‘To what do I owe the pleasure, Grandmother dearest?’

Jocelyn Lyndon-Holt, clad in a pristine designer suit, was white in the face and vibrating with barely concealed fury. Zac might have enjoyed her agitation if he’d felt more relaxed, but he had a bad sense of foreboding.

She stalked towards him on thin legs and threw down a sheaf of papers on his desk. ‘You can tell that little tart of yours that I didn’t appreciate her visit yesterday, and that she’ll be facing the full might of my legal team if she thinks she can break the contract she signed with me. Not to mention the non-disclosure agreement. Needless to say the press will have a field-day when they discover that she set out to deliberately seduce you for her own gain.’

The dread Zac had been feeling solidified in his gut. He looked down at the sheaf of papers on his desk. Torn-up papers. Legalese language: I the undersigned do hereby agree to… I agree never to disclose…

He looked at his grandmother, his brain locking on to one thing. ‘She visited you?’

The older woman’s too-smooth face couldn’t show her full fury, but it came through in her shaking voice. ‘She had the gall to come into my house and demand to see me—to tell me that she wanted her baby to be a Valenti. She’s a romantic and naive fool indeed if she heard your sob story and now thinks that you can offer her some sort of a happy ending. We both know that doesn’t exist—don’t we, Zachary?’

We both know that doesn’t exist…

Zac felt as if someone had just shocked him back to life… Hadn’t he on some level, ever since he’d learnt about his parents, hoped that it did exist? Hadn’t he based his whole resurrection on some kind of hope for…more?

He hadn’t let himself believe in it in an emotional sense—too cowardly after a lifetime of being denied love—so he’d channelled it into his work. Believing that power would fill the gap of more.

And then he’d met Rose and the gap had opened again—painfully—showing him that he did want so much more, and to believe in purity and honesty. Until he’d found out that she’d betrayed him and he’d felt like an abject fool.

He walked around the desk to his grandmother and bit out, ‘When did she come to see you?’

She glared up at him. ‘That’s all you care about? When you know I can crush you and your reputation to pieces?’

He restrained himself from shaking her. ‘Old woman, tell me now—or, so help me God, I’ll bury the name of Lyndon-Holt so deep that it’ll never be spoken of again or remembered.’

Something of his deadly cold fury seemed to get through to her and she said grudgingly, ‘Yesterday afternoon.’ Her voice became vitriolic. ‘She didn’t even want money, stupid girl. She just wanted her father’s operation to be paid for. I should have known then she was a useless sentimental fool, and I had my doubts—especially when she left her sorry little note saying that she couldn’t go through with it—but then I forced her to meet you again and she actually got pregnant…’

Zac turned to ice. He couldn’t deny the truth any longer. Everything slid into terrifying, horrifying place. Rose really had been just an innocent, scared woman. Very naive, yes, but innocent. Dear God, above all innocent.

He managed to restrain himself from exploding and said frigidly, ‘First of all, she is not stupid. Not even remotely. Second of all, you found a distraught, upset employee and you took advantage of her. You used her sick father’s life to manipulate her. And you have the temerity to judge her?’

Zac’s voice had risen almost to a roar by the end.

Jocelyn Lyndon-Holt’s cold blue eyes narrowed on her grandson. No hint of love or emotion. She said disdainfully, ‘You really are your mother’s son, aren’t you? Repeating history all over again. You’ve fallen for a naive little innocent when you could have had everything, Zachary. There would have been no limit to where you could have ended up.’

Zac just shook his head. He thought of himself looking back to where he’d left Rose in that ballroom the previous evening and seeing nothing but an empty space. He thought of the empty apartment and her note.

‘You’re right, you know,’ he said bleakly. ‘I could have had everything but I let it go. Now, get out of my sight—before I have you thrown out.’

Rose held her father’s hand in hers. Tears blurred her vision when he opened his eyes and squinted at her, saying croakily, ‘Roisín, is that you, love?’

She brushed away the tears. ‘Yes, Dad, it’s me. I’m right here.’

He sounded wonderstruck, his eyes clearing. He looked around. ‘It’s over, then? And I’m still alive?’

Rose let out a half-laugh full of relief and gratitude. ‘Yes, it’s over. And, yes, you’re alive. You did amazingly. The doctor said you’ve got another thirty years in you, at least.’

‘Oh, now…’ her father said, with a tired but relieved smile. ‘Sure, what would I be doing with another thirty years?’

