know I do!’ Rose almost wailed it, willing herself not to respond and melt. ‘No one knows that more than me.’
He lifted a hand and cupped her jaw, and every sinew in Rose’s body pulled taut against her inevitable reaction.
‘For the past couple of weeks you’ve been keeping me at a distance and I won’t have it—not when you told me you loved me. Why are you acting as if you didn’t?’
Rose’s breath stopped dead. She wanted to dissolve and disappear. This was excruciating. She’d thought Zac was ruthless before, but this…this was sheer cruelty.
Angry at how he was forcing her complete humiliation, she said, ‘Because I’m not a masochist. That’s why I can’t do this…’
He said now, ‘When I said you owe me, I meant that you owe me nothing but your trust. Do you know why I asked you here like this? In this dress?’
Rose tried not to seize on what he’d said about her only owing him her trust. It was too dangerous.
‘Because you want me to start paying you back… Because it turns you on… Because I embarrassed you when I turned up at the function… I don’t know, Zac…’
‘You’re right about one thing: it does turn me on.’
Rose felt her nerves sizzling.
‘But the real reason is because I want to start again. I want us to recreate that night—except this time without any malevolent manipulation dictating events. We’re just two people who’ve never met before. No agenda.’
Hardly daring to breathe or to hope, Rose whispered, ‘Why? If all you want is an affair—’
‘Your words,’ he cut in. ‘Not mine.’ He shook his head. ‘You still don’t get it, do you? I haven’t brought you here just to sleep with you, or to continue some temporary affair. You’re here because you’ve brought me to my knees. Because everything that I ever believed was important means nothing unless you’re with me.’
He wasn’t finished.
‘I don’t just want one night…or a few weeks or months. I want every night and day. I want you and me and our baby—together. And I want that forever.’
Rose shook her head incredulously. Her heart was pounding wildly. ‘You didn’t believe me when I told you how I felt… How do I know you believe me now?’
Zac was intense. ‘Because I trust in that girl I met who was so conflicted…who just wanted to do the right thing but was falling, just like I was. I trust in the purity of what we felt for each other, regardless of how we came to meet.’
It was too much. The hope was too much… She had too far to fall, and Zac had distrusted her for so long.
She broke away and turned her back to him, standing at the railing, holding on with both hands, knuckles white. Her throat ached…her eyes burned. And then she closed her eyes helplessly when she felt him behind her, wrapping his arms around her. His hands spread across her swollen belly with a possessiveness that made her blood sing.
He said over her head, ‘I love you, Rose, and I’m not letting you go. Not until you believe me.’
She was crying now in earnest, silently. But he could feel her sobs and he just held her until they stopped. The baby kicked under his hands.
She felt Zac go still behind her, and then he said with a choked voice, ‘See? It’s two against one.’
As he held her and she looked out over the view, she felt something wild and soaring take root inside her. The past and the present…and the future? Could it really start here again?
She gathered all her courage and turned in his arms and looked up. Her face had to be ravaged from her tears, but she didn’t care. She looked, deep into those blue eyes, and saw nothing but a blazing truth, as if he could burn it into her with sheer will. And a question. Could she give them another chance? Could she trust him?
Rose tugged free of Zac’s hold and stepped back. The stark pain she saw in his eyes when she broke free told her everything. And that she never wanted to see it again.
She took a deep, not entirely stable breath and held out her hand. ‘I’m Rose O’Malley—nice to meet you.’
Zac’s eyes flashed with something fierce. Relief. Joy. And love. He smiled and took her hand. ‘Zac Valenti—nice to meet you too.’ Then he cocked his head on one side. ‘With a name and colouring like that you must be Irish?’
Her heart felt as if it would explode in her chest, but she answered, ‘My parents emigrated here before I was born.’
Zac kept hold of her hand and slowly started pulling her towards him. ‘Why haven’t I seen you around before?’
Rose smiled tremulously and let herself be pulled. ‘I’m from Queens, and I’m afraid I’m just a humble maid.’
Zac pulled her right into his body and said, in a suspiciously choked-sounding voice, ‘As it happens, just humble maids are some of my favourite people.’ He threaded a hand through Rose’s hair, ‘Would you think it very forward of me if I kissed you, even though we’ve only just met?’
Rose’s voice wobbled even more as she said emotionally, ‘Only as long as you promise never to stop.’
‘That,’ Zac said reverently as he bent his head towards hers, ‘I can promise.’
And so that night, on a beautiful rooftop, in the middle of a magical garden high in the dark velvet sky, they started again.
A year later
ZAC VALENTI LOOKED around the massive glittering ballroom from his antisocial location, leaning against a pillar at the back of the room. Women passed him, dripping in jewels. He held in a scowl. And then something caught his peripheral vision and he looked to his right to see a bright flame of gold and green approaching him. Something swelled in his chest. His wife, his love, his world.
She emerged from the crowd, smiling at him. Her hair was swept up and she wore a shimmering strapless column of emerald-green that made her eyes pop out like two jewels. The only jewels she needed. Apart from her wedding rings.
When she reached his side Zac pulled her in close and it felt as it always did—as if a part of him was slotting back into place. He automatically breathed easier.
Rose looked up at him, eyes sparkling. ‘The gossip in the powder room tonight is about the sudden decision of a certain Jocelyn Lyndon-Holt to go on a long worldwide cruise.’
A familiar tension came into Zac’s muscles at the mention of that woman, but also a sense of release. He’d given a recent exclusive interview to a financial magazine, finally revealing the truth of his parentage and details of his hitherto less well-known Italian business concerns.
This cruise was his grandmother’s attempt to escape her fall from grace. The fact that she would be hounded by reporters at every stop along her route was inordinately satisfying. As was the legal agreement he’d made her sign before she’d left, which had been her only chance of ensuring the Lyndon-Holt name would live forever.
The Lyndon-Holt fortune was to become a philanthropic foundation, with one of its main recipients being a new charity—set up by him and Rose—which allocated funds for expensive medical operations to those who couldn’t afford it.
Rose’s father had recovered fully from his operation, and they’d taken an emotional trip back to Ireland with her mother’s ashes shortly after their daughter’s birth. Needless to say, Simona May Valenti—named for her paternal grandmother with the Italian spelling, and maternal grandmother—was the apple of her doting grandfather’s eye.
They’d