Chapter 3
3
Bethany, talk to me. Pick up the phone.
Bethany shoved her feet into her black pumps and attempted to ignore her phone and the messages that were starting to pile up.
She wasn’t due back to work yet—Keely had taken one look at her when she’d picked her up from The Indigo Lounge VIP area last week and emailed Sheena to tell her Bethany wouldn’t be in for another couple of weeks.
Leaving Marrakech the morning after Zach’s atomic revelation, she’d thought she’d never be in the frame of mind to function properly again. But reality had a way of forcing you to face it, even when you were an emotional wreck who wanted nothing more than to stay in bed forever with the curtains drawn.
And reality had come in the form of a Friday morning email from The SMC Group, asking if she was available for an interview at ten. She’d wanted to ignore the email, to pull the covers over her head and drown in the misery she was wading neck-deep in.
Then the anger had started to build. She’d done nothing wrong, except fall in love with a man who’d been ultimately unattainable. It made her a whole lot stupid, yes, but it didn’t mean she had to crawl away and die. Even if every single cell in her body craved to do just that.
And, seriously, there was a bright side to all of this. She’d had, hands down, the best sex of her life. Something memoir-worthy should she be so inclined to memorialize her very brief experience at some distant date in the future…
Jesus. She stopped and sucked in a breath. She was losing it. Perfectly understandable, but if she was to have even a hope of making any form of impression at her interview, she needed to get her head out of Marrakech and back into New York mode asap!
She picked up her phone just as another message came through.
I can’t stop thinking about you. I’m in agony, baby. Please, pick up the phone.
She turned her phone to silent before the inevitable ringing started, and she tried to get her thoughts into professional work mode. She had time on the ride to SMC’s Midtown office to brush up on what she’d said in her resume. She just needed to stop her brain from deciphering every single nuance of Zachary’s message. The man had a way with words. And he was particularly ruthless when it came to getting his way.
Well, she was done rolling over for Zach Savage. And if the thought immediately caused another shattering of the fragile pieces of her heart, it was just something else she would have to suck up today.
The interview passed in a blur of polished questions and equally polished answers, accompanied by a mildly out-of-body feel during the hour she spent in the CEO’s office.
Before she left, Bethany was certain she wouldn’t take the job even if it was offered to her. Her potential new boss was a carbon copy of Sheena, and taking anything they had to offer would be making a bad situation worse.
She’d made enough of a mess of that in her private life. Feeling another vibration in her purse, she tried to tell herself she wasn’t really interested in what else Zach had to say. Her hand reached for the phone anyway.
Fuck. Stop this. I miss you. Z.
But as she read the latest text, her heart started to pound.
You made promises too, Bethany. You promised I wouldn’t lose you no matter what. You promised you wouldn’t hold yourself back from me. You’re reneging on both promises.
She stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. Someone bumped into her and followed through with the classic New York response of “Watch it, bitch.”
Her fingers shook as she pressed the button.
He answered immediately. “Bethany?”
Just like that, the world fell away. She was back in his arms, in that exhilarating place that felt like nothing else in her universe. The way Zachary Savage said her name made her want to break down and weep with equal amounts of joy and sorrow.
He exhaled noisily down the line. “Please say something, baby.”
The world snapped back into sharp focus. Horns blared and people rushed past at breakneck speed. Sights, sounds, smells. But all the wrong ones. She yearned to be back in Paris or in Marrakech. Before everything had gone to shit.
“You want me to say something? How dare you pull me up on my promises when you never kept even one of yours?” Her voice, husky from all the emotions she was trying to keep inside, sounded like she’d smoked a pack of cigarettes for breakfast.
“Bethany—”
“You expect me to keep trotting after you like some horny puppy after you dropped a bombshell at my feet and walked away? Let’s try this for a second. What if I’d been the one to throw that grenade at your feet? Would you want to carry on blithely, as if what I’d said didn’t matter?”
“No. But I wouldn’t have walked away either. I let you go because?—”
“You let me go? FYI, I am my own person. I may have let you have too much of your own way back in Paris and Marrakech, but don’t mistake willing for spineless.”
“I never thought you were spineless.”
That appeased her a little, but anger still burned in her gut that he would use her promises against her. “Your last text was a low blow. I’m disappointed that you would sink to that level.”
“I wanted to get your attention.”
She noted that he hadn’t apologized. That Zach was still very much in play. “Well, you succeeded. For a minute. Goodbye?—”
“No! Dammit, don’t hang up.”
Her grip tightened on the phone. Someone else bumped into her and a hiss of anger was swiftly followed by a rude suggestion of what she could do to herself.
“Where are you?” Zach demanded.
“I’m standing in the middle of the sidewalk somewhere in Midtown,” she replied before she could think better of it.
She heard the distinct sound of a chair being shoved back. “I can be there in fifteen minutes. Tell me exactly where?—”
“Wait a minute. You’re in New York?” Shock rocked through her. Somehow, she’d imagined he was calling from his base in San Francisco. Learning that he was in the same city made her hot and cold at the same time.
The idea that he was fifteen minutes away made her heart flip over.
“I’m trying not to be disturbed by the fact that you think I’d be anywhere else but where you are.”
Words, she reminded herself. They were just words. And Zach Savage was very good with his words, even when they hid his true meaning.
When she was bumped a third time, Bethany forced herself to move. She wanted to ask him how long he’d been in New York but clamped her mouth shut.