She took his hand and put it on her belly. She said emotionally, ‘Well, for a start, you’ll be helping me with Junior and telling him or her all about where they come from.’

‘So it wasn’t a dream, then?’

She shook her head and forced a smile. No, it hadn’t been a dream. It was a bit of a nightmare, actually, now that she’d have to figure out how best to deal with Zac and the inevitable repercussions from having stood up to Mrs Lyndon-Holt. But for the moment things were good. Her father was safe and that was all that mattered. She would worry about the rest later.

Her father frowned. ‘The father, Roisín—’

Rose said quickly, ‘Shh… Don’t be thinking about that now. I’ll tell you about him when you’re feeling stronger.’ She bent and pressed a kiss to his cheek, then pulled back. ‘Get some rest now—you need it.’

It was a sign of his weakness that he didn’t push the subject but just emitted a harumph and slipped back into sleep.

Rose stood up, her muscles aching from sitting by his bed for so long while she’d waited for him to come round from the anaesthetic. She sent him one last look and made sure all his monitors and wires seemed to be functioning okay, then slipped out of the room.

She was exhausted. Relieved, but exhausted. And, as much as she didn’t feel like it, she needed to eat. Ever since the other night her appetite had disappeared, but she resolutely turned her mind away from going back down that road.

She’d already set off down the corridor when she remembered she’d left her purse in her father’s room. She turned around to go back—and walked straight into a wall. A wall that had its hands on her arms, steadying her. A wall that had a very familiar scent. A wall that wasn’t really a wall.

She looked up and her head swam. The wall was Zac Valenti.

She blinked. He was still there. She was very afraid she was on the verge of fainting for the first time in her life and she sucked in a breath.

Zac gripped her tighter. ‘Rose? Are you okay?’

She pulled herself together, but she knew she was way too light-headed to deal with Zac right now—if she wasn’t, in fact, hallucinating. ‘I’m just hungry. I need to eat something.’

With typical Zac-like efficiency Rose found herself sitting at a table under the unforgiving fluorescent lighting of the clinic’s canteen within minutes. He had put a bowl of admittedly dubious-looking spaghetti bolognese in front of her and was looking at her.

Tightly he said, ‘It was the most edible-looking thing there. Eat some.’

Too exhausted to deal with the reality that he was there, she dutifully ate some of the rubbery pasta and washed it down with water. When she felt a little more fortified she said warily, ‘Why are you here, Zac?’

He sat back in the chair, his body huge against the functional furniture. ‘I wanted to make sure that your father was doing okay.’

Rose felt heat climb into her face and she said, ‘Thank you. The clinic told me that you’d taken over the bills from your grandmother. You really don’t know what this—’

‘Stop,’ he said, cutting her off and sitting up straight. He looked a little angry. ‘You don’t have to say thank you. My grandmother had no right to take such advantage of you. Your father had been her employee—the least he deserved was help in his time of need.’

Rose had to stop her jaw from dropping. She wanted to pinch herself. Because she had to be dreaming.

As if Zac could read her thoughts, he grimaced slightly. ‘Look, the other night…at that function…it was hard for me to trust that you were telling the truth.’

Rose’s heart thudded painfully. ‘And you do now?’

He nodded, and Rose’s insides swooped.

‘What happened?’

Zac sighed. ‘I was beginning to suspect I’d got it all wrong, and then my grandmother came to see me. She told me that you’d ripped up the contract in front of her and declared your intention to have this child be a Valenti. When I came back from Italy and you explained everything, I didn’t know that you’d already been to her. You’d burnt your bridges and I didn’t realise it. Why didn’t you tell me?’ He sounded almost accusing now.

Rose said weakly, ‘I went to see her first because I needed you to know that I’d put my trust in you even before I’d had a chance to put forward my case. But when you came back I was nervous…scared of how you’d react. It didn’t seem relevant to mention your grandmother once you’d agreed to help my father.’

Zac’s voice had a bleak tone to it. ‘No, your first thought wasn’t to maximise your own defence—it was for your father.’ Then he asked curiously, ‘What would you have done if I’d said no?’

Rose shrugged minutely, ashamed now of this evidence that she’d trusted him so implicitly. ‘I hadn’t really thought that far ahead.’

