“But didn’t you go to design school?” he asked.
“Yeah, I did interior design at the LCA. Do you want some more?” She indicated to his empty plate.
“No I’m fine.” He cursed himself. Why hadn’t he just stayed quiet? Now he’d distracted her, just when he was getting somewhere. He reached for the bottle of wine that Zani had put on the low table and topped up her glass.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have prattled on. You have enough on your plate with the game and Sunberri and everything…” She sipped from her glass, all social efficiency.
“I like to listen. It’s nice for a while not to have to think about that mess.”
Corbin smiled at her then jumped as a phone started ringing. He shouldn’t have been surprised there was a phone, but somehow he was. It didn’t seem to suit the house. He’d felt alone, marooned with Zani in this mausoleum, sheltered from the weather. The rest of the world wasn’t welcome to intrude.
Zani darted to it, as if glad of the distraction.
“Zani!” snapped her father.
“Yes, Dad?” she said tiredly, not bothering to hide the impatience in her voice. Some things were becoming clear. Things that may seem obvious to anyone else, but which Zani had always taken as a matter of course. The fact that her father and brother treated her with breathtaking disrespect was one of them. She wasn’t sure how she’d do it, but she’d decided it was time for a change.
“I knew you’d be there. I wanted to tell you how disappointed Paul and I are.” He began his usual tirade. Angry, but more because she’d put up with this treatment for so long than because her father hurled anything new at her, Zani held the phone away from her ear. His disembodied voice sounded like an irate Mickey Mouse, and she glared at the receiver, trying to project her bitterness and resentment down the wire.
It didn’t seem to be very effective. On and on he went. She didn’t hear the words, but knew well enough what he’d be saying. Her mother had been gone for years, and now she was well and truly tired of the onerous task of being everything her father and brother required. Emotional doorstop, whipping-boy, scapegoat, person of no consequence. This would never have been what her mother meant when she asked Zani to look after her father and brother.
“Dad, it’s late and I’m tired. We can discuss it in the morning.”
“But, but…” he blustered, clearly unused to Zani doing anything but what he wanted.
“Goodbye,” she said firmly and, with a distinct sense of victory, put down the phone.
She turned back to Corbin, who sat on the couch pretending not to listen. His wavy hair had dried slicked back from his forehead. It accentuated his high cheekbones and the strong, solid look of his skull. He smiled a lazy teasing smile and their eyes met. He was compelling, thought Zani with nervous fascination. She easily read the message of smouldering desire in his look. It would be the simplest thing in the world to just drift to him, cross the five steps across the room, sink down on the sofa next to him and fall, warmly, safely into his arms.
She knew on some subconscious level that if she did it, if she took up his invitation, her life would never be the same. He would awaken the passion she’d always kept firmly controlled, deeply buried. Like Pandora’s Box. Once opened, once released, the passion could never be taken back.
Before, passion fell in the same category as love. She didn’t deserve passion, just as she didn’t deserve love. Passion was for romance novels, women’s magazines and teenage girls. Not for Zani.
But now… Zani wondered if she’d got it all wrong. Passion was a part of life, like love. It wasn’t doled out to the most deserving recipient. As she hesitated, a wash of desire made her tingle to her fingertips. She’d never felt anything so undeniable.
“Zani…” he said softly, invitingly, and she began to move toward him, almost against her own volition.
The phone rang. Again. Jerking her out of the trance.
Shaking off the desire, she answered it, with a profound sense of relief.
“Look, Dad…” she said in exasperation.
“No, it’s Sarah. Is he being a prat again? Well he’s a complete pig at the best of times. I knew you’d be there. Just wanted to check you’d got back okay. I knew you would, of course, but Roger was worried, and we wanted to check. So tell me all about that gorgeous man…” She hesitated for a split second, and Zani jumped in.
“My father is not a prat, he is merely over-protective. Yes, we got back okay, beautiful boat, and I can’t tell you anymore, because—” she dropped her voice to the merest of whispers, “—he’s here with me. Right now.”
The sound of the French national anthem wafted into the room, and Zani started, thinking of her own mobile lying in small pieces in the carpark of the Little Chef. Corbin stirred from the couch, dug his phone from his bag and began to talk into it.
Sarah, probably for the first time in her life, was lost for words. “What?” she stuttered. “You are at Everwood with a man? Rog, Roger,” she called into the background. “Zani’s at Everwood with that man.” Zani smiled at her friend’s incredulity. “Go for it,” she advised. “He seemed much less, well, wet, than Sebastian. Frankly I don’t know how you can bear him.”
“Sebastian? Oh, well, Dad likes him,” said Zani a little defensively, even though she had to agree.
“Only because he’s the sole heir to the Count of Ledenfeld,” retorted Sarah. Sometimes even best friends could be extremely annoying.
“Look, I have to go,” said Zani, not willing to get into a debate about her father’s choice of boyfriend for her at that moment. “Congratulations again on your news.”
“Okay, well, you make sure you keep me informed. Of everything.”
