The Flaw in His Red-Hot Revenge

by Abby Green

  He shook his head. ‘That’s in the past. Gone.’

  The car pulled to a stop outside Zach’s house. He said, ‘Look, Ashling, this was—’

  She put up a hand, her chest tight. ‘You really don’t have to say anything, Zach. We both know what this is. Was. It’s cool.’

  If he mentioned short and hot she might hit him.

  His jaw was tight. Eventually he said, ‘After this morning I was afraid that—’

  Ashling shook her head so forcibly she was afraid it might fall off. ‘No. It was lovely—and thank you again. Now I should really get going. I have tons to catch up on.’

  ‘Of course. Goodbye, Ashling.’

  ‘Bye, Zach.’

  He got out of the car, took a bag out of the boot, and Ashling watched him go up the steps to the house. The door opened before he reached it and she caught a glimpse of the taciturn Peters.

  Vengeance meted out. Order restored. Interlude over.

  Ashling was glad the driver left the privacy partition up for the duration of the journey back to her and Cassie’s apartment. Because she cried like a baby the whole way.

  * * *

  Zach lasted until lunchtime.

  He’d thought he was doing the right thing. Seeing Ashling’s tears that morning had been the biggest wake-up call of his life. They’d reminded him of the emotion he’d seen in her eyes the previous evening, when he’d all but spilled every gut he had at her feet. And her too. When she’d told him about her father he’d felt violent.

  And had that made him run? Or send her packing? No, they’d eaten, drunk wine, made love. And then he’d woken her up this morning and taken her out on a glider—one of the most transcendental experiences of his life, shared with no one else before.

  What the hell are you doing?

  The words had resounded in his head like a klaxon when he’d seen her tears. In that split second he’d realised how far off-track the weekend had veered. At what point had short and hot turned into deep and meaningful?

  An image formed in Zach’s head. Heat pulsed into his blood.

  It had happened right about when he’d found Ashling floating in his lake like a sexy water nymph.

  He still wanted her.

  It had taken all his restraint not to kiss her in the car. But she’d been looking at him with those huge eyes. Full of an emotion that convinced him he was doing the right thing.

  But maybe he’d underestimated her. After all, she’d had a couple of relationships. She was savvy. Smart. Maybe he was doing them both a disservice by ending things so abruptly...

  He assured himself that he was moving on to the next chapter of his life, and that he’d never been clearer about where he wanted to go—thanks in a large part to the person who had almost helped derail it four years ago.

  But maybe the next chapter didn’t have to start today.

  * * *

  Ashling had put on a pair of old cut-off shorts and a crocheted wrap-over top. She was attempting to take her mind off things by doing a bit of gardening in the small patch she and Cassie had outside their apartment at the back. But it wasn’t doing much to ease the ache in her chest.

  When the door buzzer rang she welcomed the distraction, dusting off her hands. Expecting to see her neighbour, or a delivery person, Ashling opened the door and blinked stupidly up at Zachary Temple.

  He was halfway through saying something but Ashling was already in his arms, legs around his waist, mouth clamped to his. He walked them back into her apartment and kicked the door shut behind him.

  * * *

  Much later, in Ashling’s bed, with the sounds of children playing on the street outside and sirens in the distance, they had a conversation.

  Zach. ‘This doesn’t mean...’

  Ashling. ‘I know.’

  ‘What we said at the start—’

  ‘What you said.’

  ‘That this would be—’

  ‘Don’t say it now. It doesn’t need to be said again. I know what this is.’

  ‘You do?’

  ‘Yes. And that’s okay.’ Liar.

  ‘Okay. Good.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘We’re clear...?’

  Ashling turned to Zach in the bed and twined her bare legs with his, relishing the feel of his body responding to hers. ‘Clear as crystal.’

  She kissed him then, to stop him saying anything else. She didn’t need to be reminded of her weakness. Or that this was just a stay of execution.

  * * *

  Thirty-six hours later Ashling was on the other side of London in Zach’s townhouse. She adjusted the pearl-encrusted collar that tied at the back of her neck. The dress was sleeveless, held up by the collar, with a line of pearls running from the collar on either side of the edge of the bodice of the dress, under her arms and around to the back. The rest of the dress was black, with a nipped-in waist, and it fell to the floor in a single elegant fall of material.

  It was classic and...conservative. Her overriding instinct was to add a bit of colour. But she told herself it wasn’t appropriate.

  She’d come to Zach’s house yesterday, after he’d spent the day and the night at her apartment. She hadn’t expected anything social. But he’d asked her to come to a charity event this evening.

  She’d said, ‘Is that a good idea? People might start to ask questions...wonder who I am...’

  Cassie, for starters. Her friend was due to arrive home any day now, and Ashling had no idea how she was going to begin explaining what had happened.

  But Zach had brushed it off. ‘It’s a private event...tight security. It shouldn’t attract too much attention.’

  Then she’d said, ‘I don’t have anything to wear to an event.’

  He’d said, ‘Leave it with me. I’ll arrange it.’

  And this was the dress that had been delivered. Obviously to his specifications.

  She’d put her hair up, to try and look as sophisticated as the dress.