Zac just looked at her for an unnervingly long moment, and then he said, ‘When we first met…you blew me away. I’d never met anyone like you. I believed you were who you said you were. And then…I felt like a fool. It merely confirmed for me that nothing so pure could exist.’

Rose felt emotion rising. ‘But it did—I did—as messed up as it was. And I couldn’t say anything because I was terrified of what your grandmother could do to my father.’ Rose stopped when she said that, a familiar worry coming back to her. ‘Is she going to take me to court?’

Zac looked fierce. ‘No, of course not. The threat of my revealing the truth of my parentage was enough to make her contemplate emigration.’

Rose’s eyes widened. ‘You’d do that?’

Zac’s mouth compressed. ‘It’s time to tell my parents’ story. I’m not ashamed of it.’

She felt even more emotional now. ‘I think you’re right—their memories don’t deserve to be locked away forever, as if they did something wrong.’

Suddenly Rose felt very vulnerable as the shock of seeing Zac wore off and she had to contemplate why he had come—now that he knew she hadn’t set out to ruin him in league with his grandmother.

He was obviously remorseful, and Rose was still getting her head around that, but he also now seemed to believe what she’d told him the other night—that she loved him. And he obviously pitied her. The mother of his child…in love with him…how tragic. He must feel doubly responsible now, and the thought of that made her feel almost breathless with excruciating humiliation.

She stood up. ‘Look, thank you for coming all the way up here, but I really need to focus on my father now. And I’m grateful for your help with the operation, but I have every intention of paying you back. I know it’ll take years, but I’ll do it.’

Now Zac looked angry, and he stood up too. ‘I’m not here to demand payment. I’m here because—’

Rose held up her hand, stopping him, because she didn’t want to hear him say anything about responsibility, and quickly lowered it again when she noticed it was shaking. ‘Just go—please. I’m sure you’re busy, and we can talk about arrangements for the baby another time, okay?’

She started to walk out of the canteen and heard from behind her, ‘Rose—dammit.’ But she kept going. If she stopped he’d see how close to the edge she was.

When she got to her father’s floor she looked behind her and let out a shaky breath when she didn’t see Zac. She felt a mixture of relief and disappointment.

After she’d gone in and checked on her father one of the nurses came in and handed her a note, saying with a knowing wink, ‘Honey, if that guy comes in again please send him my way.’

Rose forced a smile and opened the note, which was curt.

I’m not leaving. I’ll be at the local hotel, so if you need anything call me. Zac.

She scowled, even as her heart lurched betrayingly. She wouldn’t be calling him. She didn’t need anything from Zac Valenti—certainly not his sense of obvious obligation.

But just then, as if to remind her that she did actually need something from him—a lifetime of support—she felt a little kick in her belly. Tears of emotion came to her eyes. She’d been feeling definite movements for the past week, but trust Junior to make his or her presence known now—right when the autocratic father turned up.

‘This is where she’s been sleeping?’

The angry voice woke Rose, and she opened her eyes to see Zac towering over her small cot bed in the tiny family room on her father’s floor at the clinic. A young male nurse was fairly cowering in front of Zac.

‘Does this really look like suitable accommodation for a pregnant woman?’

The nurse went red.

Rose sat up and put a hand to her head when it swam. She hadn’t slept that well, and fatigue washed over her.

Zac was down on his haunches in front of her. ‘Are you okay?’

Before she could say anything he cursed and stood again. He was on his phone in seconds, issuing instructions, and Rose saw the nurse take his chance to escape further censure.

She forced herself to stand as Zac was putting his phone away.

He took her arm. ‘When was the last time you ate a decent meal or slept properly?’

Rose blinked. She couldn’t actually remember.

Zac cursed again and said ominously, ‘Right—that’s it.’

He led her out of the tiny room and stood in front of her. She wanted to scowl at him for being so dominant and gorgeous first thing in the morning.

‘My car is downstairs. My driver is going to take you back to my hotel, where you are going to—’ He held up a hand when Rose opened her mouth, and waited till she’d shut it again before continuing, ‘Where you are going to eat breakfast and then go to bed in my room for a few hours. After that I’ll have a room arranged for you.’

‘But I can’t just leave! My father—’

‘Your father will be fine. I’ll stay with him.’

Rose’s belly swooped. ‘But you’re busy…’

Zac held up his phone, which admittedly looked as if it could launch a nuclear missile. ‘Nothing I can’t handle from here. Now, go—or I’ll put you over my shoulder.’

