Chapter 20
20
Bethany gripped the phone harder. She’d been putting off telling Keely about her renewed reconnection with Zach. Now it was too late.
“I meant to tell you. I really did.”
“Right, you had your chance when I asked you what you were working on. Obviously, you chose not to share that you were working on a commission for the Indigo Lounge and for none other than Zach Savage, the man you’re obviously banging again.”
Bethany cringed. “I wasn’t… I didn’t know how things would pan out. I still don’t… I’m sorry.”
“Fuck sorry. You think I would’ve interfered, is that it?”
Guilt assailed her when she silently admitted the truth to herself. “I didn’t know what I was thinking myself, but I wanted to make any decisions without…” She stopped and bit her lip.
“Without Pushy Keely’s influence?”
“No. I like Pushy Keely. But I was scared Kick-Zach-In-The-Nuts Keely would hurt my man.”
“Oh right, he’s your man now, is he?” Keely’s voice rose.
Bethany sighed. “We’re trying to work through it. Like you suggested.”
Keely remained silent for several seconds. Then she sniffed. “I fucking hate that you shut me out. I don’t want to lose you, B.”
“You won’t.”
“You say that, but you’re already keeping things from me. Next, you’ll be telling me you’re flying off again with billionaire lover boy to some exotic paradise.”
Bethany’s heart flipped over with more guilt as her silence damned her.
“Fuck, Bethany!”
“It’s for work, Keely.”
“Sure, you keep on believing that. Because of all the event planning outfits in New York Zach Savage could’ve picked, he just happened to pick the one where you work,” she drawled.
“Okay, maybe it’s also to get away from things like this photo.” She flicked her finger against her computer screen, but her gaze was riveted on the picture of her and Zach, taken at the exact moment before he’d kissed her on the forehead in the aircraft hangar.
At least it wasn’t a picture taken on the inside of the plane. She cringed harder at the thought of that happening.
Nevertheless, this picture was equally as potent. The look on Zach’s face… The look on hers.
“The way he’s looking at you, B,” Keely whispered raggedly, so perfectly in tune with Bethany’s racing thoughts. “It scares me how much he wants you. Especially when you still don’t know shit about his past.”
Bethany shivered. She yearned to reassure her friend, to spill what Zach had told her this morning in his bathroom. They’d never kept secrets from each other in the past. But this was the kind of secret she couldn’t tell. Even if it came to nothing, Keely was the type of friend who’d fight to the death for her, whether Bethany wanted her to or not. And if there were legal implications to what Zach would eventually reveal, then no way could she jeopardize his safety by betraying his trust.
“I’ll be okay, Keely. He won’t… he won’t hurt me that way. I mean physically.”
“How do you know? Did he say something?” she snapped.
“No, not exactly. I really can’t talk about it.” Bethany could feel Keely’s hurt as if she was stood in front of her. She closed her eyes and swallowed. “I’m sorry.”
“Not as sorry as I am. I’ll see you around, B.” The line went dead.
Crap!
She blinked back the tears that welled and stared blindly at the picture that was currently trending on Twitter.
A New Prey In Savage’s Lair?
The caption would’ve been ridiculous, if it wasn’t ridiculously accurate. There was no room for ambivalence in the picture whatsoever. Zach was staring at her as if he wanted to devour her. And she was staring back as if she yearned to be his next meal.
Another shiver ripped through her. God .
If the whole world could see how she felt about him, what hope did she have of denying him what he wanted from her?
When her phone went again, she forced herself to check the caller ID. Seeing who it was, she answered with shaking fingers.
“I really need to teach you a lesson in answering your phone immediately when I call.” His voice held a hard, savage bite, tinged with a boatload of anxiety.
“I’m sorry… I was online with Sheena. Then Keely called…” Her voice fractured.
“What’s wrong?” he demanded sharply.
“She’s mad at me.”
“Because of me?”
“Because of us. She thinks she’s losing me.”
“You have two demanding alphas in your life. One has to win eventually, baby.” His tone spelled out clearly that he intended to be the victor. And damned if she didn’t want it to be him.
“I want you both.”
“Then we’ll find a way to make it work.” He spoke with such conviction that it immediately set her anxiety at ease.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Did you see the photo?” he asked warily.
“Yes,” she answered simply. “It’s…”
“Revealing? Yes. It is.”
“Do you know who took it?”
“Yes.” His voice turned deadly sharp. “And that problem’s been taken care of.”
Her breath shuddered out. “Is there another problem?” She didn’t know if she could bear it if this picture became yet another thing between them.
“I’m working on it. We’ll talk about it when I get there.”
Surprise arrowed through her. “You’re on your way here?”
His silence told her how he felt about her question.
“Sorry, I just didn’t think…”
“No, you didn’t. I’ll be there in five minutes. You know what to do.” He hung up.
She got up from her tiny desk and went to the door to buzz down to the front desk. “Vlad, I have a friend coming over.”
“Yes, Miss Green. He’s already here. He’s on his way up.”
When Zach exited the elevator a minute later, his face was set in grim lines. She realized he’d tried to moderate his tone on the phone. Seeing him, watching the tension twisting through his frame and the way he moved, she swallowed.
“Is it that bad?” she asked after he set her free following a searing kiss.
He shut the front door and followed her into the living room. “It could be,” he clipped out. He stared at her for a long moment, then he began to pace the room.
“Don’t shut me out. You’re worried. Tell me why,” she said.
He stopped and jerked his fingers through his hair. “I didn’t want certain parties finding out about us. Just yet.”
She winced inwardly at the dart of pain that lanced beneath her breastbone.
“Certain parties.”
“Farrah’s family,” he replied. “I don’t care that they know about you, but I don’t want to give them any more ammunition to stall them providing their consent.”
