Chapter 13 Paige
Paige
My eyes crack open, burning, at just past eight in the morning and I let out a low groan. My body feels like I haven’t slept in days and my head is pounding.
I peek my head into the hall and listen, but don’t hear a thing. Zach’s bedroom door is open and the morning sun casts bright streaks through the doorway of his room into the hall. He’s up already?
A shower is what I need to clear my head and hopefully erase the aches and pains. The bathroom is fully stocked, and I treat myself to an extra-hot, extra-long shower with water spraying from not only above but all around me.
When I return to the room, wrapped in a towel, there’s a man dressed in what looks like a tuxedo hanging clothes in the walk-in closet.
I grip my towel tighter to my body. “Who are you?”
“Sorry, Ms. Hayes,” he says, exiting the closet with a beautiful sundress in his hand. “I’m JP—”
“Morning,” Zach says, entering the room. “JP’s my butler and sorry, he should have slipped in and out without you being disturbed.” Zach’s rebuking tone stings even if I’m not the intended target.
“It’s okay,” I rush to defend JP, a man I’ve only just met, at the same time he says, “My sincere apologies, Mr. Rothwell and Ms. Hayes. It won’t happen again.”
He lays the dress on the bed directly above cute sandals on the floor before skirting around me on his way to the door.
Pausing, he clasps his gloved hands. “Clothes and shoes are in the closet, sleepwear and undergarments in the drawers, and the dress...”—all eyes land on the lovely ocean blue dress on the bed—”is for your consideration.
Today’s going to be a hot one. And should you wish to wear something else, I’d be happy to let you know where everything is.
Breakfast will be ready in fifteen minutes. ”
JP vanishes, leaving me alone with Zach.
In a towel. My cheeks flame and it isn’t because I’m not dressed but because of this weird thing we have going on.
We’re business partners, if we can even call it that, and nothing more.
He’s pretty much fulfilled his part of the deal with my landlord no longer an issue—God, I hope he’s no longer an issue—and my part of the deal is to be his fake girlfriend.
Why, exactly, I’m not sure. I still can’t figure out the logic of it all.
Yet we’ve got chemistry.
But our worlds and lives are very different.
Oh, and let’s not forget, this isn’t real. I’m a temporary guest in his home and he went above and beyond what was expected of him. I feel like I’m getting the better part of this deal.
“How’d you sleep?” He keeps his eyes above my neck.
“Okay, thanks.” I finger the soft fabric of the dress. “Whose clothes are these?”
“Yours.” He walks into the closet as if inspecting JP’s work. “We’ll get your clothes from your place today or tomorrow. Tamara’s working on it and in the meantime, my personal shopper got you a few things.”
Shaking my head, I sit on the edge of my bed, ensuring my towel is secure. “I don’t even know where to start with all of that.”
“Pardon? What didn’t you understand?”
“Who’s Tamara? You have a personal shopper? And how does one get clothes in the middle of the night?”
His chuckle is deep and sexy. “Tamara is my lawyer and she’s taking care of Hummel. He’s in jail and I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure it stays that way. And as for the clothes, don’t worry about it—just enjoy them.”
“Zach, this is too much. I have my own clothes.” Something heavy and uncomfortable sinks into the pit of my stomach at the thought of where all my belongings are. “I already owe you for last night.”
“You don’t owe me anything.” He leans against the door, relaxed. “Well, other than your part of the deal.”
He tosses me one of his sexy winks and my core clenches. It should be illegal or come with a warning—just a wink and your panties will incinerate—but lucky for me, I’m not wearing any.
“And Paige.” Our gazes lock and dare I say his eyes are smoldering. “Wear the dress.”
With that he’s gone. Before putting on the dress I want to wear, I check out the room. Drawer after drawer is laden with expensive clothes, as is the closet. All of it stunning, way out of my budget, and some too fancy for what I usually wear.
Why would he buy me all this? I’m only here for the night and I have my own clothes. I won’t keep any of this and while awesome—no one has ever done something like this for me—it’s overboard.
Breakfast is bountiful and while I gorge on a stack of pancakes, the creamiest yogurt I’ve ever tasted, and the freshest fruit, I wonder if JP fixes a feast like this every day.