Zani hesitated for a moment with the phone in her hand, contemplating leaving it off the hook, but then hung it up properly. The conversation with Sarah had made her wonder exactly what either her father or Paul would have to say about Corbin’s presence at Everwood. But there was little chance that either of them would call again, and if they did there was even less chance they would find out Corbin was there.
She returned to her spot by the fire, as far as she could get from Corbin. The spellbinding moment of before had passed. She sat on the hearth, picking at her dinner, warming herself and watching him as he talked on his mobile. He’d age well; he had the bone structure.
She gathered from his conversation that he was talking to Sunberri’s public relations head, arranging a press conference for early Monday morning. No doubt to promote the company’s position with regards to their games release.
He hung up with an exclamation and glanced at Zani. His incredible blue eyes still held that flirtatious look from before. Zani attempted to quell it with a glare, but he looked unperturbed and merely smiled at her.
“Mon dieu, what a mess.” He gestured to the phone. “We will release a statement to the press on Monday, about the game. I have decided to hold back on the release date and see if we can change the game enough so that there will be less similarities with the Vivre game.” He relayed the information matter-of-factly, and Zani searched his demeanour for signs of guilt or remorse, or anything.
“But won’t that take weeks?” she asked just a little accusingly.
“Probably.” He seemed quite cheerful about it.
“But what will that do to the company share price? Won’t it drop like a stone?”
Corbin seemed a little bemused by the question.
“Well, as only a select few know that Sunberri’s game is the same as Vivre’s, and as long as the press and the shareholders don’t get wind of the problem, I expect the price will dip a little, but nothing dramatic. They’ll just think we’re running late. It happens from time to time.”
“Oh,” said Zani, and then “Oh,” as the full significance of what he said dawned on her. If he’d been planning a management buyout, he wouldn’t sit on the news that Vivre had stolen their game. He’d broadcast it to the world. But instead he planned t
o hush it up. Salvage the game if they could. It meant her father would be fine. He could gradually sell the stock he’d bought for nearly the same price; nobody would ever know about Paul’s stupid advice and his venture into insider trading.
It also meant Corbin was innocent of any secret leaking or game selling whatsoever.
“Are you all right?” asked Corbin.
Zani hastily rearranged her face into an expression of disinterest rather than gob-smacked shocked.
“I’m fine,” she said breezily. A massive burden had been lifted from her shoulders, and she sincerely meant it. Everything was going to be fine.
There was a small silence. The fire snapped and hissed, the wind and rain lashed at the house and somewhere a clock began to chime the quarter hour.
The overwhelming relief was tinged pink with a wash of embarrassment. As she’d suspected, the entire management-buyout scenario was a farce, dreamed up by the naïve and overactive imaginations of her family. She felt so foolish. Caught up in trying to win her father’s approval, she hadn’t even tried to engage her brain and ask sensible questions. She’d let them sweep her away with their panic and paranoid imaginings. Her heart felt a little colder and her slowly burgeoning confidence a little smaller.
“Do you have any idea who sold the game to Vivre?” she asked curiously.
“No. Do you?”
“How could I?” she replied, drooping like the daffodils that scattered the lawns.
“Are you all right?” Looking worried, Corbin had sat down next to her. “You’ve gone white as a sheet; you’re hands are freezing.” He cradled her small hands in his large, warm, brown ones.
“I’ve just realised I’ve made the most terrible, terrible mistake,” she blurted. “In fact, I have completely and utterly stuffed everything up. Completely,” she added for good measure. “I feel like I’ve nothing left to lose.”
“Is it something to do with Sunberri, with me?” he asked soothingly, curving his hand around hers and caressing gently with his thumb. Warmth travelled up her arm and lodged in the cold hollow of her chest. She began to feel a mite better. Perhaps she hadn’t been so stupid. After all, she’d been doing her best to protect her father, to fix the things her brother had started. Then she looked up into Corbin’s face.
At first glance he seemed calm, concerned, but his eyes glinted with a suppressed fury. Zani had to steel herself not to recoil, hoping that if she said what he wanted to hear and laid low he would not explode. “I…” She fumbled for excuses, frantically guessing what he wanted to hear. “There are some things I haven’t told you.”
“So you have lied to me.”
“Not exactly.”
“Well how would you describe it then? Tell me the truth, Zani. You have lied to me since the moment you met me. It’s so obvious. Surely you don’t think I’m so stupid as to believe you’re some poor personal assistant who is desperate for a job.” He dripped sarcasm. “Somehow you’re involved with all this, aren’t you? Admit it.”
“I, um, I, I…” Zani babbled, fighting panic, but Corbin didn’t give her a chance.
“Tell me who you are and why you came to Sunberri.”
It was as if her father and brother had merged into one and were sitting there, twisting her words, bullying, blackmailing and manipulating her. The spark of confidence that led her to defy her father on the phone evaporated, and familiar impotent anger overwhelmed her.
Almost of its own volition her hand shot out and she smacked Corbin hard across the face. He reacted instantly, grabbing her wrist and twisting it back so she couldn’t strike again. She looked up at him in terror. Her palm stung, and she could see the angry red outline of her hand on his face. She’d never raised her hand to another person in her life.
