A Marriage Fit for a Sinner Page 11

  That a part of him was looking forward to it made him shift in his seat.

  Since when had he craved verbal conflict with a woman?

  Never. And yet he couldn’t seem to help himself when it came to Eva.

  He was debating this turn of events as their plates were removed when a throat cleared next to them.

  The man was around his age, with floppy brown hair and a cocky smile that immediately rubbed Zaccheo the wrong way.

  ‘Can I join you for a few minutes?’ he asked.

  The no that growled up Zaccheo’s chest never made it. Eva was smiling—her first genuine smile since he’d walked in—and nodding. ‘Mr Preston, of course!’

  ‘Thanks. And call me Ziggy, please. Mr Preston is my headmaster grandfather.’

  ‘What can we do for you, Ziggy?’ Zaccheo raised an eyebrow at the furious look Eva shot him.

  The other man, who was staring at Eva with an avidness that made Zaccheo’s fist clench, finally looked in his direction. ‘I came to pay my compliments to your girlfriend. She has an amazing voice.’

  Eva blushed at his words.

  Zaccheo’s eyes narrowed when he noticed she wasn’t wearing her engagement ring. ‘Eva’s my fiancée, not my girlfriend. And I’m very much aware of her exceptional talent,’ he said, the harsh edge to his voice getting through to the man, who looked from him to Eva before his smile dimmed.

  ‘Ah, congratulations are in order, then?’

  ‘Grazie,’ Zaccheo replied. ‘Was there something else you wanted?’

  ‘Zaccheo!’ Eva glared harder, and turned to Ziggy. ‘Pardon my fiancé. He’s feeling a little testy because—’

  ‘I want her all to myself but find other things standing in my way. And because you’re not wearing your engagement ring, dolcezza.’

  She covered her bare fingers with her hand, as if that would remove the evidence of the absence of his ring. ‘Oh, I didn’t want to risk losing it. I’m still getting used to it.’ The glance she sent him held a mixture of defiance and entreaty.

  Ziggy cleared his throat again. ‘I don’t want to play the Do-you-know-who-I-am? card, but—’

  ‘Of course I know who you are,’ Eva replied with a charming laugh.

  Ziggy smiled and produced a business card. ‘In that case, would you like to come to my studio next week? See if we can make music together?’

  Eva’s pleased gasp further darkened Zaccheo’s mood. ‘Of course I can—’

  ‘Aren’t you forgetting something, luce mio?’ he asked in a quietly lethal tone.

  ‘What?’ she asked, so innocently he wanted to grab her from the chair, spread her across the table and make her see nothing, no one, but him. Make her recall that she had given her word to be his and only his.

  ‘You won’t be available next week.’ He didn’t care that he hadn’t yet apprised her of the details. He cared that she was smiling at another man as if he didn’t exist. ‘We’ll be on our honeymoon on my private island off the coast of Brazil where we’ll be staying for the next two weeks.’

  Her eyes rounded, but she recovered quickly and took the business card. ‘I’ll make time to see you before I go. Surely you don’t want to deny me this opportunity, darling?’ Her gaze swung to him, daring him to respond in the negative.

  Despite his irritation, Zaccheo curbed a smile. ‘Of course. Anything for you, dolcezza.’

  Ziggy beamed. ‘Great! I look forward to it.’

  The moment he was out of earshot, she turned to Zaccheo. ‘How dare you try and sabotage me like that?’

  ‘Watching you smile at another man like that fills me with insane jealousy. It also brings out the jerk in me. My apologies,’ he growled. Her mouth dropped open. ‘Close your mouth, Eva.’

  She shook her head as if reeling from a body blow.

  Welcome to my world.

  ‘Where’s your ring?’ He stared at her, his control on a knife-edge.

  Perhaps sensing the dangerously shifting currents, she pulled up the gold chain that hung between her pert, full breasts. His ring dangled from it.

  ‘Put it on. Now,’ he said, struggling to keep his voice even.