Zach sits across from me at the large breakfast table, drinking coffee and reading the paper. Yes, a newspaper where your hands get all black and grimy. How old is he?
“You don’t want breakfast?” I pop the last raspberry in my mouth.
“I already ate a while ago when I got home.”
“You were already out this morning?”
He folds the paper. “Yes, I play tennis Sunday mornings and have breakfast at the club.”
“The club?”
“The Rock Club. Walker, whom you met last night, and I rock climb on Saturdays and play tennis on Sundays.”
I snap my gaping mouth shut. Of course he’s a member of the Rock Club, an elite members-only recreation and social club in the city. I don’t know why I’m surprised. He runs in those circles and has access to the best of anything and everything the world has to offer.
“Oh, I see.”
Seeing I’m finished with my meal, Zach leads me onto the terrace before I can help JP clean up, and my eyes bulge at the expansive outdoor living space. I’m on the penthouse balcony of one of the most prestigious residences in Toronto, backing onto a large, lush ravine.
“This is gorgeous.”
“Yes, it’s nice to have a little green space in the city.”
I clamp my mouth shut to stifle the snort wanting to escape. “Little” green space. Please. I wonder if last night hadn’t happened if I’d ever have seen this magnificent place. Then I remember Zach contacted me.
“You called me last night. Why?”
“Nan wanted to invite you to lunch. You made quite the impression on many of the board members, including those on her foundation board. She wanted to talk some more about that.”
A warm breeze blows my hair around and he tucks a stray strand behind my ear. His long fingers skate along my hairline down to my neck. His lingering touch causes my breath to hitch and I almost lose focus on our conversation.
“She did mention all that the other night. I’d like to see her again. When?”
“Today, if you’re available. She said you mentioned weekends were easier for you. But I’ll tell her to find another time.” He runs his hand down his face and I wonder if all of this—last night and having me in his home—is too much of an inconvenience.
“No, don’t cancel. I’d like to go.”
He needs his space and while I won’t say it out loud, I could use the distraction of spending time with Nan.
“I’ll have to get my clothes at some point today and get settled into my parents’ place. And I’ll have to make arrangements for everything else.”
”I’ll take care of it.”
“Zach.” I tear my gaze from the horizon. “I appreciate all you’re doing but I can take care of it. We have a deal and you’ve fulfilled your part. You don’t have to keep doing things for me. I promise, I’ll keep my end of the deal, and let me start by having lunch with your grandmother.”
His steely blue eyes study me while his thumb trails along his bottom lip. It’s an innocuous gesture that grants me all kinds of crazy and unexpected feels. My body heats, stomach flutters, and knees weaken.
“Is that why you think I’m doing this? Because of the deal?”
I realize my error but I’m too late. The look on his face conveys just how displeased he is with my assumption. “Yes. Maybe?”
I’m beginning to think our deal—once agreed upon—was then shoved into unspoken territory and somehow I was supposed to know this, and stupidly I’ve wandered past the boundaries I wasn’t even aware existed.
“You’re wrong. My end of the deal, whether finished or not, has nothing to do with you staying here, getting your clothes, or anything else that I choose to do for you.”
“Okay.” Unable to hold his intense stare, I glance over the verdant treetops to the bridge with the cars whipping across the ravine.
“I realize we barely know each other.” He steps into my line of sight and I’m forced to look at him or not, and that would be deliberately rude. “I like you and consider you a friend.”
“Okay. We’re friends.” He relaxes a little at my agreement.
His features soften and shoulders drop, and I can’t say I’m against the notion of being his friend. I could do worse than Zachary Rothwell for a friend.
“Go to lunch with Nan and let me handle things.”
I nod, at a loss for words.
His kindness offsets the events of last night as a warmth moves through me. With a couple hours to spare before lunch, he retreats to his office, a spacious, window-walled room overlooking the same view as the terrace, and I call my mom and then Drew.
By the time they are both assured I’m fine and neither should come home, I’m drained and ready for a change of scenery. Lunch with Nan Rothwell is just what I need to take my mind off things.