Chapter 8 Paige
Paige
Berating myself for being a fool, I rush from Zachary’s office, torn between grateful and disappointed he isn’t trying to stop me from leaving.
Whatever.
I’m not surprised our arrangement is over although I am surprised at how quickly it ended. We have nothing in common and trying to make people believe we’re a good match is just insane.
Now I’m back to solving my problems with my landlord. I’ll have to look for my own lawyer, or hopefully Drew can point me in the right direction. This will also mean paying legal fees and that’s a problem. I don’t have extra cash lying around.
That’s the very reason I agreed to this stupid arrangement. Zachary Rothwell was supposed to be free. I should have known the adage ‘nothing is free’ would bite me in the ass. Turns out, Zach’s deal comes with a hefty price tag.
Where the hell does he get off insulting me like that? And for what? Because I was talking to a man?
I’m so caught up in my thoughts, I don’t see Donovan standing at the bank of elevators until he speaks.
“Paige.” He smiles warmly and I wish I’d been paying more attention. I would have taken the chance to slink out of sight.
“Hi.” I plaster on the biggest smile I can muster.
No need to be rude. It isn’t his fault Zach is a jerk. From what I remember, Donovan is a nice guy and at one point, I had wanted to pursue something with him.
“Sorry about that back there.” He points toward where I just escaped.
“Don’t worry about it.”
“So, you and Rothwell, huh?”
I shrug, not really having a comment. If I dare speak about Zach, I’ll end up saying something I’ll regret. Not fully aware of Donovan’s relationship with Zach, I don’t want to screw up anything by saying something inappropriate even if the jerk deserves it.
“I’m guessing it’s serious if you’re going to the board dinner.” He pushes for more and quickly fills the silent void as my lips remain sealed. “I’ve known Zach for easily half his life and this will be a first—bringing a date to a board dinner.”
“Mine too,” I relent, smiling weakly. He doesn’t have to know that I’m no longer going.
“Listen, if you’re leaving.” His eyes flick behind me, the way I came, as if expecting Zach to show up any minute now. Not a chance. “Can I buy you a drink?”
I’m not thrown by his invitation. I could see his intention in his gaze, and I don’t answer right away, weighing what a drink with him could mean.
He will want to probe for more about Zach and me, figure out what exactly is going on. As for my interests? I don’t have any where Donovan is concerned. That ship sailed a long time ago.
Sure, he’s handsome, but I’ve sworn off men. And then there is Zach.
Speaking of the devil, he barges past Donovan, eyes, as well as the rest of him, gunning for me.
“Zach—” His name lingers on my tongue as his large manicured hands cup my face, shooting tingling waves to every part of my body.
It happens so fast and so slow. His icy blue eyes peer down at me and my attention drifts to his lips. The very ones twisted in anger not too long ago. But now, they are wet and softly parted as he bends to take mine.
Pleasure floods my body, pulsing through my belly, and I lower my eyelids as the heat of his kiss consumes me. Some kind of ding goes off somewhere in the distance and it’s followed by movement close by.
“I don’t have to tell you two to have a good night.” Donovan’s humorous comment vaguely penetrates my drunken kiss-induced haze.
I can barely form a coherent thought.
I’m kissing Zachary Rothwell.
No, make that Zachary Rothwell is kissing me.
And holy hell, the man knows how to kiss.
Somewhere in the back of my mind I register that this shouldn’t be happening, but I just can’t, not even for my own self-respect, care.
I’m enjoying it way too much. More than I should.
Before I can take stock and catalogue every stroke or command of his tongue, teeth, and lips, he breaks the kiss.
He’s still holding my head, and we’re close enough that I could lean in and take more. There would be no effort on my part, only pleasure, to cover my mouth over his and take. Get my fill of this infuriating man who knows how to kiss the ever-loving daylights out of me.
My brain is mush and my knees aren’t much better.
So this is what it feels like to be marked.
“I was...” His voice is husky and anything else he was going to say fades.
We’re not even an inch or two apart, he’s still bent, cupping my face, and our foreheads are plastered together.
“Out of line,” I say, and he nods.
“A jerk,” I continue and again his head nods in agreement.
“All those things.” He finally finds his tongue as his hands drop to his sides and he pulls away.
His retreat is like an arctic breeze, chilling my bones. He busies himself and tugs at the ends of his button-down sleeves, one and then the other, before glancing at me. Pressing his lips together, Zach’s molten gaze drifts down to mine.
Oh no. He’s not going to get away with that. His look, the one that says he’s revelling in reliving our kiss, isn’t going to distract me from the conversation at hand.
