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One picture had held the caption ‘Three Ring Circus’—with photos of her three engagement rings and a pointed question as to her motives.
It’d been a relief to leave Zaccheo’s penthouse, switch off her phone and immerse herself in work. Not least because blanking her mind stopped her from thinking about the last clause in the prenup, and the reawakened agony she’d kept buried since her doctor had delivered the harrowing news six years ago. News she’d only revealed twice, with devastating consequences.
She almost wished she could blurt it out to Zaccheo and let the revelation achieve what it had in the past—a swift about-face from keen interest to cold dismissal, with one recipient informing her, in the most callous terms, that he could never accept her as a full woman.
Pain flared wider, threatening the foundations she’d built to protect herself from that stark truth. Foundations Zaccheo threatened.
She clutched the mic and forced back the black chasm that swirled with desolation. Her accompanying pianist nodded and she cleared her throat, ready to sing the ballad that ironically exhorted her to be brave.
She was halfway through the song when he walked in. As usual, the sight of him sent a tidal wave of awareness through her body and she managed to stop herself from stumbling by the skin of her teeth. Heads turned and the buzz in the room grew louder.
Zaccheo’s eyes raked her from head to toe before settling on her face. A table miraculously emptied in front of the stage. Someone took his overcoat and Eva watched him release the single button to his dinner jacket before pulling out a chair and seating himself at the roped-off table before her.
The sense of déjà vu was so overwhelming, she wanted to abandon the song and flee from the stage. She finished, she smiled and accepted the applause, then made her way to where he pointedly held out a chair for her.
‘What are you doing here?’ she whispered fiercely.
He took his time to answer, choosing instead to pull her close and place a kiss on each cheek before drawing back to stare at her.
‘You couldn’t make dinner, so I brought dinner to you.’
‘You really shouldn’t have,’ she replied, fighting the urge to rub her cheeks where his lips had been. ‘Besides, I can’t. My break is only twenty minutes.’
‘Tonight your break is an hour, as it will be every night I choose to dine with you here instead of at our home. Now sit down and smile, mio piccolo uccello che canta, and pretend to our avid audience that you’re ecstatically happy to see your fiancé,’ he said with a tone edged in steel.
CHAPTER NINE
ZACCHEO WATCHED MYRIAD expressions chase across her face. Rebellion. Irritation. Sexual awareness. A touch of embarrassment when someone shouted their appreciation of her singing from across the room. One glance from Zaccheo silenced that inebriated guest.
But it was the shadows that lurked in her eyes that made his jaw clench. All day, through the heady challenge of getting back into the swing of business life, that look in her eyes when she’d seen his last clause in the prenuptial agreement had played on his mind. Not enough to disrupt his day, but enough for him to keep replaying the scene. Her reaction had been extreme and almost...distressed.
Yes, it bothered him that she saw making a family with him abhorrent, even though he’d known going in that, had she been given a choice, Eva would’ve chosen someone else, someone more worthy to father her children. Nevertheless, her reaction had struck hard in a place he’d thought was no longer capable of feeling hurt.
The feeling had festered, like a burr under his skin, eating away at him as the day had progressed. Until he’d abruptly ended a videoconference and walked out of his office.
He’d intended to return home and help himself to fine whisky in a toast to striking the first blow in ending Oscar Pennington’s existence. Instead he’d found himself swapping his business suit for a dinner jacket and striding back out of his penthouse.
The woman who’d occupied far too much of his thoughts today swayed to her seat and sat down. The pounding in his blood that had never quite subsided after that kiss in his boardroom, and increased the moment he’d entered the VIP room and heard her singing, accelerated when his gaze dropped to her scarlet-painted lips.
Before he’d met Eva Pennington, Zaccheo had never labelled himself a possessive guy. Although he enjoyed the thrill of the chase and inevitable capture, he’d been equally thrilled to see the back of the women he’d dated, especially when the clinginess had begun.
