more closely. But instead of intimidating her, his actions had made her more determined, and less trusting of her so-called friends and allies.
The crushing loneliness of being married to Tristan was almost as bad as the emotional and psychological abuse he’d heaped on her. Maybe she shouldn’t have let Tristan convince her to quit college after her junior year. But she’d chosen to plan an elaborate wedding instead of finishing her degree. Floating down the aisle mere months before her twenty-first birthday, she’d actually believed the rest of her life would be like a fairy tale. And in some ways it had. Only she hadn’t been the lucky princess rescued by Prince Charming. Tristan had turned out to be more like the evil king who overtaxed the peasants and punished his subjects whenever the mood struck him.
She’d had no real friends, as was glaringly obvious in the wake of her separation from Tristan and subsequent divorce. No one had stepped up to support or to help her. She’d become a pariah in their tight social circles as Tristan had leaked false stories of her infidelity. No one had cared or believed her when she’d denied the allegations. It was one thing if a man strayed, but unseemly for a Southern woman.
Zoe came out of her reverie as she neared North Charleston. Susannah Dailey-Kirby’s campaign headquarters wasn’t far from the humane society where Zoe volunteered once a week, loving the time she got to spend with the animals. She’d grown up with dogs and cats, but Tristan had refused to allow her to have a pet.
After parking her car in the strip mall parking lot, Zoe strode along the sidewalk in the direction of the campaign’s storefront. For the last week or so she’d been sitting at the fast-food franchise across the street, contemplating the comings and goings of the staff and gathering courage to make her approach. In the weeks since she’d agreed to the revenge bargain, her enthusiasm for the project had waned.
But she’d made a promise and staying true to her commitments was an intrinsic element of her personality she couldn’t just set aside. She couldn’t help it, even when that trait had kept her in a bad marriage past all self-preservation. She’d meant it when she’d stood before family and friends and pledged to love, honor and cherish Tristan until death. That he’d done everything to destroy her good intentions hadn’t lessened her dedication to her vows. No doubt she’d still be married and miserable if he hadn’t decided to cast her aside.
Some days it was hard for her to distinguish whether the brunt of her anger over the failure of her marriage was directed at Tristan or herself. The rational part of her mind blamed Tristan’s unreasonable expectations, but her emotions turned the fault on her shortcomings.
Approaching the campaign headquarters, Zoe took a deep breath and held it while she pushed all doubts and worries out of her mind. She needed to focus on the task at hand or everything would be lost.
She’d decided to keep her backstory vague, because she didn’t want to talk about her ex-husband or the messy divorce he’d put her through. She was restarting her life as Zoe Alston and that opened up a whole range of possibilities. But first she had to see her commitment through.
Gathering a deep breath for courage, Zoe pushed through the front door, expecting the campaign office to be buzzing despite the election being a year off. But the space she entered was static and tense, as if she’d burst onto the scene of a tragedy.
A tiny bell had rung as she’d entered, but no one had noticed. The same chime sounded now as the door swung shut behind her. The campaign staff remained focused on a large TV. Feeling like an intruder, she advanced two steps into the room and then hesitated, unsure if she should continue or retreat. She’d obviously stumbled into something dire.
Four people stood in a semicircle surrounding a tall, slender man with thick, neatly combed gray hair. Phones rang at several desks but no one paid them any heed. In fact, the staffers’ only reaction was to dial the TV volume up.
Zoe shifted her focus from the campaign workers to the news footage that held their attention. It took her a couple of seconds to realize that someone new had entered the race and apparently this was very bad indeed. Realizing this was not a good time for her to approach the campaign team about volunteering, she started to pivot back the way she’d come and promptly collided with someone.
Like the campaign staff, she’d been so focused on the television coverage she hadn’t noticed the tinkling bell. Now, however, as her nose took a hit from the man’s cologne, her senses went on full alert. She was still reeling from the masculine scent of him as her right shoulder impacted with his rock-solid chest. It was like hitting a wall. Zoe bounced off him like a kitten off a mastiff.
She stumbled and might’ve fallen had he not caught her by the arm. His fingers were strong. His grip firm and steadying. It sent her heart sprinting as he guided her back the way she’d come. Her brain struggled to catch up with the to-and-fro movements of her body and decode the electric jolt she felt when he’d first touched her.
Her gaze collided with pale gray eyes of incredible intensity. For a moment she was utterly mesmerized. And then recognition flared. She gulped in panic.
Ryan Dailey.
Less than thirty seconds had passed since she’d initiated her part of the revenge plot and already she’d bumped into her target. And what an unexpected encounter it was shaping up to be.
The man’s sharp jawline, hawkish gaze, impossibly wide shoulders and sensual grin packed a solid wallop. Tingles raced across her nerve endings as heat built beneath her skin. It raced past her throat and exploded in her cheeks.
“You okay?” Ryan Dailey asked, his deep, rich voice rumbling against her eardrums and awakening queer flutters in her stomach.
“Yeah.” It was all she could manage.
“I’m Ryan Dailey,” he said, letting his focus flow over her white-blond spikes, dark plum lips and edgy bohemian outfit. “Susannah’s brother.”
While he checked her out, she took in his custom navy suit, white shirt and pale blue tie. Even with the four-inch heels on her ankle boots making her about five-nine, the man towered over her. Yet despite his imposing stature, she didn’t experience the bitter taste of anxiety her ex-husband had often awakened.
But that didn’t mean she felt calm.
“I’m Zoe...” Her mind froze before she could add her last name. For eight years she’d gone by Zoe Crosby. Those days were done.
“Nice to meet you, Zoe,” Ryan said, smoothly filling in the awkward gap. The way his gray eyes sharpened with interest, he seemed to mean it.
“Nice to meet you, too.” She couldn’t seem to peel her gaze free, but had enough presence of mind to lift her elbow and alert him that she no longer needed his continued support.
His steely fingers relaxed and slid away, but her skin prickled beneath her black leather jacket as she continued to react to the pressure of his touch.
“You’re new to Susannah’s campaign,” he remarked.
“What makes you say that?”
“If you’d been around before, I would’ve noticed you.”
His comment reawakened those anxious flutters in her stomach. The interest in his eyes was a little too keen, so Zoe settled deeper into playing her role of eager volunteer with nothing to hide.
“I’m really interested in volunteering for the campaign, but it seems like today might not be the best day to be here.” She indicated the cluster of staff and then glanced toward the front door. “They seem really busy. Maybe I’ll come back another time.”
“Don’t go.” His cajoling smile sent a lance of delight through her. “Come on. I’ll introduce you.”
Zoe found herself smiling in return. “How about I wait right here and if they have time, you wave me over.”
Offering her a brief nod, he moved past her.
Zoe stared after him, appalled and thrilled in turns.
That