“Yet you have nothing to add to that?”
I fold my arms and then drop them and now his filthy stare flicks downward. My traitorous nipples stiffen, erect, more than eager for his attention.
“Let’s forget earlier. Start over.” It’s a declaration but I can’t help feeling he’s sweeping dirt under a rug. “A car is downstairs waiting to take you home. Take the dress. I’m having it brought down to the car as we speak. And I’ll see you Friday night.”
“No way. This isn’t going to work for me.”
The dirt may be hidden, but it’s still there. Out of sight but not gone just like the sting of his insult.
“Good night, Mr. Rothwell.”
I press the elevator button and he watches with a sly grin. My fingers wipe at the edges of my mouth, giving the impression the kiss was a nuisance or of no consequence instead of the reality. Mind-blowing.
Getting into the elevator with me, he escorts me to the car in silence. The driver opens the door and before I can get into the car, Zach grabs my hand and I’m forced to glance back at him.
“I’ll see you on Friday.”
“Maybe.”
He chuckles, inching closer to me with his hand now on my hip and turning me to face him. “I’m sorry.”
My teeth sink into my lower lip to stop the smile from spreading, but there’s no stopping the butterflies flapping wildly in my belly. “Good night, Zach.”
“Good night, Paige.” He presses his lips to my forehead and my eyes flutter closed. “I can’t wait to see you in that dress.”
The drive home and the following days are a haze of questions and uncertainty. I’ve got a monkey on my back and something gnawing at me and no matter what I do, I can’t seem to shake it.
Despite the anxious feeling, I move headlong into my plans for Friday night. True to his word, the designer gown fits me perfectly. I don’t know how he pulled it off and at this point, it doesn’t matter. I’m in awe at how lovely it looks and feels on my body.
Zach checks in with me on Friday morning, giving me a day to get over our tiff. That’s my guess anyway as to why he didn’t call the very next day. And he’s smart. It works.
In between work, checking in on Bas, and getting nails, hair, and waxing done—all for my debut as Zachary Rothwell’s plus one—the memory of Wednesday night’s argument is forgotten.
It’s now Friday afternoon and only hours before Zach will arrive when I get the call I’ve been avoiding.
“Hey, Drew, how are you?” I slip off my Chucks and lock the front door. I’m home from the hair salon and all I have left to do is my makeup and put on the dress.
“What’s this I hear about you dating Rothwell?”
“I was going to say something. Who told you? Mom?”
“Sam. I introduced you to him so he could help you, not date you.”
“I wouldn’t call it dating, but is it a bad thing if we are dating?” I’m walking a fine line between the truth and a lie.
“He’d be a lucky guy to have you.”
I can hear hollers of ‘damn straight’ in the background from my best friend and I laugh. Pippa always eavesdrops on our conversations and I don’t mind. It isn’t like I’m not going to tell her anyway.
“We’ve seen each other once. We’re going to dinner tonight. That’s it.”
“Why Rothwell? Isn’t he too clean-cut, too successful, too put together for you?”
An unattractive snort from me follows his comment about Zach being everything all my past boyfriends weren’t. “You’re a laugh riot.”
“Well?”
“Well, what? I didn’t hear a question.”
“Fine.”
“What’s it to you if I date him? Don’t you like him?”
“This has nothing to do with like. I don’t know him. He’s a businessman. A ruthless one at that. Be careful.” A near growl filters over the phone and my brother’s worry gives me pause.
“Paige, you go at everything with your heart and I don’t know where Rothwell’s coming from—oh, scratch that, I know exactly where he’s coming from—”
“Drew,” I groan, so not wanting the sex lecture.
“I don’t want you hurt. Rothwell isn’t like the douches you’re used to.”
“So, let me get this straight. You’re saying he must be using me, or he’ll take it and leave it because there’s no way in hell he could genuinely like me and want to spend time with me?”
My gut clenches at the picture I’ve painted and more importantly, how accurate the depiction. Everything I’ve said is in fact what’s happening with Zach. And saying it out loud only makes me feel cheap and used even though Zach has been nothing but a gentleman—well, for the most part.
“That’s not what I’m saying. I’m messing this up.”
Guilt socks me in the chest. I’m the one messing this up by making my brother feel shitty when all he’s doing is looking out for me.
“I get it. It’s fine. But there is something I want to know.”
“What?”
“Why does Zach owe you?”
“It’s nothing.” His tone is dismissive.
“Well, if that’s so then you can tell me all about it.”