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“Thanks. Terribly brilliant of you to do this.” Christian read the first page. “You have her measurements, height and weight on here. And blood type?”
“Google wasn’t my only resource.”
“Nice to know the Romanov name is actually being used for good. So that’s what Bo’Jangles is. Hmm, they don’t have any around here.” He raised a brow and glanced at Sasha. “Imagine.”
“You want me to have something flown in?”
“No, she’s leaving tomorrow morning and I plan on joining her.”
“You can’t,” Sasha said.
Christian jerked his head up. “I can and I will.” Wherever Zoe went, he would follow. Eagerly.
Sasha pulled out his blackberry. “You’re to be in Burma by the twentieth. Filming starts the day after. It’s already been delayed once, Christian. Another push back and it’s killed.”
Christian cursed, knowing that Sasha was right and that he couldn’t do this to Khandiri. He’d made promises and invested in the Burma project. To not show up would be unthinkable, not to mention a personal insult.
But what would Zoe think and more importantly how would she feel? He wanted to punch a wall. He closed his eyes and mentally got himself together before striding to his bedroom. At the bedroom door, he turned and frisbeed the papers at Sasha. “Put this where I can find it later, and give her one about me.”
“Can I at least throw a party?” Sasha called out.
“Have at it.”
Chapter Nineteen
Christian strode inside just as Zoe walked out of the bathroom. She was wearing one of his robes and her hair was freshly washed. They met in the middle of the room, staring at one another until her cheeks flushed.
“Hi,” she said softly.
He cleared his throat. “I can’t go home with you tomorrow.”
Her brow wrinkled, then smoothed. “You want me to come home with you instead, like before?”
“No.”
“Oh, okay… I understand.”
“No you don’t, love. I have a prior commitment to make a documentary. It’s in a country that’s not very hospitable to foreign women, especially American ones.”
“But it’s okay for you?” Concern shone in her eyes.
“Yes.” Taking her hand in his, he rubbed the makeshift wedding band on her finger. “Anyway, to show you how much I’d rather be with you and that I’m coming home after two weeks,” He dug into his pocket and pulled out a small box, “I want you to have this.”
Flicking it open with his thumb, he waited for her reaction, but there was none. Not one gasp or sigh or ‘Good Lord’ from her. Nothing.
An uncomfortable silence stretched between them.
Finally she said, “It’s beautiful.”
He wanted to ask her what was wrong. Instead he let go of her hand long enough to free the ring. “Take off that one.”
She shook her head. “No, this is the ring we got married with. I don’t need a fancier one.”
“But this will fit better and it’s a family heirloom—my grandmother’s, actually,” he said, thinking the reason for the silence must have been because she didn’t want to hurt his feelings by being excited. Zoe had such a soft heart, and he intended for her to stay that way. There was no way in hell he was exposing her to the Hollywood lifestyle. Or his family. The ocean between them wasn’t far enough away from his wife.
“Slide it on and the other will stay put,” she conceded.
“You are one stubborn woman, but I appreciate you not wanting to hurt my feelings.”
The rings flashed in the filtered sunlight and a memory bubbled to the surface, catching him off guard with its inconveniently timed clarity.
“How do I know you’ll actually show up?” Amber teased between good-bye kisses.
He slid the one of the two platinum rings he always wore off and onto her finger. “I’ll want this back tomorrow.” He glanced down. The ring seemed to glow. “Your hand looks lovely adorned like this. Or rather the ring is a lovely adornment for the hand. It’ll be the only way I’ll know it’s you without the mask.”
Dammit.
He had to get this ring off of Zoe’s finger. He wanted nothing of Amber tainting what he had with Zoe. He reached for her hand, but she forestalled him with a hug and leaned back in his embrace.
“Men—stroke your egos and y’all fall at our feet,” she said, winking at him.
He lowered his mouth to hers. “At the very least I should get a thank you kiss.”
“While I should get a wedding night.” She nibbled on his bottom lip.
Desire flared and he cupped her face to bring her closer. The memories of Amber fell away and so did all thoughts of confiscating his ring. “We keep getting interrupted, but tonight I don’t care if God Himself comes knocking.”
“Poor thing.” Her eyes darkened. She fisted the material of his shirt and pulled him closer. “Why should we wait for tonight?”
“Brilliant woman.”
As if on cue, a knock sounded on their door.
“Dammit, Sasha, what the hell do you want now?” he growled as she let go of him.
“Baxter is here with his entourage to take pictures of the deliriously happy newlyweds.” Sasha opened the door. “Martha sent him. Said to remind the two of you that it’s in your contract. And for Zoe not to wear anything that plays music. Whatever that means.”
Christian looked at Zoe. She mouthed the word denied, then covered her mouth with her hand while her shoulders shook. Laugh at him would she? He’d teach her a lesson. “Send them in.”
Sasha’s forehead scrunched. “In here?”
Christian unbuttoned his shirt. “Over there, to be more precise.” He waved his hand in the general direction of the bed.
“Absolutely not.” She shook her head, wet strands of hair flying. “I’m not doing a nude photo shoot with you in bed. My parents could see it!”
Christian gave her an angelic smile. “That’s a fantastic idea. I’ll be sure to tell Baxter what you, I mean, we have in mind. Remember, it’s in our contract.”
***
If looks could kill, Christian would be six feet under as of twenty minutes ago. Zoe was still murdering him with her eyes as a team of make-up artists and hair stylists got them ready. She sat in a chair, a white sheet wrapped around her.
“It’s time for the lovebirds to get into their nest,” Baxter called out, completely into the exclusive bed shots of the semi-nude couple he would soon have stored on his memory stick.