  Undoing the clasp, she took the ring off the chain and slid it back on her finger. ‘There. Can I return to work now or are you going to harangue me about something else?’

  He told himself he did it because he needed to put his rampaging emotions somewhere. That it was her fault for pushing him to his limit. But when he plucked her from her seat, placed her in his lap and kissed her insanely tempting mouth, Zaccheo knew it was because he couldn’t help himself. She got to him in a way no one else did.

  By the time he pulled away, they were both breathing hard. Her high colour filled him with immense satisfaction, helping him ignore his own hopeless loss of control.

  ‘Don’t take the ring off again, Eva. You underestimate the lengths I’m prepared to go to in making sure you stick to your word, but for your sake I hope you start taking me seriously.’

  * * *

  In contrast to the vividness of Zaccheo’s presence, the rest of the night passed in a dull blur after he left. By the time Eva collapsed into bed in the early hours, her head throbbed with the need to do something severely uncharacteristic. Like scream. Beat her fists against the nearest wall. Shout her anger and confusion to the black skies above.

  She did nothing of the sort. More than anything, she craved a little peace and quiet.

  After that kiss in the club, even more eyes had followed her wherever she went. Hushed whispers had trailed her to the bathroom. By the time her shift had ended three hours later, she’d been ready to walk out and never return.

  She wouldn’t, of course. Working at Siren gave her the free time to write her songs while earning enough to live on. Despite Zaccheo’s heavy-handedness, she could never see a time when she’d be dependent on anyone other than herself.

  ‘You underestimate the lengths I’m prepared to go to...’

  The forceful statement had lingered long after he’d left, anchored by the heavy presence of the prenuptial agreement in her handbag.

  He’d said he wouldn’t negotiate. Eva didn’t see that he had a choice in this matter. Refusing to marry him might well spell the end for her father, but withholding the truth and marrying him knowing she could never fulfil her part of the bargain would be much worse.

  Turning in bed, she punched her pillow, dreading the long, restless night ahead. Only to wake with sunshine streaming through the window and her clock announcing it was ten o’clock.

  Rushing out of bed, she showered quickly and entered the dining room just as Romeo was exiting, having finished his own breakfast. The table was set for one and Eva cursed herself for the strange dip in her belly that felt very much like disappointment.

  ‘Good morning. Shall I get the chef to make you a cooked breakfast?’ The man whose role she was beginning to suspect went deeper than a simple second-in-command asked.

  ‘Just some toast and tea, please, thank you.’

  He nodded and started to leave.

  ‘Is Zaccheo around or has he left for the office?’

  ‘Neither. He left this morning for Oman. An unexpected hiccup in the construction of his building there.’

  Eva was unprepared for the bereft feeling that swept through her. She should be celebrating her temporary reprieve. Finding a way to see if she could work around that impossible clause. ‘When will he be back?’

  ‘In a day or two. Latest by the end of the week to be ready in time for the wedding,’ Romeo said in that deep, modulated voice of his. ‘This is for you.’ He handed her a folded note and left.

  The bold scrawl was unmistakeably Zaccheo’s.

  Eva,

  Treat my absence as you wish, but never as an excuse to be complace
nt.

  My PA will be in touch with details of your wedding dress fitting this morning and your amended schedule for the week.

  You have my permission to miss me.

  Z

  Ugh! She grimaced at the arrogance oozing from the paper. Balling the note, she flung it across the table. Then quickly jumped up and retrieved it before Romeo returned. The last thing she wanted was for him to report her loss of temper to Zaccheo.

  Her traitorous body had a hard enough time controlling itself when Zaccheo was around. She didn’t want him to know he affected her just as badly when he was absent.

  By the time breakfast was delivered, she’d regained her composure. Which was just as well, because close on the chef’s heel was a tall, striking brunette dressed in a grey pencil skirt and matching jacket.

  ‘Good morning, my name is Anyetta, Mr Giordano’s PA. He said you were expecting me?’

  ‘I was expecting a phone call, not a personal visit.’

