Chapter Nine
It was curious how much Archimedes looked forward to finishing up his meeting so he could get back to Zoe.
Normally, he was the last to leave, bringing work home with him wherever he went, losing himself in whatever project he had on at the time, always needing to get back and getting restless when he wasn’t able to. But not this time.
He had a penthouse in Manhattan that overlooked Central Park, and he liked Zoe’s round-eyed awe when she first walked into it. Not so much the fact that she was awed as her honest and unhidden reaction. The Zoe he remembered, not the guarded, wary woman she was now.
They had dinner that first night, as she’d insisted, though they talked mostly about what she wanted to see in New York rather than anything else. Afterwards, he took her to bed, because the flight had been a test of both his control and his patience, and he was tired of holding back.
Over the next couple of days Zoe was happy to sightsee while he worked, but he found himself growing more and more impatient with having to do that, wanting to be with Zoe instead, to show her the sights they’d talked about as kids.
Coney Island. The Statue of Liberty. The Empire State Building and Rockefeller Center.
He knew he shouldn’t be jealous that she didn’t wait for him to do these things, but he was jealous all the same.
And frustrated with himself. The work he was doing with Ares was important, and he shouldn’t be getting distracted with a woman.
Then again, she wasn’t just any woman. She was Zoe and he hadn’t seen her for years, and while in bed she was passionate, hungry and responsive, he found that that wasn’t enough. He wanted more.
Five days after they’d arrived in New York, he came home from a meeting to find Zoe in the penthouse’s huge living area, sitting on one of the soft sectional sofas, surrounded by souvenirs. There were pens, tea towels, postcards and fridge magnets, and it was obvious that she’d been to MoMA.
A pulse of irrational fury went through him at the sight, because he’d offered to take her himself. He’d wanted to take her himself and she hadn’t told him she was going or waited for him either.
She looked up as he came into the room, her instinctive smile fading as she saw the look on his face.
He’d come to love that smile of hers, it reminded him of themselves as kids, when she’d always look for him in every room she walked into, giving him her warm, bright, automatic Zoe smile.
She’d begun doing that over the past couple of days, and he hadn’t known how badly he’d missed it until he saw the lack of it right now. It only made his temper worse.
He should have said something self-deprecating and casual—at least he meant to. But what came out was, ‘You went without me.’
Zoe blinked at his tone, then frowned. ‘Went without you where?’
‘To MoMA.’ It shouldn’t have sounded like an accusation, but it did.
‘Oh.’ She looked surprised. ‘I didn’t know you were so invested in it.’
He felt ridiculous all of a sudden, standing there being incensed that she’d gone somewhere without him.
In fact, it shouldn’t matter at all, because what did he care?
It was just a fucking art museum. Except he couldn’t shake his anger.
He’d been looking forward to it, anticipating it, had even been planning a picnic in the park afterwards, and yet…
‘I told you I wanted to take you,’ he said, his voice coming out much sharper than it should. ‘That’s what I said in the plane, remember?’
Zoe’s frown deepened into a scowl. ‘If you’d wanted so badly to take me then you should have made arrangements and told me. I wanted to see it today so I went.’
Archimedes tried to keep hold of his temper. It wasn’t good that he was so on edge, that his feelings were too close to the surface. Losing his temper because he felt left out of a trip was ridiculous.
You’re getting too hung up on her. You need to put some distance between you.
He definitely should. This anger was verging into dangerous territory and he couldn’t allow it. Yes, he’d asked her to come with him, to travel with him, and at night, when she was naked and in his arms, he’d never regretted asking her. But now…perhaps it hadn’t been such a good idea after all.
What about Chloe? Perhaps you should make time to see her, forget Zoe for a while.
Oh, he remembered Chloe, his New York lover. Sensual and hungry, with a hot mouth. He’d had some good times with her. Pity the idea of her didn’t excite him.
Zoe was getting up off the couch and coming towards him, still frowning. Her hair was loose down her back and she was wearing her usual T-shirt and jeans, nothing out of the ordinary. Except he felt suddenly desperate for her in a way that seemed almost uncontrollable.
‘Why are you so angry?’ she asked, coming to stand in front of him. ‘I know you said you’d take me, but I didn’t realise it was so important to you.’
‘It’s not,’ he said curtly, reaching for her, his palms on her hips as he pulled her against him. ‘It’s just been a long day.’
