As Rose packed her things a short while later, in the apartment beside Zac’s, she was still in a state of something like stoical numbness. The fact that she’d gone there in that dress, in public, and had all but prostrated herself at his feet had meant nothing. Changed nothing.
She’d told him how she felt and it had been like a scene in a sci-fi movie, with bullets bouncing off an invisible membrane, uselessly.
The fact that she’d so weakly taken the opportunity to let him give her an out, by agreeing with his accusation that it was just an act, was something she was not going to beat herself up over now. She had a lifetime for that.
Her child would be her main focus now. And her father.
She took a last look around the room. The black dress was draped across the bed and this time she wouldn’t be taking it with her, because it was the last reminder she wanted. Then she picked up her bag and walked out.
‘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