  Anyetta delivered a cool smile. ‘Mr Giordano wanted his wishes attended to personally.’

  Eva’s appetite fled. ‘I bet he did,’ she muttered.

  She poured herself a cup of tea as Anyetta proceeded to fill up her every spare hour between now and Saturday morning.

  Eva listened until her temper began to flare, then tuned out until she heard the word makeover. ‘I’ve already had one makeover. I don’t need another one.’

  Anyetta’s eyes drifted over Eva’s hair, which she admitted was a little wild since she hadn’t brushed it properly before she’d rushed out to speak to Zaccheo. ‘Not even for your wedding day?’

  Since there wasn’t likely to be a wedding day once she told Zaccheo she had no intention of signing the agreement, she replied, ‘It’ll be taken care of.’

  Anyetta ticked off a few more items, verified that Eva’s passport was up to date, then stood as the doorbell rang. ‘That’ll be Margaret with your wedding dress.’

  The feeling of being on a runaway train intensified as Eva trailed Anyetta out of the dining room. She drew to a stunned halt when she saw the middle-aged woman coming towards her with a single garment bag and a round veil and shoebox.

  ‘Please tell me you don’t have a team of assistants lurking outside ready to jump on me?’ she asked after Anyetta left.

  Margaret laughed. ‘It’s just me, Lady Pennington. Your fiancé was very specific about his wishes, and, meeting you now, I see why he chose this dress. He did say I was to work with you, of course. So if you don’t like it, we can explore other options.’

  Eva reminded herself that this situation hadn’t arisen out of a normal courtship, that Zaccheo choosing her wedding dress for her shouldn’t upset her so much. Besides, the likelihood of this farce ever seeing the light of day was very low so she was better off just going along with it.

  But despite telling herself not to care, Eva couldn’t suppress her anxiety and excitement.

  She gasped as the dress was revealed.

  The design itself was simple and clean, but utterly breathtaking. Eva stared at the fitted white satin gown overlaid with lace and beaded with countless tiny crystals. Delicate capped sleeves extended from the sweetheart neckline and the tiniest train flared out in a beautiful arc. At the back, more crystals had been embedded in mother-of-pearl buttons that went from nape to waist. Unable to resist, Eva reached out to touch the dress, then pulled herself back.

  There was no point falling in love with a dress she’d never wear. No point getting butterflies about a marriage that would never happen once she confessed her flaw to Zaccheo. Her hands fisted and she fought the desolation threatening to break free inside her.

  For six years, she’d successfully not dwelt on what she could never have—a husband who cared for her and a family of her own. She’d made music her life and had found fulfilment in it. She wasn’t about to let a heartbreakingly gorgeous dress dredge up agonies she’d sealed in a box marked strictly out of bounds.

  ‘Are you ready to try it on?’ Margaret asked.

  Eva swallowed. ‘Might as well.’

  If the other woman found her response curious, she didn’t let on. Eva avoided her gaze in the mirror as the dress was slipped over her shoulders and the delicate chiffon and lace veil was fitted into place. She mumbled her thanks as Margaret helped her into matching-coloured heels.

  ‘Oh, I’m pleased to see we don’t need to alter it in any way, Lady Pennington. It fits perfectly. Looks like your fiancé was very accurate with your measurements. You’d be surprised how many men get it wrong...’

  She kept her gaze down, frightened to look at herself, as Margaret tweaked and tugged until she was happy.

  Eva dared not look up in case she began to hope and wish. She murmured appropriate responses and turned this way and that when asked and breathed a sigh of relief when the ordeal was over. The moment Margaret zipped up the bag and left, Eva escaped to her suite. Putting her headphones on, she activated the music app on her tablet and proceeded to drown out her thoughts the best way she knew how.

  But this time no amount of doing what she loved best could obliterate the thoughts tumbling through her head.

  At seventeen when her periods had got heavier and more painful with each passing month, she’d attributed it to life’s natural cycle. But when stronger painkillers had barely alleviated the pain, she’d begun to suspect something major was wrong.

