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Caterers and florists would be arriving throughout the day and later the room would be put on show to New York’s finest. There would be prospective clients and party animals, as well as journalists who would be recording the event and garnering publicity for Zak’s latest venture.
And afterwards? When the dried-up canapés and half-drunk glasses of champagne had been cleared away—what then? She bit her lip, unable to stop the sudden sinking of her heart. Her work would be completed. She would be free to go back to London … leaving Zak behind.
She tried to shake off her feeling of impatience—as much at her own stupidity as anything else. Because she’d realised the danger of becoming the lover of Zak Constantinides all along. She had realised it and chosen to ignore it, with an arrogance fuelled by her own passionate desire. Forgetting that if you flew too close to the sun, you tended to get burned, when she, of all people, should have known that.
‘It certainly is,’ she said brightly. ‘The biggest night of all.’
His lips moved to her bare shoulders. ‘So you don’t want me wearing you out with sex beforehand, now, do you?’
She couldn’t help herself. Her hands reached up to his neck, her fingers caressing the thick waves of hair which grew there. ‘Don’t I?’ she whispered,
her mouth brushing against the newly shaved smoothness of his jaw. ‘Are you quite sure about that?’
It was the most innocent of touches and yet Zak felt the jackknifing of desire shafting through him, his hand automatically slipping down to cup the heavy weight of her breast. How in tune their bodies were, he thought. He’d never known such instant compatibility—not from women with years more experience than Emma. Was that because he’d taught her pretty much everything she knew, or because he’d opened up to her with uncharacteristic frankness? Sometimes he felt as if she’d stripped away the protective layers with which he shielded himself—and glimpsed the person he kept hidden from the world. He felt as if Emma knew him better than anyone else—and didn’t that scare him a little?
And now she was looking at him with those shining green eyes, her lips soft with promise and her body even softer as her thighs parted instinctively beneath the white swathing of the linen sheet.
For a moment he wavered—tempted to strip off his carefully pressed suit and drop it to the ground. To pull back the covers and lose himself in her molten sweetness. Briefly, he closed his eyes as he imagined that first delicious thrust before reminding himself that he didn’t have time. More importantly, he didn’t have the inclination to demonstrate just how persuasive he found her. Because wasn’t it high time to build some immunity against her seductive hold on him—to prepare them both for her imminent departure?
Abruptly, he stepped away from the bed, raking his fingers back through his hair. She was leaving tomorrow—and he had better get used to that.
‘Quite sure,’ he growled. ‘Just as I don’t think it’s a great idea having breakfast with the CEO of a major bank if I can still taste you on my lips and on my fingers. You need to be fresh and rested before you face a very critical New York audience. So go back to sleep and I’ll see you later at the opening. Okay?’
‘Okay.’ Filled with frustration and a sudden wariness about something she’d seen in his eyes, Emma lay back until the door had clicked shut behind him, but she was never going to get back to sleep after that. Instead, she showered and dressed and then painted her fingernails in a pearly white colour to reflect the wedding theme of the party. But despite the soothing strokes of the brush, her thoughts kept spinning off on to random tracks which always brought her back to the same place. Or, rather, the same person.
Zak.
She knew it was time to leave. She’d known that all along—and yet with each second that passed she realised how much it was going to hurt to say goodbye to him. Especially since now she had a catalogue of memories which felt stupidly and temptingly … happy.
Hadn’t she prayed that Zak hadn’t really meant it when he’d told her about his views on permanence? That he’d make an exception for her. Was she mad? Just because they’d shared a few soft and tender moments after orgasm and could make each other laugh, didn’t mean it was any way permanent.
She was doing what she had vowed not to. Trying to cling to something which had a natural end in sight, just as her mother had always done when she’d sensed that one of her lovers was cooling towards her. And she had to stop it. Right now. She had to stop acting as if this were some great love affair and instead just enjoy showcasing a project on which she’d worked so hard.
Fired up by professional pride and a new determination, she spent the rest of the day finalising last-minute details with Cindy. With barely a break for lunch, they worked straight through until five—giving themselves just under an hour to get ready before meeting downstairs in the ballroom. Emma was wearing the dry-cleaned white dress she’d worn to Sofia’s party—and Cindy was resplendent in a sapphire-blue playsuit, which echoed her eyes.
For a moment they gazed around the completed room in silence until Cindy spoke at last in a dreamy voice.
‘Oh, Emma—it looks fantastic! Like … like something out of a fairy tale.’
Emma nodded, buoyed up by her young assistant’s enthusiasm. ‘It does, doesn’t it?’ she questioned. ‘I think any woman would want to get married here.’
Pale, buttery drapes framed the enormous windows and contemporary mirrors reflected back even more light. Tables were laid with settings of silver and crystal and fragrant, creamy candles. And dominating a far corner of the room stood a beautiful statue of Aphrodite, which added just the right quirky finish. Emma had found it by chance in a little antique shop on 60th St and she liked the fact that the Greek goddess of love should be represented in a room designed to celebrate weddings.
The irony of her choice didn’t escape her, either. A Greek goddess erected in silent tribute to her own Greek god who was so damning about the concept of love. What had he said? That one person always loves too much and the other not enough …
Forcing the memory from her mind, she looked around the room. ‘Right, I’m just going to tweak the flowers.’
‘And I’ll go and have a last-minute chat with the head of security,’ said Cindy, with a grin. ‘Tickets are like gold dust and I want to make sure that nobody gets in who isn’t supposed to.’
‘I can’t imagine that security would ever be a problem at the Pembroke.’
‘No. But you never know.’
Once Cindy had gone, Emma busied herself with last-minute touches, wondering if Leda would be the first bride to marry here—and wondering whether Zak would feel any pang of regret for the woman he’d come pretty close to marrying himself. Just before seven, the first guests started to arrive and, soon after that, her Greek lover appeared.
As soon as he walked into the ballroom, people began to cluster around him, like ants swarming on a spoonful of fallen jam—but he quickly detached himself and walked over to where she was standing, drinking a glass of mineral water.
For a moment he didn’t speak, just gazed at her from between narrowed eyes, as if he was preserving her image for posterity. ‘You must be very pleased,’ he said softly.
