like this. He’d had stubble that night of the ball—she could remember the slight burn on her skin after they’d kissed.
She nodded. ‘You…you recognise me?’
Zac’s mouth quirked. ‘I met you a week ago, Rose. My memory still functions pretty well. And you were memorable—even if you did run.’
Thankfully the haze cleared from her head. She pulled her arm free and stepped back into the room.
Zac leaned against the door and put his hands in his pockets. As nonchalantly as if he owned the place.
‘You said you’d stay.’ He sounded accusing.
Rose was defensive. ‘I didn’t…exactly. I said, okay. But I knew I had to leave…’
‘Why?’
Rose turned to avoid that incisive gaze. She felt as if she was being torn in two: torn between the part of her that was euphoric to see him again and the part of her that knew it was all a set-up.
She turned back to face him and gestured with a hand to her uniform and practical flat black shoes. ‘Because this is who I am.’ That, at least, was true. ‘I’m not in your league, Mr Valenti, and I think you’re only attracted to me because I’m a bit different.’
Zac straightened from the door, tension in his form. ‘You’re different, all right, and it’s because you outshine any of those other women out there.’
Rose looked at him, helpless against his sheer power to suck her in again. ‘Please, don’t say that. It’s not true.’
He prowled closer, and Rose backed away until she had to stop because there was a wall of books at her back. He crowded her, but she didn’t feel threatened. She felt as if she was unfurling from the inside out. Like a flower blooming in the sun.
‘I thought we’d moved on from Mr Valenti?’
He reached out and with deft fingers undid the bun on the top of her head. Her hair fell down around her shoulders. He sifted through it and Rose felt ridiculously like purring.
‘I prefer it like this…a little wild and untamed.’
Her heart thudded against her breastbone.
Zac’s blue eyes speared her to the spot then. ‘You’re a hard woman to find—do you know that?’
‘You looked for me?’ Rose hadn’t really believed it, and to hear it confirmed, by him, was intoxicating.
He nodded. ‘I couldn’t get you out of my head or forget how you tasted…so sweet.’
Rose struggled not to let her legs turn to jelly and collapse under her. ‘That’s just because I left…you’re not used to women walking away.’
Something flashed in those mesmerising eyes and his mouth became hard. ‘I don’t play games, Rose.’
It took her a second to register that he thought she was saying she’d left on purpose. She shook her head. ‘I didn’t leave just to be a tease. I left because I knew I had to…’
Just as you should leave now—before this goes too far. Again.
‘Why fight this, Rose? The attraction between us is…combustible.’
Zac cupped her jaw with his hand and tipped her chin up. He put his other hand on her hip and lowered that beautiful face to hers. It was combustible, all right, and Rose couldn’t make herself move out of the combustion zone.
His mouth settled on hers and it felt so right. So necessary. So exciting.
After a moment’s hesitation Rose lifted her arms to wrap them around his neck. She wanted to arch her body into his and trembled with the effort it took not to do that. She felt Zac’s hum of approval as he gathered her even closer. Her breasts were pressed against his chest, her nipples hardening at the contact.
A persistent knocking sound finally broke through the bubble encasing them. Zac pulled back, eyes hot, impatience stamped on his face. He called out, ‘Yes?’
‘Mr Valenti? Mr Wakefield is looking for you.’
Zac cursed quietly, but didn’t take his eyes off Rose. ‘Tell him I have to leave. Something came up. I’ll call him.’
The disembodied voice floated through the door. ‘Very well, sir.’
Zac looked at her for a long moment. ‘I have never wanted a woman the way I want you, Rose.’
Something about the rawness of his tone got to her, and she bit her lip to stop herself from blurting out something similar. Then he took her hand and started to lead her over to another door in the room.
She tried to stop him. ‘Wait—I’m working here. I have to go back outside.’
‘Not any more. You’re coming with me.’
Rose yanked her hand free, panic mixing with excitement at his autocratic tone. ‘Now, wait just a minute. You can’t make me lose my job.’
The fact that she had only been given the job for the day, thanks to whatever strings this man’s mother had pulled, was forgotten in the face of his sheer arrogance.
His jaw hardened. ‘You can go back out there and continue serving, with me hovering over your shoulder, or you can come with me now. And if the job is so damn important I can get you another job anywhere in this city by tomorrow morning.’
Rose just looked at him. Speechless.
He took advantage of it and came closer. ‘I’m not letting you out of my sight again. So we can do this the quick way, by leaving now, or the slow way by leaving later. Up to you.’
Rose thought of proving the point by returning to work, but with Zac hovering at her heels she’d drop many more trays before her shift was over, and she’d already drawn enough attention to herself for one day.
As if he knew she was wavering he said, ‘Stop overthinking it. This is simple. I want to get to know you.’
Rose had gone with him. Of course she had. Because she was weak and because she’d wanted to, as much as she feared the malevolence of Mrs Lyndon-Holt and what the future held for her father if she didn’t comply.
She hadn’t been sure what to expect once she’d agreed to leave with him, but Zac had asked his driver to stop in Central Park, and they’d walked through the park, hands linked. They’d talked about inconsequential things, like books, movies and their mutual love of the New York Yankees.
He’d bought them ice-cream from a vendor, and now they sat and looked across the Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis Reservoir as people jogged past.
Rose sneaked him a look, asked, ‘Shouldn’t you be working?’
He tipped his head up to the early-evening sun and closed his eyes, before opening them again and looking at her. He winked. ‘I’m playing hooky.’
Rose’s heart somersaulted in her chest. Never in a million years would she have imagined spending a couple of hours in Zac Valenti’s company like this—as if he was just some regular guy and not one of America’s most talked about billionaires. During the last week she’d seen the latest edition of Forbes magazine on the newsstands, with his picture on the front and the headline: The most powerful new billionaire in America?
Dusk was falling over Manhattan by the time they emerged on the south side of the park, and Rose could see Zac’s building in the distance.
‘I can see your garden from here.’ She pointed up to where the green foliage peeked out over the walls.
When Zac didn’t say anything she looked at him. His tie was undone, top button open. His jacket was hanging off a finger, draped over his shoulder casually. Hair ruffled by the breeze. Rose’s