“I’m sorry,” she gasped, and then burst into tears.
“Christ, Zani, what have they done to you?” muttered Corbin, gathering her into his arms.
Secret Intentions
Chapter Nine
Time froze as Corbin bent and gently kissed Zani. The tenderness of his embrace offered her a sanctuary, an emotional backstop she’d never imagined existed. For a moment she relaxed into it. But the illusion lasted only for a few seconds. All the years she’d distrusted men asserted themselves, and the flood of warmth was replaced by a growing sense of humiliation. One minute he was trying to bully answers out of her, the next he was kissing her. She didn’t understand.
She tried to pull away. Startled, Corbin didn’t immediately let her go.
“I don’t need your pity,” she snarled at him, tearing herself out of his embrace and retreating to the safety of the fireplace. She folded her arms defensively across her chest, as if trying to contain the emotions he’d disturbed.
Corbin, who looked like he was taking a moment to catch up with the conversation, gave her a slow sensual smile.
“Zani, I wasn’t pitying you. I was kissing you,” he said with flawless logic, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. To her annoyance he seemed completely unperturbed by her outburst.
“Well, it looked a lot like pity to me.” She knew when people were feeling sorry for her. In fact she was an expert at it. Why else would he want to kiss her?
“I see. So you do a lot of pity kissing, do you?” he asked, grinning at the thought. Zani didn’t think it was funny.
“Stop it. Don’t mock me. Why else would you kiss me if it wasn’t out of pity?” She hesitated, realising how much she’d revealed, and waited tensely for what he would say next, convinced it’d be something that made her feel small and worthless.
“I kissed you because I wanted to. Because you are so beautiful. Because you were so sad and I knew it would make you happy. Because I can’t bear to see you cry, and it was the only way I could think of stopping you.”
Zani felt the warmth of the fire on the back of her legs and her frozen heart thawed slightly as Corbin said the sweet words.
“But I hit you.”
“Well, yes, I didn’t like that bit very much,” he said lightly. “But I don’t think you really meant to do it. And I’m sure it’s not going to happen again.”
“You’re mocking me. Maybe I did mean to do it. Maybe that’s how I always react when people say things I don’t like.”
His words flustered Zani and she shifted uncomfortably. The fire suddenly felt too hot, and she sat abruptly on the couch opposite him, arms folded, legs crossed.
“No, Zani, I’m not mocking you,” he stated unequivocally. “You just don’t strike me as the type of person who lashes out physically.”
“You barely know me, how can you assume that?” She dripped scorn. “I suppose with all your dubious experience of women you consider yourself some sort of an expert.”
She glared at him, daring him to venture into that sticky territory.
“To me women are a complete mystery, and that’s the way I like it. But I’ll tell you what I do know: you won’t hit me, because what you really want is to kiss me again.”
Wind taken out of her sails, Zani tried to decide if he was being arrogant or not.
“And the only reason I know that, is because of the way you kissed me before.”
He gave her a look that said “I’m going to be kissing you again, any minute now”. She valiantly countered with an “over my dead body” look. But they both knew she lied. That she fought a losing battle. A battle, she grudgingly admitted to herself, she was perfectly happy to lose.
“Oh stop it.”
“Stop what?”
“Being all French. It won’t work on me, you know. Not like the rest of your girlfriends.”
“My girlfriends?” He seemed amused. “I’ll tell you the truth, my last girlfriend’s name was Pixie, and the fact I had anything to do with her now makes me shudder to my core. I cannot begin to describe how enormous a mistake she turned out to be.”
The expression of misery that crossed his face so fascinated Zani that she forgot about being defensive.
&
nbsp; “But why? What happened?” She leant forward in anticipation, guiltily aware she should make some polite comment about it being none of her business. But for once he looked uncomfortable, and she nastily enjoyed the sudden wariness in his eyes.
“Well, simply put, she slept with me then sold the story to the tabloids. I’m surprised you haven’t seen it.”
Zani firmly stifled a laugh. “Oh, I don’t read any of that crap. Was it really awful?”
“No. It wasn’t. I’ve seen them print much worse, and to be truthful we only made it to page seventeen. The PR guys were thrilled. They reckoned it was worth it for the publicity it got for Sunberri. In their words, having a CEO who was worthy of the gossip columns did more for the company image as young and trendy than any amount of clever marketing and advertising. But it made me feel cheap and used. Not to mention the embarrassment. My mother thought it was hysterical,” he said grimly.
Zani was dying to ask more, find out what exactly the story had said. Was it some no-holds-barred sex story, or more of a miffed ex-girlfriend type of thing? She tried to formulate a delicate, tactful question, but Corbin forestalled her.
“More wine?” He picked up the bottle from the table and waved it at her. She held out her glass, and he filled it and took the opportunity to sit next to her as he did.
“You never went out with someone called Pixie?” Zani asked with incredulity. She was more than a little pleased Pixie had turned out to be such a perfidious vixen.
Corbin began to laugh. “Yes, I know, it’s true. Surely you must have somebody equally embarrassing in your past? Non?”
Zani couldn’t resist.
Secret Intentions Page 13