  Zach appeared in the doorway, wearing a tuxedo and carrying a box. He said, ‘You look...stunning.’

  A part of Ashling was a little disappointed with Zach’s obvious approval. Especially after what he’d intuited the other night at his country house—that she wore colour to rebel against her father’s lack of interest. It might have started like that, but now it was her. Who she was. Her essence.

  Right now, though, she didn’t really feel like her. Not like she had in that glorious dress at the weekend. She felt she was betraying herself a little.

  But then she told herself she was being ridiculous. It was one night. One dress. These moments with Zach were finite.

  ‘Thank you.’ She affected a little curtsey.

  Zach came into the room and opened the box, saying, ‘I thought you might need something to go with the dress.’

  Ashling looked inside and gasped. There was a pearl bracelet, with what looked like a diamond catch, and pearl drop earrings.

  She looked at Zach. ‘Are these real?’

  ‘Of course.’

  Ashling shook her head. ‘Zach, I can’t. They’re too valuable. What if I lose an earring or the bracelet falls—?’

  ‘They’re yours. A gift.’

  Her mouth dropped. A veritable tsunami of conflicting emotions swirled in her belly. When she could move her jaw again she said, ‘I can’t...really. It’s too much.’

  But Zach was already taking out the bracelet and fastening it around her wrist, saying, ‘Just try them on, hmm...?’

  He handed her the earrings. She wasn’t even sure why she was so reluctant, or why there was a feeling of gathering dread in her belly, so she put them on. They swung from her ears, their lustrous sheen catching the light.

  Zach put his hands on her shoulders. He towered above her. They matched. Her black dress and pearls with his cl
assic black and white tuxedo. And yet something jarred inside Ashling.

  But then he was taking her hand and leading her out, downstairs to his car. They passed Peters on the way, and if Ashling wasn’t mistaken the man gave her a sliver of a smile.

  Now she was even more freaked out.

  * * *

  It took Zach a minute to realise why he couldn’t find Ashling in the crowd. Because she looked like everyone else in their tones of black, grey, white and not many variations on those themes.

  He pushed aside the niggle of his conscience. He’d deliberately instructed the boutique to deliver a dress that he knew Ashling wouldn’t choose for herself. Obeying some very nebulous desire to see her in another environment. His environment. Because he needed to know if—

  ‘Sorry. I got lost coming back from the ladies.’

  Zach looked at Ashling. His eye was drawn to the splash of colour just above one ear. Delicate pink flowers tucked artfully into her hair.

  ‘What’s that?’

  She touched the flowers. ‘Is it too much? I spotted the hotel florists changing the flower display. They were going to end up in a bin, so I took a few.’

  Zach shook his head, biting back a smile. ‘No, it’s not too much. It’s pretty.’

  He took her hand, feeling something inside him ease—just before he looked across the room and saw something, someone, and any sense of ease dissolved in a rush of hot emotion.

  ‘What is it?’ Ashling had clearly noticed the change in him immediately.

  ‘My father.’ He bit the words out.

  He barely heard Ashling’s intake of breath or felt her hand tightening around his.

  ‘Where is he?’

  ‘Talking to his wife. The mother of my half-brothers and sisters.’

  * * *

  Ashling followed Zach’s eyeline to a tall man in the crowd. Distinguished. The woman beside him was also tall and elegant. The perfect couple. Ashling felt sick for Zach. She could imagine only too well how he must be feeling. Betrayed and rejected all over again.

  A surge of protectiveness rose up inside her—and a need to right the wrong she’d done four years before. Zach’s father had used her as an unwitting tool to hurt his own son.

  Before she could think it through, Ashling had pulled her hand free of Zach’s and was marching through the crowd towards his father, borne aloft on a wave of righteous anger.

  She wasn’t even aware of the sense of déjà-vu: walking through a crowd towards a tall man...walking around to stand in front of him.

  This time she wasn’t nervous, though. She was livid.

  Zach’s father looked her up and down. His eyes were blue. Not dark. Cold.

  ‘Yes? Can I help you?’

  ‘Don’t you recognise me?’

  The man immediately looked discomfited and guilty, more than hinting at a lifetime of behaviour similar to what he’d subjected Zach’s mother to.

  Ashling was disgusted. ‘No, I don’t mean like that. I mean from four years ago, when you hired an actor to publicly humiliate your own son.’

  The man’s eyes narrowed and comprehension dawned. ‘You had red hair. A short dress.’

  ‘So you do remember?’

  He hissed at her. ‘Get out of here now or I’ll call the police.’

  The women beside him spoke sharply. ‘Henry, what is going on?’

  The man looked at Ashling, up and down. ‘Nothing, darling. This tart is just some opportunist. She shouldn’t be here.’

  Those words made a red mist descend over Ashling’s vision. Her voice rang out. ‘Zachary Temple is more of a son than you could ever deserve. You’re not fit to clean his shoes. You’re a disgrace.’

  Before Ashling knew what was happening Zach’s father had lifted his hand, as if to strike her, but someone stood in front of her before he could.

  Zach. His voice was ice-cold. ‘Don’t even think about it. I’ll have you flat on your back with a broken jaw and the police will be here so quickly your head will be spinning for a year.’