  Collapsing during a university lecture had finally prompted her to seek medical intervention.

  The doctor’s diagnosis had left her reeling.

  Even then, she’d convinced herself it wasn’t the end of the world, that compared to her mother’s fight against cancer, a fight she’d eventually lost a year later, Eva’s problem was inconsequential. Women dealt with challenging problems like hers every day. When the time came, the man she chose to spend the rest of her life with would understand and support her.

  Eva scoffed at her naiveté. Scott, the first man she’d dated in the last year of university, had visibly recoiled from her when she’d mentioned her condition. She’d been so shocked by his reaction, she’d avoided him for the rest of her time at uni.

  Burnt, she’d sworn off dating until she’d met George Tremayne, her fellow business intern during her brief stint at Penningtons. Flattered by his attentiveness, she’d let down her guard and gone on a few dates before he’d begun to pressure her to take things further. Her gentle rejection and confession of her condition had resulted in a scathing volley of insults, during which she’d found out exactly why her father had been pressing her to work at Penningtons after graduation.

  Oscar Pennington, already secure in his conscript of Sophie as his heir, was eager to offload his remaining daughter and had lined up a list of suitable men, George Tremayne, the son of a viscount, being on the top of that list. George’s near-identical reaction to Scott’s had hurt twice as much, and convinced Eva once and for all that her secret was best kept to herself.

  Finding out she was yet another means to an end for Zaccheo had rocked her to the core, but she’d taken consolation in the fact the secret she’d planned on revealing to him shortly after their engagement was safe.

  That secret was about to be ripped open.

  As she turned up the volume of her music Eva knew disclosing it to Zaccheo would be the most difficult thing she would ever do.

  CHAPTER TEN

  ZACCHEO SCROLLED THROUGH the missed calls from Eva on his phone as he was driven away from the private hangar. Romeo had relayed her increasingly frantic requests to reach him. Zaccheo had deliberately forbidden his number from being given to her until this morning, once he’d confirmed his return to London.

  His jaw flexed as he rolled tight shoulders. The number of fires he’d put out in Oman would’ve wiped out a lesser man. But Zaccheo’s name and ruthless nature weren
’t renowned for nothing, and although it’d taken three days to get the construction schedule back on track, his business partners were in no doubt that he would bring them to their knees if they strayed so much as one millimetre from the outcome he desired.

  It was the same warning he’d given Oscar Pennington when he’d called yesterday and attempted an ego-stroking exercise to get Zaccheo to relent on his threats. Zaccheo had coldly reminded him of the days he’d spent in prison and invited Pennington to ask for clemency when hell froze over.

  No doubt Eva’s eagerness to contact him was born of the same desire as her father’s. But unlike her father, the thought of speaking to Eva sent a pleasurable kick of anticipation through his blood, despite the fact that with time and distance he’d looked back on their conversations since his release with something close to dismay.

  Had he really revealed all those things about his time in prison and his childhood to her?

  What was even more puzzling was her reaction. She hadn’t looked down her nose at him in those moments. Had in fact exhibited nothing but empathy and compassion. Pushing the bewildering thought away, he dialled her number, gratified when she picked up on the first ring.

  ‘Ciao, Eva. I understand you’re experiencing pre-wedding jitters.’

  ‘You understand wrong. This wedding isn’t going to happen. Not once you hear what I have to say.’

  His tension increased until the knots in his shoulders felt like immoveable rocks. He breathed through the red haze blurring his vision. ‘I take it you didn’t miss me, then?’ he taunted.

  She made a sound, a cross between a huff and a sigh. ‘We really need to talk, Zaccheo.’

  ‘Nothing you say will alter my intention to make you mine tomorrow,’ he warned.

  She hesitated. Then, ‘Zaccheo, it’s important. I won’t take up too much of your time. But I need to speak to you.’

  He rested his head against the seat. ‘You have less than twenty-four hours left as a single woman. I won’t permit anything like male strippers anywhere near you, of course, but I won’t be a total bore and deny you a hen party if you wish—’