The thought of Zac touching her and seeing how much she still wanted him was enough to galvanise her into moving. She checked on her still sleeping father and then Zac accompanied her downstairs.

He said sternly, ‘I don’t want to see you until after you’ve slept and had lunch.’

Feeling thoroughly bemused, Rose did as she was told, and had to admit that being looked after was seductive enough to be dangerous.

When she did return to the hospital later, feeling much more herself again after some sleep, followed by a long hot shower and food, she stopped in her father’s doorway and took in the sight. Zac was sitting by the bed talking to her father, who was laughing weakly at whatever Zac had just said.

They both looked up and saw her at the same time, and her father put out his hand. He already looked so much better.

‘Roisín, look who it is! Zachary Lyndon-Holt—’ Her father stopped and flushed and looked at Zac. ‘Sorry, son, it’s hard to remember you’re not—’

Zac smiled, ‘It’s fine, Mr O’Malley.’

Her father went red. ‘Stop that. It’s Séamus to you.’

Rose’s heart swelled so much she thought it might burst. Danger. Because what would happen when Zac got bored with this responsibility and went again?

She came into the room and said pointedly to Zac, ‘I’m here now. I’m sure you have things to attend to…’

His eyes flashed, but he uncoiled his big body from the chair and stretched—which didn’t help her hormone levels. Then he said pointedly, ‘A word, Rose? Before I go?’

She nodded and went out with him after he’d said goodbye to her father.

She faced him. ‘Look, Zac—’

‘No, you look. I’m not going anywhere, and this is how it’s going to happen. There’s a room for you at the hotel. We are going to take it in turns to visit your father until he’s ready to go home, and there’s nothing you can do about it.’

Rose’s mouth stayed open and Zac’s gaze dropped there for a moment. Electricity zinged between them.

His gaze came up again. ‘I’ll see you later, Rose.’

And then he turned and sauntered off and left her feeling frustrated, irritated, grateful…and generally in turmoil.

Over the following week they developed a routine. Zac would do the mornings, until after lunch, and then Rose would stay with her father until late and go to the hotel to sleep. She and Zac passed each other like relay runners in a race. They didn’t have any more conversations, but she knew the time would come when they would have to sit down and talk things through. Discuss what would happen once the baby was born.

She felt the attraction between them, but all she could think about was Zac’s rejection after that night in Italy. Even if his eyes did linger on her, it didn’t mean anything, she was only projecting her own pathetic desire onto him.

Her father had guessed that Zac was the baby’s father, but thankfully seemed inclined to let Rose and Zac off the hook for now. She felt his shrewd blue gaze on them, though, whenever they were together.

When the time came for her father to be sent home Zac had it organised with military precision. They were driven home in a luxurious people carrier—with a nurse from the hospital who was going to spend a couple of days at the house, making sure everything was set up properly for her father’s recovery.

The house had been modified in Rose’s absence, to accommodate her father’s medical requirements, and Zac had also arranged for twenty-four-seven nursing care. When she’d opened her mouth to protest, he’d just looked at her explicitly. He’d also arranged for a local woman who knew Rose and her father well to come and cook for them, and generally keep house.

Sometimes Rose didn’t know which was worse—Zac’s suffocating taking over of the situation or his animosity. She thought she’d nearly prefer it if she was struggling on her own, because she knew how to do that, but then she looked at her father in his bed, in his own home, so relaxed, and she felt churlish.

A week later Zac had more or less returned full-time to the city, but he was calling about five times a day to check in. Rose’s nerves were strung so tight that she jumped a mile high when the doorbell rang.

She went to answer it and a courier was on the other side of the door, with a big box and an envelope. When she took them from him he looked a little embarrassed and said, ‘I’m supposed to wait for a return note.’

Rose let him come in and help himself to a drink in the kitchen while she went into the quiet living room to open the box. She peeled back the tissue paper to see horribly familiar shimmering black material. She pulled out the black dress…and quickly let it drop from her hands when a wave of fresh mortification washed through her.

She remembered how it had felt to stand in front of Zac and tell him she loved him so earnestly…and the way he’d taken his hand out from under hers over her belly. As if he’d been burnt.

She picked up the envelope reluctantly and a card fell out. She could read it without touching it.