“I took the next commercial flight right after my plane left to bring you home,” he volunteered softly. “You needed time, so I didn’t want to force my presence on you on my plane. Tell me where you are.”
She reached an intersection and stopped. “No.”
“Please, baby.”
“You were right about me needing time.”
He breathed out, and Bethany could imagine his eyes narrowing into laser-sharp focus. “It’s been a week, Bethany. It’s felt like three fucking lifetimes, but it’s been a goddamn week.”
The lights changed, and she went with the flow of human traffic. She had no idea where she was headed but moving was a little better than being frozen like a robot, attuned to Zach’s voice. “I know exactly how long it’s been. Are you ready to explain what you meant in Marrakech?”
His silence lasted a few seconds but it felt like a year. “I told you, it’s not that easy.”
The permanent vice-like grip around her chest tightened another notch. “Then I guess I’ll be taking more time.”
He sighed. “Dammit, Bethany, stop these games.”
“Fuck you, Zach. You don’t get to say that to me. If there’s even a tiny shred of game-playing, it’s not on my part. If you trust nothing else, trust me on that. You’ve taken pleasure in fucking with my head since we met. You won’t be given the opportunity to mind-fuck me anymore.”
“I know you want answers?—”
“Answers, which you’ve made clear you’re not prepared to give me. Knowing I’m not worthy of your trust hurts, and I refuse to hurt anymore. So unless you’re about to propose anything remotely close to what I need, I fail to see the point of this phone call.”
“The fucking point is I need you. I miss you. I can’t sleep without you. I can barely fucking function,” he growled.
She stumbled, hating herself for the betraying flow of warmth that started in her belly and arrowed straight between her legs. Spying a coffee shop ahead, she quickly darted inside and found a pre-lunchtime empty seat.
“I know you’re not functioning well either, baby.” His voice softened, almost crooning in her ear.
“Right. And you know this how?”
“Because I know you. Inside and out. Tell me where you are. I need to see you. We can talk.”
“By talk you really mean fuck, don’t you? Because you know there’s only one thing I want to talk about. And since we both know you don’t want to talk about that, there can only be one thing on your mind.”
He sighed. “I need more time, Bethany. There are other factors involved beyond me revealing what happened six years ago. But I’m working on it.”
Her heart slowed with a painful thud. “You know something, Zach. Ever since we met you’ve used some variation of that line to keep the important parts of your life from me. Why did you even bother to tell me about your… about Farrah? Oh, wait, you didn’t. I only found out because you were dreaming about her while you were in bed with me.”
“Christ, Bethany?—”
She gave a laugh that scraped her throat and drew the wary attention of the guy on the next table. “And now I sound like a fucking neurotic bitch for wanting to control who you dream about. That’s what you’ve reduced me to. You need more time? Sure. Go ahead and take all the time you need.”
She ended the call. Her phone rang immediately. She flipped it to silent and sucked in a shaky breath.
The guy glanced at her again. His expression slowly turned from wary to appreciative. She stared back, forcing herself to look properly. He wasn’t bad looking. He was well built with a pleasantly charming face and thick brown hair that flopped over one eye. Earphones rested over his buff shoulders, and he was dressed in a casually trendy way that flattered his body.
Her gaze clashed with his again. His interest was definitely sparked.
Once upon a time, she would’ve been extremely flattered.
Now, she felt nothing. Not even the mild feminine satisfaction of catching another man’s attention.
Because the only attention she wanted was Zach’s. First and always. Except Zach had only one interest. Her body.
She looked away from the guy and didn’t even feel bad when she sensed his disappointment. Her heart hurt too much. Her body hurt even worse.
“Zach Savage Withdrawal” was a condition she’d become agonizingly familiar with over the past seven days. The ache hadn’t been gradual. The pain of walking away from Zach had been immediate. And excruciating.
She’d shut down completely once she’d boarded his plane to come home. She’d slept the whole journey, as if her body was preparing her for the rough ride ahead.
When she’d woken a half-hour before they’d landed at Newark, she’d relived the events of the night before and been stunned Zach had let her leave.
She may have been angry when he’d reminded her just now, but the truth was that if he’d asked her to stay she would’ve seriously considered it. In that moment after his stark declaration, he’d been vulnerable enough for her to have pulled the information out of him had she so chosen.
Of course, shock had played a huge part in rendering her mindless for those precious minutes. The triple whammy of Zach being married for just one day before he… he…
God. She couldn’t think about that last statement. No matter how much it’d knocked about in her head, demanding an answer, she couldn’t wrap her mind around Zach’s stark confession.
I’ve never wielded an axe in my life…
He’d said that to her in Paris. He’d looked like he’d meant it. And seriously, if Zachary Savage, billionaire extraordinaire, had taken an axe to anyone, surely it would’ve made breaking news?
A bark of hysterical laughter startled from her throat.
Cute guy veered back to wary guy. The waitress walking past barely glanced her way. She was probably used to nut jobs stopping by to reminisce about their axe murderer ex-lovers just before the lunch crowd descended. Another laugh threatened to burst out, but she swallowed it down.
You’ve finally fucking lost it, Bethany.
Standing, she picked up her bag and sucked in another breath. She was walking out of the shop when her phone vibrated.
Heart jumping into her throat, she read the message.
There’s a time limit on how long I’m prepared to live without you. The clock’s counting down fast, and I’m slowly losing my mind. One way or the other, this will have to end soon. Z.