Suddenly, she felt sick. She pushed back her chair and got to her feet. “Excuse me...” She stumbled past Etán, almost running for the door.
Emmie called her name as the door closed behind her, but all she wanted to do was to hide. She needed time alone. To digest the facts. To think. She ran to the cellar, pushed the door open, and escaped inside. She kept on running until she reached the end of the huge hall, where she pushed herself against the cool wall behind one of the large, wooden barrels.
She stood, breathless, letting the pain and the shock penetrate. So soon. How could he have gotten engaged to Monica so soon after they broke up? Didn’t he feel a little bit of her hurt? It was a slap in her face. Was she really so easy to replace? She let her head fall back against the cold stone of the wall.
How could she judge Marcos if her body betrayed her every time she was around Etán? Had they ever really loved each other? Of course they did. She had to hold onto that. If not, there was nothing left. Etán had rejected her just as Marcos had.
Tears burned at the back of her eyes. She had to get a grip on herself. Only yesterday she was determined to fight for Marcos. Only yesterday she was so sure she could win him back and regain her sense of purpose. What else was she supposed to live for? However, that was before she knew he was engaged. Before she had seen Monica.
Footsteps came toward her, echoing through the acoustic hall with its arched ceiling, approaching along the path that separated the barrels. Holding her breath, she tried to make herself small against the wall. She closed her eyes as the steps neared, closing in on her hiding place. When they stopped, she knew he was next to her, but she kept her eyes shut, trying to shut out the world, too. Who was the ostrich now?
“Zenna,” his voice was soft, yet firm, “look at me.”
“Go away. I came here to be alone.”
She felt his hand on her arm. “I know what you saw—Marcos and Monica.”
She drew in her breath sharply. Her eyes shot open. “Don’t even say their names in the same breath. I’m still trying to deal with this. Don’t you understand?” Was she trying to deal with this or with the man facing her? Was she on the rebound or falling in love again?
He moved toward her, placing himself in front of her in the narrow space between the barrel and the wall. “I know it’s hard, but you’ve got to let it go.”
“Let it go?” She gave a bitter laugh. “I’m not letting anything go. I’m going to fight for him. He’s mine, and I’ll get him back.” She needed some sense of direction. Anything to take her mind off the man standing so close to her.
It looked as if her words were a bucket of cold water in Etán’s face. “You’re not serious. You don’t love that scumbag. Do you seriously want him back after what he did to you?”
Zenna looked up at him, tears stinging her eyes. “At least fighting for him prevents me from falling straight into another man’s arms on the rebound, doesn’t it?” she bit out sarcastically.
Etán grabbed her shoulders. “If it’s someone you need just because you can’t be on your own, right now, then I’ll happily offer my services, but I’ll be damned before I see you crawl in front of that bag of shit.”
She looked at him in disbelief. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. I can be on my own. I don’t need anyone. I love him,” she lied.
She watched his eyes widening, and then a calculated look crossed his face. His grip on her loosened. Just when she thought he was going to let her go, he did exactly the opposite. He pulled her against him, pressing her against his hard chest, bracing them between the wall and the wooden barrel. His hands went to her hair, pulling her head back, his head bending down and his mouth finding her lips.
She was going to argue. She really was. She had no idea how much she needed to be held and liked to be kissed like that. She didn’t know his kisses could be any better than the ones he had dealt so unwillingly, as he had claimed, until he started taking her mouth with a steady, strong command. Oh, God. A groan escaped her throat. He was good at this.
She felt her body melting into his. Her reluctant arms went around his neck, pulling him close to her. She kissed him with all the pent-up desire and pain she felt. His tongue teased her. He relaxed the hold of his mouth on hers for a second, to nibble at her lips, to feel the shape of them, to taste them, and the abandonment of his lips was almost too much for her to bear. She moaned, pulled him back to her, and demanded the kiss she craved.
His hands slipped from her hair, down her back, cradling and exploring the curves of her bottom. Without blinking, she lifted a thigh and wrapped it around him to get closer to him. Warning bells went off in her mind. She was losing control. No, she was already beyond it.
For a frightening instant, she realized it wasn’t Etán who had her back pressed to the stonewall, but she who had him pinned to the barrel at his back, and she couldn’t care less. Couldn’t care she came across as a sex-depraved, lonely, dumped woman. Maybe she needed him more than he needed her right now, but he wanted her. She could feel it.
When his hands moved from her behind to her hips, trailing up over her ribcage to cup the small mounds of her breasts, she caught her breath, and moaned again. Those whimpering sounds couldn’t possibly come from her. She was moaning in protest, protest because the kiss had become soft, less urgent, tender, and more gentle. His hands smoothed from her breasts over her shoulders, going around her back, and finally the retraction was complete when his lips placed one last, tender kiss on hers, before he lifted his head to look down at her.
Zenna quivered with need and with anger. How could he do this to her? Finally, she dared to raise her eyes. He was staring at her, waiting for her to look at him. She pushed with her hands on his chest, freeing herself from his embrace, leaning back against the wall. He didn’t fight her. His hand slipped to his sides.