Please meet me at my apartment this evening. A car will be waiting for you. Come when you’re ready…

Zac

Rose felt sick. This was what it had come to? He had helped them—beyond anything Rose had ever expected—and now he would take his due? There was some final humiliation to be had?

She felt angry, disappointed…but resigned. She owed Zac. And if he wanted her to come to him like some kind of sacrificial lamb…in this dress that symbolised so much…then what choice did she have? But she would hold her head high and he would never know what it cost her.

She quickly scrawled a note on the other side of the card and went out and handed it to the courier, who left again.

It was late when Rose was finally crossing over the bridge into Manhattan. The car had been waiting for her for hours. She wasn’t playing a game, but the nurse had been a little worried about her father’s temperature being raised and Rose had wanted to make sure he was okay. She’d only left once he was asleep and the nurse had been sure there was nothing to worry about.

Her gut was a tight ball of nerves. She was wearing the dress and she’d put up her hair and made an effort with her make-up.

The car pulled up outside Zac’s building far too soon, and the doorman opened her door with a polite, ‘Good evening, Miss O’Malley. Mr Valenti is waiting for you in his apartment. You’re to go straight up.’

She forced a smile and went into the lobby, where the concierge had Zac’s private lift ready and waiting. As it ascended her stomach felt as if it was going in the other direction. It didn’t help to recall going down in the same lift that first night, and how she’d felt as if she was returning to where she belonged.

She was unbelievably nervous. Her palms were clammy.

The doors opened and she stepped into the foyer of Zac’s apartment. Her heels seemed to make a ridiculous amount of noise as she walked through on the marble floor. The living area was quiet. No sound. He wasn’t in the kitchen. She looked quickly into the bedrooms. No sign.

The baby kicked then, as if urging her to keep looking.

She went back towards the living room and spotted an open door, recognising it as the door that led from the apartment up to the garden. Her pulse quickened. She picked up the dress so it wouldn’t catch, and went up the circular stone steps.

The door at the top was open and she walked outside. The sense of déjà vu almost knocked her off her feet. The air was balmy. The lights glittered. The garden was as magical as she remembered.

She walked along the path and it hit her why Zac had built this garden—obviously for his parents. Her heart ached, but she kept going.

And then a familiar voice broke the silence. ‘I thought you weren’t coming.’

She looked up to see Zac, dressed in a tuxedo, standing on the small terrace above the garden. She instantly felt dizzy, and her pulse-rate tripled. The baby kicked again.

She put a hand on her belly. ‘My father’s temperature was raised. I wanted to make sure he was okay.’

Zac frowned. ‘Is he?’

She nodded. ‘He’s fine, thank you.’

Zac didn’t make a move, so Rose kept going. His eyes were on her, unnervingly intense all the way. She walked up the steps, feeling acutely self-conscious. The dress hadn’t been made to accommodate a growing baby bump, so the material was stretched across her belly even more than it had been the last time.

When she got within a couple of feet of Zac she stopped. She’d thought she could do this—hold her head up high and give him whatever he wanted and then walk away again. But now, in front of him, it wasn’t so easy. Past and present were meshing painfully. That first night whispered around them like a mocking echo of what Rose had yearned for so much, knowing she could never have it.

Standing here in front of him with a pregnant belly was the biggest mockery of all.

She took a step back. Too much emotion was rising up. Scaring her.

Zac put out a hand as if to reach for her and she panicked. ‘I’m sorry. I thought I could do this…but I can’t.’

Zac frowned. ‘What are you talking about?’ His hand dropped.

Rose gestured to the dress, much as she had the other night, with a shaking hand. ‘This. You want to make some sort of point… Maybe you want an affair for a while…until you’re bored and you can relegate me to the sidelines as mother of your child… I know I owe you, Zac—I owe you more than I can ever repay you. But I don’t think I can do it like this.’

He came towards her then, with a savage look on his face. Rose only knew she’d backed away when she hit the railing where they’d stood and looked out over the view that first night. Dammit, she wished the memories would quit. She was going mad.

‘You think I brought you here like this as some sort of twisted fantasy? That I’d get a kick out of seeing you in that dress again and just want you for a finite amount of time?’

He’d put his hands on the railing now and boxed her in. He was so close that her belly was almost touching him.

‘You do owe me…’ he said then.

‘I know I do!’ Rose almost wailed it, willing herself not to respond and melt. ‘No one knows that more than me.’

He lifted a hand and cupped her jaw, and every sinew in Rose’s body pulled taut against her inevitable reaction.