Her pain eased. “Oh. I see.”
His gaze sharpened. “What are you thinking? Or should I ask what were you thinking a moment ago?”
“I thought… you were… ashamed for them to know about me.”
He inhaled deep and long. “Ashamed. Jesus, on top of everything else going on, do I have to take the time to show you again how much you mean to me? How incredibly fucking blessed I feel to have you in my life?”
Her heart did that crazy gooey shit again. “I… No,” she said hurriedly. “I’m good.”
He put his hands on his hips and glared at her. “You better be. A reminder fuck would take too long.”
She couldn’t stop her smirk. “You have somewhere else to be?”
“No, but I don’t want to be accused of distracting you. I sent you the final list by the way,” he threw at her, then he resumed pacing.
She wanted to tell him she’d finished her work for the evening, but she had a feeling sex would very quickly climb back up the menu if she confessed that. And more than anything, she wanted to establish a connection with him some other way.
“So what are you going to do about the photo?”
“My attorney is dealing with it. I can’t have direct contact with her family.”
Her eyebrows rose. “They filed a restraining order against you?”
He reefed his fingers through his hair. “No. We just agreed that it would be better that way.”
“God, just what the hell happened?” When he stopped pacing, she raised her hands. “I know you can’t talk about the actual event, but tell me something… anything! How did you and Farrah meet?” she asked in a rush before he could tell her something inane that told her nothing.
He stared off into the distance and swallowed.
A terror-filled breath caught in her throat as she walked slowly toward him. “Would you like a drink?”
Turbulent grey eyes refocused and stared down at her for an age. Finally, he nodded. She went into the kitchen, got a couple of glasses and a corkscrew, and grabbed a bottle of red from her alcove. He was seated when she returned, albeit leaning forward with elbows on knees and thrumming with tension.
He took the bottle from her and patted the seat next to him. When she sat, he worked the foil loose and held out his hand for the corkscrew. He poured and handed her a glass before pouring his own.
Sitting back, he pulled her in to his side, his fingers sliding through her hair to gently caress her scalp. For several minutes he stayed like that. And although outwardly he may have looked calm and assured, she heard the erratic beating of his heart.
Remembering Marrakech when she’d been sick with jealousy that he was dreaming of another woman, she fought to hide the acid bite of envy that a woman could create such a powerful reaction within him.
The feeling grew and grew until she wanted to block her ears, when he finally started to speak.
“We met in grad school. You know she’s Moroccan. She grew up there. Her parents were very wealthy, very influential. She was… very beautiful.”
She winced, and his fingers convulsed in her hair. He pulled her head back and stared down at her in a narrow-eyed way that questioned whether she was okay.
When she nodded quickly, he exhaled and continued.
“I said that because her parents were very strict, and she told me it was partly because of her looks. They were right, I guess. She turned heads wherever she went.” He stopped and drank.
“Grad school was the first time she’d known any real independence. She was completely innocent and beyond na?ve. Hell, she could barely meet my eyes when we first met.”
Her heart squeezed tight. “Is that why you liked her, because she was submissive?”
His bitter laughter ricocheted around the room. “Trust me, she wasn’t submissive for very long. Once the culture shock wore off, she fully embraced her inner wild child, right along with the wild partying. Even changed her PhD to reflect her new outlook on life.”
She frowned. “What was she studying?”
His mouth twisted. “I don’t remember what her initial course was—a doctorate of some sort—but she changed it to sexual psychology.”
“Great. She started studying sex. Right after she met a sex god.” The bitter acid in her gut rose higher.
“Bethany.” His voice was a low warning.
She took a sip of wine and tried to keep from choking on her feelings.
He slid a hand around her nape and began massaging her knotted muscles. “Are you going to be okay with this?” he demanded.
Hell no . “Yes,” she muttered.
His eyes told her he wasn’t sure about her answer, but his hard kiss heated her from the inside, sparking an immediate yearning that had her clutching him when he pulled away.
“Let’s get this over with. Then you can have your way with me. Yes?”
The heat cooled. “Did it occur to you that I may not want to after you tell me how you once felt about another woman?”
“You’ll want to.”
She rolled her eyes at his sheer arrogance but decided not to challenge him. Challenging Zach always got her in trouble. The kind that usually included getting fucked to within an inch of her life. “So, she embraced her inner wild child. Then what?”
He closed his eyes, and his chest expanded on a ragged inhale. “Then she found drugs.”
Her breath caught.
“It was soft stuff at first. I didn’t think anything of it because I… I was using too.” His hand tightened on her nape, and his eyes searched hers frantically. Understanding. He wanted understanding.
Her hand slid around his waist. When she nodded, he exhaled.
“Even after she started the hardcore stuff, I never thought twice about it. I was already making serious money from my business ventures. I was young, a bit of an arrogant dick and independently wealthy enough to have a fucking posse. They kept me supplied with enough drugs to keep everyone happy, but right from the start, it was very much recreational for me. I could stop whenever I wanted, so I foolishly believed she could too.”
“But she couldn’t?”
He shook his head. “Her parents began to get suspicious when she stopped calling and refused to return home between semesters. When they threatened to cut her off and sent her brother after her—he’s everything you can possibly imagine: a tyrannical asshole of an older brother—she panicked, and for a while she stopped using. I checked her in to rehab to get her clean properly. She even went home for a couple of weeks. But within a week of returning for our last semester, she was using again.” He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the sofa. “I tried to get her clean again.”
“Because you felt responsible.”
Stormy grey eyes met her, and her heart squeezed at the raging torment in the bottomless depths.
“I was responsible. I introduced her to that world, to that life. Hell, I rolled up and put her first joint in her hand!”