“What the hell are you doing, Etán?” she demanded, confused. “This is going to stop, do you hear me?”
He pulled his finger over her jaw, tracing the line to the soft skin under her ear. “I’m sorry, Zenna, but I just proved to you, showed you, you don’t love Marcos.” His green eyes were smoldering, his pupils huge.
Her eyes widened in anger. “You kissed me ... like that ... to prove to me I don’t love Marcos?” she repeated in disbelief. “You son of a bitch.”
“You can call me whatever you want, Zenna, but I’ve just proven to you not only do you not love Marcos, but also that you need to get laid. Judging by your reaction, you want me. I don’t repulse you. You need someone, and, while you’re on the rebound, it might as well be me.”
Indignation boiled the blood in her veins. “So what made you change your tune so suddenly from not being a one-night stand type of guy, to offering to become my one-night stand? I thought you didn’t want to take me on the rebound.”
“I’m not a one-night stand type of guy, and I don’t want to take advantage of you on the rebound, but I can see you are going to do something foolish, like either crawl back to Marcos, or into someone’s bed, and given those two possibilities, I’d rather it be me than some idiot who doesn’t deserve you.”
Her eyes widened further. “Thank you so much for that offer of welfare, but I’d rather not settle for the charity in your pants. If I need to get laid, I’ll buy a vibrator. I’ll decide who I love or not, and who I will use to get over it or not.”
His look darkened. “Zenna, stop fighting the obvious. We may as well admit there is an attraction between us. I know you find it hard to believe, but I am looking out for you. I know how many scumbags there are out there. I don’t think I wanted to admit how big the attraction was until you almost got...” He couldn’t bring himself to say it.
“So you’re offering to warm my bed while I get over my ex and protect me that way?”
“More or less.”
“You are the most arrogant son of a bitch I’ve ever met in my entire life. Go to hell!”
She pushed past him, running to the door to
escape into the chill morning air. If she had stayed another second in that bastard’s presence she was going to slap him.
She paused outside to steady her breathing and then walked with determined steps back to the office building. She scribbled a note on a sticky paper, walked to his office and stuck it on his computer screen. Don’t bother to buy me roses this time.
Then she walked back to her desk and immersed herself in her work. She didn’t look up for hours and didn’t get up when it was time for lunch.
Etán didn’t speak to her. He watched her darkly from his desk, but she ignored him. She worked until dark, until everyone else in the office had gone home, except for her and Etán. Only then did she get up, packed the laptop and some files into a briefcase, pulled on her coat, and walked back home, where she locked herself in her room and worked until the very early morning hours.
Chapter Seventeen
The therapist Zenna had to see was there early again the next morning. He was a nice enough man, but she had nothing to say to him. What had happened, had happened. She wanted to move on. She didn’t want to dissect the events or run them through her mind again, because it was simply too appalling, too terrifying. She didn’t want to be reminded she could have ended up dead. She didn’t want to think about Santiago. She endured the sessions, because Ana, Pedro, and Etán insisted. She didn’t do it for him. She did it for Ana and Pedro who were kind to her.
Even as the therapist was talking to her, her mind wandered off to Etán. Maybe she should just sleep with him and get it out of her system. Yes, she wasn’t that kind of girl. She had her pride. Then why did she keep on clinging to him every time he pushed his lips against hers? It must have been the shock of seeing Marcos with Monica and realizing how stunning her rival really was. It was harder to deal with now there was a mental image in her mind.
“Zenna?” The doctor probed gently. “Did you get what I just said?”
Zenna’s head shot up from where she was studying her hands, non-seeing. “Yes, of course,” she said. “You were talking about suppressed trauma.”
“Good,” he cooed, before carrying on in his monotonous tone.
Zenna’s thoughts drifted back to her conversation with Etán. Now Marcos was engaged and fighting for him was no longer an option, she had better come up with some kind of plan. She desperately needed something to keep her mind off Etán and his impossibly irresistible body and arrogant mind. Especially since he had made it clear he wasn’t available on a long-term basis. She didn’t need her heart broken again.
After the hour session with the doctor who drove all the way out to Sol y Sombra, she was sure on Etán’s request, Zenna walked into the kitchen with heavy steps. She needed a cup of tea. She switched on the kettle, and leaned against the counter, waiting for the water to boil.
Luca walked in through the backdoor. “Hey, Sugar. How’s my favorite girl today?”
She shot him a grateful look, thankful for his bright tone.
One look at her, and he crossed the floor, his arms outstretched. “Need a hug?”
She made a face.
“Come here.” He folded his arms around her and gave her a big, warm, bear hug.
She sighed, nestling her face against his chest.
“What’s wrong, Sugar?”
She sighed again. “Everything. Starting with that obnoxious brother of yours.”
“I saw Gossip magazine.”
She groaned. “Everyone probably has by now.”
“Pretty much,” he said.
“Etán thinks I need a shag.”
Luca laughed. “Do you?”
Zenna squeezed him tight and then pulled away from the embrace. She rolled her eyes. “I don’t know what I need, any more.”
“Want to talk about it?”
