by Maya Blake
That single memory cleared his mind of any extraneous feelings. ‘Open the box and put on the ring,’ he said tersely.
His tone must have conveyed his capricious emotional state. She cracked open the small case and slid on the ring without complaint.
He caught her hand in his and raised it, much as he had on Friday night. But this time, the acute need to rip off the evidence of another man’s ownership was replaced by a well of satisfaction. ‘You’re mine, Eva. Until I decide another fate for you, you’ll remain mine. Be sure not to forget that.’
Turning on his heel, he walked away.
* * *
Eva woke on Monday morning with a heavy heart and a stone in her gut that announced that her life was about to change for ever. It had started to change the moment she’d heard Zaccheo’s recorded conversation with her father, but she’d been too shocked afterwards to decipher what her father’s guilt meant for her.
Tired and wrung out, she’d stumbled to bed and fallen into a dreamless sleep, then woken and stumbled her way back to work.
Reality had arrived when she’d exited Siren after her shift to find Zaccheo’s driver waiting to bring her back to the penthouse. She’d felt it when Zaccheo had told her to be ready to attend his offices in the morning. She’d felt it when she’d walked into her suite and found every item of clothing she’d tried on Saturday neatly stacked in the floor-to-ceiling shelves in her dressing room.
She felt it now when she lifted her hand to adjust her collar and caught the flash of the diamond ring on her finger. The flawless gem she’d chosen so carelessly had been mounted on a bezel setting, with further diamonds in decreasing sizes set in a platinum ring that fitted her perfectly.
You’re mine, Eva. Until I decide another fate for you, you’ll remain mine.
She was marrying Zaccheo in less than a week. He’d brought forward the initial two-week deadline by a whole week. She would marry him or her father would be reported to the authorities. He’d delivered that little bombshell last night after dinner. No amount of tossing and turning had altered that reality.
When she’d agreed to marry Harry, she’d known it would be purely a business deal, with zero risk to her emotions.
The idea of attaching herself to Zaccheo, knowing the depth of his contempt for her and his hunger for revenge, was bad enough. That undeniably dangerous chemistry that hovered on the point of exploding in her face when she so much as looked at him...that terrified her on an unspeakable level. And not because she was afraid he’d use that against her.
What she’d spent the early hours agonising over was her own helplessness against that inescapable pull.
The only way round it was to keep reminding herself why Zaccheo was doing this. Ultimate retribution and humiliation was his goal. He didn’t want anything more from her.
An hour later, she sat across from her father and sister and watched in growing horror as Zaccheo’s lawyers listed her father’s sins.
Oscar Pennington sat hunched over, his pallor grey and his forehead covered in light sweat. Despite having heard Zaccheo’s recording last night, she couldn’t believe her father would sink so low.
‘How could you do this?’ she finally blurted when it got too much to bear. ‘And how the hell did you think you’d get away with it?’
Her father glared at her. ‘This isn’t the time for histrionics, Eva.’
‘And you, Sophie? Did you know about this?’ Eva asked her sister.
Sophie glanced at the lawyers before she replied, ‘Let’s not lose focus on why we’re here.’
Anger shot through Eva. ‘You mean let’s pretend that this isn’t really happening? That we’re not here because Father bribed the builders to take shortcuts and blamed someone else for it? And you accuse me of not living in the real world?’
Sophie’s lips pursed, but not before a guilty flush rushed into her face. ‘Can we not do this now, please?’ Her agitated gaze darted to where Zaccheo sat in lethal silence.
Eva stared at her sister, a mixture of anger and sadness seething within her. She was beginning to think they would never get past whatever was broken between them. And maybe she needed to be more like Zaccheo, and divorce herself from her feelings.
Eva glanced at him and the oxygen leached from her lungs.
God!
On Friday night, his all-black attire had lent him an air of suave but icy deadliness reminiscent of a lead in a mafia movie. Since then his casual attires, although equally formidable in announcing his breathtaking physique, had lulled her into a lesser sense of danger.
This morning, in a dark grey pinstripe suit, teamed with a navy shirt, and precisely knotted silver and blue tie, and his hair and beard newly trimmed, Zaccheo was a magnificent vision to behold.
The bespoke clothes flowed over his sleekly honed muscles and olive skin, each movement drawing attention to his powerfully arresting figure.
It was why more than one female employee had stared in blatant interest as they’d walked into GWI’s headquarters in the City this morning. It was why she’d avoided looking at him since they’d sat down.
But she’d made the mistake of looking now. And as he started to turn his head she knew she wouldn’t be able to look away.
His gaze locked on her and she read the ruthless, possessive statement of ownership in his eyes even before he opened his mouth to speak. ‘Eva has already given me what I want—her word that she’s willing to do whatever it takes to make reparations.’ His gaze dropped to the ring on her finger before he faced her father. ‘Now it’s your turn.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
‘HERE’S A LIST of businesses who withdrew their contracts because of my incarceration.’ Zaccheo nodded to one of his lawyers, who passed a sheet across the desk to her father.