She lifted her hands and pressed them against his chest as if she’d been doing so for years, as if touching him was her right, and the hungry thing inside him growled, wanting more.
‘No,’ she said. ‘It mattered to you.’
‘It’s fine,’ he lied, fitting her more firmly against him. ‘I can take you somewhere else. We’ll be going to Tokyo in a few days anyway, and I can show you some of the temples.’
But her frown didn’t lift. ‘Why are you lying?’
‘I’m not lying,’ he growled, curving his hands over her rear and squeezing her gently. ‘You should make it up to me right now.’
She eyed him. ‘It’s not night, Demon.’
She had been calling him that lately, Demon, as if they were still who they’d been to each other when they were kids, and every time she said it, the sound sent an electric shock through him.
It had the same effect on him now, and he squeezed her again, pressing her against his rapidly hardening cock.
‘I don’t care,’ he said. ‘Let’s pretend it’s night now.
’ When he’d insisted on her being in his bed every night, he hadn’t thought she’d hold him to the letter of it.
There had been times when he’d wanted her during the day, or in the morning or the afternoon, but she’d insisted on only sleeping with him at night, in bed.
At first, he’d been content to wait because it was good for his self-control, but now he wasn’t content at all.
He thought he had some boundaries when it came to her, and now it was obvious that he didn’t.
‘No,’ she said insistently. ‘Remember what I said about not being your paid escort?’
Every part of him tightened with anger and frustration. ‘Why?’ he demanded. ‘Why does that matter? You want me, Zoe, I know you do.’ And of course she did, he could see how the silver of her eyes had darkened, how her muscles had relaxed and how, even now, she was melting against him.
‘There have to be some boundaries,’ she said, a huskiness in her voice despite what she’d said. ‘If I give you an inch, you’ll take a mile and you know you would.’
He made another frustrated noise and released her abruptly, his groin aching at the loss of her warmth. ‘I don’t give a fuck about boundaries and I don’t think you do either.’
‘Maybe,’ she said. ‘But I don’t want to get confused about what’s happening here. We’re married and we’re sleeping together, Demon. This is beginning to look like a real marriage and it can’t be, you know that.’
‘Of course I know that,’ he snapped. ‘You think I don’t? It’s just sex, Zoe. It’s not a big deal.’
An expression he couldn’t read flickered over her face then.
‘Actually,’ she said quietly, ‘sex is a big deal. At least it is for me.’ She took a little breath, as if bracing herself. ‘You were my first, Archimedes.’
A cold wave of shock hit him. ‘What?’ he asked blankly. ‘What do you mean I was your first?’
‘What do you think I mean? I’ve never slept with anyone else except you.’
Instantly he thought back to that night on the terrace. How he’d grabbed and kissed her. How he’d swept everything off the table and put her up on it. How he’d shoved her thighs apart and pushed into her, too desperate for any niceties. Hell, he’d even thought that she was inexperienced.
You took no care with her and then afterwards you walked away.
The cold seeped through him like snow sliding down the back of his neck, chilling him to the bone. He had been careless that night. He’d lost control of himself, obeyed only his hunger, hadn’t thought of the consequences, and he’d hurt her. Maybe not physically, but emotionally.
It reminded him of that cold morning on the yacht, in the stateroom, when he’d found out about his father, and how he’d looked around and seen himself clearly for the first time in ten years. Realising that, far from being in control of himself, he was letting his appetites control him.
He’d thought those appetites had been mastered, that sleeping with her would make things easier, but it hadn’t. He was even more on edge than he had been in Greece, and that couldn’t be allowed.
She must have seen the expression on his face because she said suddenly, ‘You weren’t to know. I didn’t tell you.’
‘Why didn’t you?’ he demanded, his whole body tense with shock.
If she was offended by his tone she didn’t show it. ‘Because it happened too fast and I was…’
She faltered, her mouth tightening, and he found himself staring at her, desperate to know what she’d been going to say, because she was right.
This did matter. He’d been telling himself that sleeping with her was no big deal, but he’d assumed that she’d felt the same way.
He’d assumed that, sure she might be inexperienced, but she’d slept with at least someone.
But she hadn’t. She’d told him the truth. And what was worse was that beneath the shock, something else shifted inside him, something possessive and jealous that was pleased he’d been her first. Pleased that she hadn’t been with anyone but him.