She pushed her hands into the pockets of her jeans. “I’m thinking about fighting for Marcos, winning him back. That was, I thought about it until I saw Monica’s photo yesterday. They’re engaged.”
“Mmm,” Luca said, thoughtful, “she is pretty, but that’s not all that counts.”
“Argh, that’s a nice way of telling me I’m no match for her.”
He pinched her cheek. “That’s not what I said.”
“I really don’t know what to do, anymore. Everything is out in the open now. What I am. The murder case. The gossip.”
“Yeah.” He stroked a hand over her back. “That’s a lot to handle. I can imagine how frightening it must all be for you.” He paused. “How important is winning Marcos back to you? If you don’t mind me saying so, he’s a prime jerk. I can’t imagine what you see in him. I don’t want to see you hurt again.”
“I was only going to win him back to...” she hesitated. “Anyway,” she took a mug from the cupboard, and put a teabag inside, “he’s off limits now.”
“If you want my advice, I think you should really just let it go.”
She poured boiling water into the mug. “Now you sound just like your brother.”
“So maybe for once, he’s right.”
Teresa walked into the kitchen, carrying the tray with the coffee she had served to the therapist. She gave Zenna a girlish look, and then winked.
Zenna glanced at Luca, rolling her eyes again. Inwardly she cringed. Oh, God. What people were thinking...
Teresa winked again, as if once wasn’t sufficient. “Senora Ana called to remind you she will arrive with her friend, senora Margarita this afternoon.”
Zenna removed her teabag from the mug and threw it in the garbage bin. “Thank you, Teresa.” Zenna looked at Luca. “I guess that means I’m not going to get much work done today.”
“Not office work, no,” Luca said, with apprehension and compassion in his gaze. “As soon as you’re done with Mom and Margarita, I’ll take you for a nice, long walk.”
They both looked up when the gate intercom buzzed. The request was answered from somewhere else in the house. They padded to the kitchen window to watch the car parked in front of the main gates a guard was opening.
“Could Ana and Margarita be this early?” Zenna said.
She saw Luca stiffen as the black Jeep Grand Cherokee came into view. “No,” he said, his voice laced with disapproval. “They won’t be early.”
Something about his tone and manner made her pay more attention. Zenna cupped the warm tea as she watched the car pull up next to the front door. The driver didn’t make any move until the butler stepped from the veranda to open the door.
Zenna saw a long, slender leg, clad in an oxblood leather high-heeled boot, elegantly slip to the ground, before a tall, very thin woman got out of the driver seat. Her pitch black hair hung in waves over her back, reaching her waist, and a soft, chocolate brown dress fell over the exposed knee to cover the boots as she straightened. She looked around, breathing in the fresh air with a gesture of appreciation. She wore big, black sunglasses she pushed back over her hair.
Zenna’s mouth fell open. She was the image of perfection. She was just about to turn to Luca to ask him who it was, when she saw Etán emerging from the front door of the house. He walked down the steps in easy, long strides, stopping in front of the woman. He bent down to kiss her on the cheek.
The woman’s slender hand went around his neck, holding him to her. “Hola, Etán,” Zenna heard her say through the open kitchen window in a seductively, hoarse voice.
“Sanita, it’s been some time,” he said, taking her arm to lead her inside.
Zenna couldn’t stop gaping. Partly because she couldn’t stop looking at the beauty on Etán’s arm, but mostly because she felt inexplicable pangs of jealousy pricking at her like needles. They made an exceptionally attractive couple. Both were dark, tall, and displayed an air of confidence. Sanita’s hair was even blacker than Etán’s, and her skin was a smooth, dark shade of olive. With her heeled boots, she was almost as tall. She walked with gracious steps and swaying hips. Every ounce of her dripped of sex appeal and style.
“Wow.” She put the mug dow
n on the kitchen counter. “I had no idea Etán’s ex-wife is such a looker.”
Luca snorted impolitely. “She may be a looker, but that’s where it ends.”
She turned to him. “You don’t like her very much, do you?”
He looked straight into her eyes. “I like her about as much as I like your ex, both for the same reason.”
“You don’t like her for breaking your brother’s heart?”
“No, that’s way too shallow, Sugar. I don’t like her because of who she is.” His eyes darted back to the subject of their discussion. “She didn’t marry my brother for love. She married him for his money.”
Zenna bit her lip. “It’s not fair I’m being surrounded by perfect beauty this week. I really don’t want to be bombarded with model perfection right now. It’s the last thing I need. First Monica, now her.”
Luca crossed his arms. His tone was teasing. “What does Monica and Sanita have in common, that should bother you so? Monica I can understand. She stole your man. It’s not like she didn’t do you a favor, ridding you of that creep,” he added quickly. “As for Sanita, why would she bother you?”
Zenna shrugged. “I’m just not feeling very good about myself at this present moment, and I don’t want to be reminded I’m not perfectly thin, perfectly beautiful, or perfectly gracious, that’s all.”
He draped his arm around her. “You are perfect.”
She nudged him playfully in the ribs. “You’re too kind.”
Teresa came into the kitchen, starting to prepare a tray with their finest China teacups.
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