Eva caught a glimpse of the names on the list and flinched. While the list was only half a page, she noticed more than one global conglomerate on there.
‘You’ll contact the CEO of each of those companies and tell them your side of the story.’
Fear flashed across her father’s face. ‘What’s to stop them from spilling the beans?’
Zaccheo gave that chilling half-smile. ‘I have a team of lawyers who’ll ensure their silence if they ever want to do business with me again.’
‘You’re sure they’ll still want your business?’ Her father’s voice held a newly subdued note.
‘I have it on good authority their withdrawal was merely a stance. Some to gain better leverage on certain transactions and others for appearances’ sake. Once they know the truth, they’ll be back on board. But even if they don’t come back to GWI, the purpose of your phone call would’ve been achieved.’
‘Is this really necessary? Your company has thrived, probably beyond your wildest dreams, even while you were locked up. And this morning’s stock-market reports show your stock at an all-time high.’ Eva could hear the panic in her father’s voice. ‘Do I really need to genuflect in front of these people to make you happy?’ he added bitterly.
‘Yes. You do.’
Her father’s face reddened. ‘Look here. Judging by that rock I see on Eva’s finger, you’re about to marry my daughter. We’re about to be family. Is this really how you wish to start our familial relationship?’
Bitterness pushed aside her compassion when she realised her father was once again using her as leverage for his own ends.
‘You don’t think this is the least you can do, Father?’ she asked.
‘You’re taking his side?’ her father demanded.
Eva sighed. ‘I’m taking the side of doing the right thing. Surely you can see that?’
Her father huffed, and Zaccheo’s lips thinned into a formidable line. ‘I have no interest in building a relationship with you personally. You can drop dead for all I care. Right afte
r you carry out my instructions, of course.’
‘Young man, be reasonable,’ her father pleaded, realising that for once he’d come up against an immoveable object that neither his charm nor his blustering would shift.
Zaccheo stared back dispassionately. No one in the room could harbour the misguided idea that he would soften in any way.
‘I don’t think you have a choice in the matter, Father,’ Sophie muttered into the tense silence.
Eva glanced at her sister, searching for that warmth they’d once shared. But Sophie kept her face firmly turned away.
Eva jumped as her father pushed back his chair. ‘Fine, you win.’
Zaccheo brushed off imaginary lint from his sleeve. ‘Excellent. And please be sure to give a convincing performance. My people will contact each CEO on that list by Friday. Make sure you get it done by then.’
Her father’s barrel chest rose and fell as he tried to control his temper. ‘It’ll be done. Sophie, we’re leaving.’
Eva started to rise, too, only to find a hand clamped on her hip. The electricity that shot through her body at the bold contact had her swaying on her feet.
‘What are you doing?’ she demanded.
Zaccheo ignored her, but his thumb moved lazily over her hip bone as he addressed her father. ‘You and Sophie may leave. I still have things to discuss with my fiancée. My secretary will contact you with details of the wedding in the next day or two.’
Her father looked from her face to Zaccheo’s. Then he stormed out of the door.
Eva turned to Zaccheo. ‘What more could we possibly have to discuss? You’ve made everything crystal clear.’
‘Not quite everything. Sit down.’ He waited until she complied before he removed his hand.
Eva wasn’t sure whether it was relief that burst through her chest or outrage. Relief, most definitely, she decided. Lacing her fingers, she waited as he dismissed all except one lawyer.
At Zaccheo’s nod, the man produced a thick binder and placed it in front of Zaccheo, after which he also left.
She could feel Zaccheo’s powerful gaze on her, but she’d already unsettled herself by looking at him once. And she was reeling from everything that had taken place here in the last hour.
When the minutes continued to tick by in silence, she raised her head. ‘You want my father to help rebuild the damage he caused to your reputation, but what about your criminal record? I would’ve thought that would be more important to you.’
‘You may marry a man with a criminal record come Saturday, but I won’t remain that way for long. My lawyers are working on it.’
Her heart lurched at the reminder that in a few short days she would be his wife, but she forced herself to ask the question on her mind. ‘How can they do that without implicating my father? Isn’t withholding evidence a crime?’
‘Nothing will be withheld. How the authorities choose to apply the rule of law is up to them.’
Recalling the state of her father’s health, she tightened her fists in anxiety. ‘So you’re saying Father can still go to prison? Despite letting him believe he won’t?’
The kick in his stare struck deep in her soul. ‘I’m the one who was wronged. I have some leeway in speaking on his behalf, should I choose to.’
The implied threat didn’t escape her notice. They would either toe his line or suffer the consequences.
She swallowed. ‘What did you want to discuss with me?’
He placed a single sheet of paper in front of her.
‘These are the engagements we’ll be attending this week. Make sure you put them in your diary.’
She pursed her lips, denying that the deep pang in her chest was hurt. ‘At least you’re laying your cards on the table this time round.’
‘What cards would those be?’
