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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.’