  Ashling took a step to the side, to see Zach’s father’s hand still raised. The look in his eyes was one of pure and utter hatred. His face was mottled. There was a deadly silence. And then a flash of light.

  Zach turned, took Ashling’s hand, and then everything was a blur until they were outside the venue and Zach was bundling her into the back of his car. Ashling realised she was trembling all over from the overload of adrenalin and emotion. She could still feel herself flinching in anticipation of a physical blow.

  Zach was like a statue next to her. The journey back to his house was made in tense silence. As the shock wore off, though, dread settled in Ashling’s belly. She’d overstepped the mark—spectacularly. He’d never forgive her for this.

  When they got back to the house Zach went straight into the reception room. Ashling followed him. He poured himself a drink and threw it back.

  He turned around. ‘What the hell were you thinking, Ashling?’

  She swallowed. ‘I’m sorry. I just... I saw him and I got so angry when I thought of everything...’

  Zach started to pace. ‘He could have hurt you. He nearly did!’

  Ashling almost flinched again at the memory. ‘You stopped him.’

  Zach kept pacing. ‘Four years ago was bad. It was embarrassing and it cost me. But I managed to overcome the talk and the reputational damage. I worked hard to restore confidence and faith. But now... I have so much more to lose.’ He stopped, looked at Ashling. ‘The one thing I had going for me was the fact that no one knew who my father was. There were rumours, but that was all. At first I hated it that he didn’t acknowledge me. Then I didn’t want to be associated with him. But now that’s all gone. It’ll be all over the papers that I’m Henry Field’s son. There’ll be constant speculation as to whether or not he influenced my success in any way. My reputation will come under scrutiny all over again.’ Zach gestured to Ashling. ‘You might look the part this evening, but you’ve just proved that you really don’t belong in this world.’

  If he’d slapped her across the face it wouldn’t have had the same impact. He might as well have taken out a knife and sliced her heart wide open.

  Ashling couldn’t breathe for a long moment, so sharp was the pain. Then she said shakily, ‘I knew it. You got this dress on purpose, to try and see if I could fit in. Was it some kind of an audition to see if I was suitable for a wider public audience?’

  ‘Well, if it was, you failed.’

  Ashling shook her head. ‘I didn’t ask for this, Zach. I thought we were done.’

  He closed the distance between them so fast, she took a step back.

  ‘Don’t make me prove you a liar, Ashling. When I turned up at your door you were with me all the way.’

  She really didn’t need to be reminded of the relief she’d felt right now. ‘I meant I didn’t ask to be a part of your world. I know it would never work.’

  Zach made a rude sound. ‘The innocent ingénue is back, I see.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘Elena Stephanides has been in touch, looking for your contact details. Apparently you were discussing her investing in a business, the setting up of a yoga studio?’

  Ashling’s mind was blank for a moment—and then she remembered. It had been a very innocent conversation that she’d passed off as nonsense at the time. Flattered but embarrassed.

  She shook her head. ‘That was nothing. Is nothing. She was complimentary about my yoga teaching. I told her I had a pipedream to one day own my own studio... I had no idea she’d actually follow up on it.’

  Zach made another sound. ‘Kind of convenient to have a conversation about “nothing” with one of the wealthiest women in Europe, though.’

  The pain deepened and spread throughout Ashling’s body, turning her blood cold. �
��I knew you were cynical, Zach, but that is...beyond...’

  Zach tugged at his bow-tie, undid his top button. Even now, in the midst of all this, Ashling could still be aware of him. Those long fingers.

  ‘It’s not cynical. It’s how the world works.’

  ‘Your world. Not mine.’

  Zach took down his hand, leaving the bow-tie rakishly undone. ‘Oh, yes—because your world is so much more worthy. Because you get enjoyment out of earthy, basic pleasures. Because you’re not corrupted by ambition and success and wealth.’

  Before she could respond he went on.

  ‘And yet you took to the billionaire lifestyle without too much of a struggle.’ He put his hands out, ‘Now that we know where we both stand, maybe we can revisit that audition to be my mistress. After all, I don’t think we’re quite done, are we?’

  Ashling was so angry and hurt she was dizzy with it. ‘Whatever I felt for you is dead, Zach. I could never want someone so cruel, so cynical—’

  She was in his arms and his mouth was on hers before she had time to take another breath.

  Ashling managed to resist for about one second, while the anger raged, but then Zach’s mouth softened, his arm relaxed infinitesimally, and desire overtook the rage, blazing up in a storm of want and need and hurt and anger. Because even in the midst of her pain she understood his.

  Her arms climbed around his neck, her body straining against his, and then he pulled back. He put his hands on her arms, held her away from him. She could feel her hair unravelling. The flowers lay at her feet, wilted. Mocking.

  She pulled back too, with a jerky move. ‘I think we are done, actually. Goodbye, Zach.’

  Ashling turned and walked from the room on very wobbly legs. She went upstairs, changed into her own clothes. Left the dress and the jewellery behind.

  This time when she went downstairs there was no disapproving Peters, no sign of Zach.

  She opened the door and walked to the nearest tube station and went home.