She shrugged. ‘The ones that state your desire to conquer the upper class, of course. Wasn’t that your aim all along? To walk in the hallowed halls of the Old Boys’ Club and show them all your contempt for them?’
His eyes narrowed, but she caught a shadow in the grey depths. ‘How well you think you know me.’
She cautioned herself against probing the sleeping lion, but found herself asking anyway, ‘Why, Zaccheo? Why is it so important that you bring us all down a peg or two?’
He shifted in his seat. If she hadn’t known that he didn’t possess an ounce of humility, she’d have thought he was uneasy. ‘I don’t detest the whole echelon. Just those who think they have a right to lord it over others simply because of their pedigree. And, of course, those who think they can get around the laws that ordinary people have to live by.’
‘What about me? Surely you can’t hate me simply because our relationship didn’t work out?’
‘Was that what we had—a relationship?’ he sneered. ‘I thought it was a means for you to facilitate your father’s plans.’
‘What? You think I had something to do with my father scapegoating you?’
‘Perhaps you weren’t privy to his whole plan like your sister was. But the timing of it all was a little too convenient, don’t you think? You walked away three days before I was charged, with a flimsy excuse after an even flimsier row. What was it? Oh, yes, you didn’t want to marry a man like me?’
She surged to her feet, her insides going cold. ‘You think I staged the whole thing? Need I remind you that you were the one who initiated our first meeting? That you were the one to ask me out?’
‘An event carefully orchestrated by your father, of course. Do you know why I was at Siren that night?’
‘Will you believe me if I said no?’
‘I was supposed to meet your father and two of his investors there. Except none of them showed.’
She frowned. ‘That’s not possible. My father hates that I sing. He hates it even more that I work in a nightclub. I don’t think he even knows where Siren is.’
‘And yet he suggested it. Highly recommended it, in fact.’
The idea that her father had engineered their first meeting coated her mouth with bitterness. He’d used her strong loyalty to their family to manipulate her long before she’d taken a stand and moved out of Pennington Manor. But this further evidence showed a meticulousness that made her blood run cold.
‘Were you even a virgin back then?’ Zaccheo sliced at her.
The question brought her back to earth. ‘Excuse me?’
‘Or was it a ploy to sweeten the deal?’
‘I didn’t know you existed until you parked yourself in front of the stage that night!’
‘Maybe not. But you must’ve known who I was soon after. Isn’t that what women do these days? A quick internet search while they’re putting on their make-up to go on the first date?’
Eva couldn’t stop her guilty flush because it was exactly what she’d done. But not with the reprehensible intentions he’d implied. Zaccheo’s all-consuming interest in her had seemed too good to be true. She’d wanted to know more about the compelling man who’d zeroed in on her with such unnerving interest.
What she’d found was a long list of conquests ranging from supermodels to famous sports stars. She’d been so intimidated, she’d carefully kept her inexperience under wraps. It was that desperately embarrassing need to prove her sophistication that had led to her boldly accepting his dare to perform oral sex on him on his thirtieth birthday. She’d been so anxious, she’d bungled it even before she’d unfastened his belt. In the face of his wry amusement, she’d blurted her inexperience.
The inexperience he was now denouncing as a ploy.
‘I don’t care what you think. All I care about is that I know what I’m letting myself in for now. I know exactly the type of man you are.’ One whose ruthless ambition was all he cared about.
He regarded her for several tense seconds. �
�Then this won’t surprise you too much.’ He slid a thick burgundy folder across to her. ‘It’s a prenuptial agreement. On the first page you’ll find a list of independent lawyers who can guide you through the legalese should you require it. The terms are non-negotiable. You have twenty-four hours to read and sign it.’
She glanced from him to the folder, her mouth dropping open in shock. ‘Why would I need a prenup? I’ve agreed to your demands. Isn’t this overkill?’
‘My lawyers go spare if I don’t get everything in writing. Besides, there are a few items in there we haven’t discussed yet.’
Something in his voice made her skin prickle. Her belly quaked as she turned the first page of the thick document. The first few clauses were about general schedules and routines, making herself available for his engagements within reason, how many homes he owned and her duty to oversee the running of them, and his expectation of her availability to travel with him on his business trips should he require it.
‘If you think I’m going to turn myself into a pet you can pick up and hop on a plane with whenever it suits you, you’re in for a shock.’
He merely quirked an eyebrow at her. She bristled but carried on reading.
She paused at the sixth clause. ‘We can’t be apart for more than five days in the first year of marriage?’
The half-smile twitched. ‘We don’t want tongues wagging too soon, do we?’
‘You mean after the first year I can lock myself in a nunnery for a year if I choose to?’
For the first time since Zaccheo had exploded back into her life, she glimpsed a genuine smile. It was gone before it registered fully, but the effect was no less earth-shattering. ‘No nunnery would accept you once you’ve spent a year in my bed.’
Her face flamed and the look in his eyes made her hurriedly turn the page.
The ninth made her almost swallow her tongue. ‘I don’t want your money! And I certainly don’t need that much money every month.’ The sum stated was more than she earned in a year.