‘For the past couple of weeks you’ve been keeping me at a distance and I won’t have it—not when you told me you loved me. Why are you acting as if you didn’t?’

Rose’s breath stopped dead. She wanted to dissolve and disappear. This was excruciating. She’d thought Zac was ruthless before, but this…this was sheer cruelty.

Angry at how he was forcing her complete humiliation, she said, ‘Because I’m not a masochist. That’s why I can’t do this…’

He said now, ‘When I said you owe me, I meant that you owe me nothing but your trust. Do you know why I asked you here like this? In this dress?’

Rose tried not to seize on what he’d said about her only owing him her trust. It was too dangerous.

‘Because you want me to start paying you back… Because it turns you on… Because I embarrassed you when I turned up at the function… I don’t know, Zac…’

‘You’re right about one thing: it does turn me on.’

Rose felt her nerves sizzling.

‘But the real reason is because I want to start again. I want us to recreate that night—except this time without any malevolent manipulation dictating events. We’re just two people who’ve never met before. No agenda.’

Hardly daring to breathe or to hope, Rose whispered, ‘Why? If all you want is an affair—’

‘Your words,’ he cut in. ‘Not mine.’ He shook his head. ‘You still don’t get it, do you? I haven’t brought you here just to sleep with you, or to continue some temporary affair. You’re here because you’ve brought me to my knees. Because everything that I ever believed was important means nothing unless you’re with me.’

He wasn’t finished.

‘I don’t just want one night…or a few weeks or months. I want every night and day. I want you and me and our baby—together. And I want that forever.’

Rose shook her head incredulously. Her heart was pounding wildly. ‘You didn’t believe me when I told you how I felt… How do I know you believe me now?’

Zac was intense. ‘Because I trust in that girl I met who was so conflicted…who just wanted to do the right thing but was falling, just like I was. I trust in the purity of what we felt for each other, regardless of how we came to meet.’

It was too much. The hope was too much… She had too far to fall, and Zac had distrusted her for so long.

She broke away and turned her back to him, standing at the railing, holding on with both hands, knuckles white. Her throat ached…her eyes burned. And then she closed her eyes helplessly when she felt him behind her, wrapping his arms around her. His hands spread across her swollen belly with a possessiveness that made her blood sing.

He said over her head, ‘I love you, Rose, and I’m not letting you go. Not until you believe me.’

She was crying now in earnest, silently. But he could feel her sobs and he just held her until they stopped. The baby kicked under his hands.

She felt Zac go still behind her, and then he said with a choked voice, ‘See? It’s two against one.’

As he held her and she looked out over the view, she felt something wild and soaring take root inside her. The past and the present…and the future? Could it really start here again?

She gathered all her courage and turned in his arms and looked up. Her face had to be ravaged from her tears, but she didn’t care. She looked, deep into those blue eyes, and saw nothing but a blazing truth, as if he could burn it into her with sheer will. And a question. Could she give them another chance? Could she trust him?

Rose tugged free of Zac’s hold and stepped back. The stark pain she saw in his eyes when she broke free told her everything. And that she never wanted to see it again.

She took a deep, not entirely stable breath and held out her hand. ‘I’m Rose O’Malley—nice to meet you.’

Zac’s eyes flashed with something fierce. Relief. Joy. And love. He smiled and took her hand. ‘Zac Valenti—nice to meet you too.’ Then he cocked his head on one side. ‘With a name and colouring like that you must be Irish?’

Her heart felt as if it would explode in her chest, but she answered, ‘My parents emigrated here before I was born.’

Zac kept hold of her hand and slowly started pulling her towards him. ‘Why haven’t I seen you around before?’

Rose smiled tremulously and let herself be pulled. ‘I’m from Queens, and I’m afraid I’m just a humble maid.’

Zac pulled her right into his body and said, in a suspiciously choked-sounding voice, ‘As it happens, just humble maids are some of my favourite people.’ He threaded a hand through Rose’s hair, ‘Would you think it very forward of me if I kissed you, even though we’ve only just met?’

Rose’s voice wobbled even more as she said emotionally, ‘Only as long as you promise never to stop.’

‘That,’ Zac said reverently as he bent his head towards hers, ‘I can promise.’

And so that night, on a beautiful rooftop, in the middle of a magical garden high in the dark velvet sky, they started again.