The Flaw In His Red-Hot Revenge by Abby Green

CHAPTER SIX

ZACHBLINKED. LESSthan twenty-four hours later, Ashling stood in the doorway to his office wearing a blue silk sleeveless jumpsuit. A yellow belt cinched her waist and a yellow neckerchief adorned her throat. She wore yellow wedge sandals. A jaunty cross-over pink bag rested at her hip.

She looked bright and fresh. And totally out of place. And yet something perverse inside him made him resist his reflex to instruct HR to discreetly let her know there was a dress code. After all, this was just a temporary arrangement.

You could have let her go.

He should have let her go.

Especially after what had happened the night before last.

Especially because the lust she’d awakened inside him was snapping back to life now.

He ignored his libido and stood up. ‘Come in, Ashling.’

She looked nervous and that caught at him. He told himself he was being ridiculous. She was street-smart and savvy.

But she must have seen his look and she said, a little defensively, ‘I’m not used to this kind of environment.’

‘And you’re really not that interested, are you?’ Zach noted dryly.

She flushed. Looked behind him. ‘The views are amazing.’

Zach rested back on the side of his desk. ‘So is the wealth I generate for my clients.’

‘You hardly need my approval for that.’

Zach cocked his head. ‘You really expect me to believe that wealth, success, means nothing to you?’

‘Oh, it means everything—I just measure wealth and success differently.’

‘Says the woman who loves an Aston Martin, one of the most expensive cars in the world.’

She flushed again. It was fascinating to watch her react to things.

‘I can appreciate a beautiful car without wanting to acquire it as a trophy.’

Zach made a wincing face. ‘Ouch.’

Now she looked contrite. ‘I’m sorry, that wasn’t fair—especially after you let me drive yours.’

Zach stood up, realising he was indulging in exactly the kind of chatter he expressly forbade among his employees. ‘I’ll have HR send someone up to show you how to navigate the computer system. Essentially, though, your job is just about running interference. They’ll explain everything. You can use the desk in the office next door.’

Ashling took a deep breath after she had put a closed door between her and Zach. She’d only realised when she’d got to his office that morning and seen him in a dark grey three-piece suit that everyone in the building was similarly attired in monochrome colours. Even the decor was muted. No doubt to minimise distraction.

No wonder people had given her second and third glances on her way up here. A familiar sensation washed over her—she didn’t belong here. But she pushed it aside. She hadn’t asked to be here after all. She’d been instructed to be here.

It was as if the universe had conspired with Zach to leave her no option but to do his bidding. Since she’d seen him last Mrs Whyte had met and approved someone from an agency who would help her until such time that she decided she didn’t need it any longer. And Ashling had asked a friend to cover her yoga classes, half hoping there might be a problem. But he’d been delighted at the prospect of extra cash.

Similarly, a friend at the café had jumped at the chance of more shifts because she was saving for her wedding.

So now she was here, her heart still palpitating in her chest.

She had the strong impression that, in spite of Zach’s justification for asking her to work for him, he was just doing it for his own amusement...stringing her torture out for a bit longer. He probably had a personal bet on how long she would last, so she resolved right then to do everything in her power to confound his expectations.

Except one thing.

She refused to dress to fit in with the crowd.

Two days later, Ashling was making coffee for Zach, expecting his arrival at any moment. She was not a morning person at the best of times, and the effort it had taken for the past two days to be on time—early, in fact—and bright-eyed and bushy-tailed was not inconsequential. But it had been worth it for the look of sheer surprise on Zach’s face the first morning and then, yesterday, his look of disbelief.

The fact that he’d evidently expected her to bail within twenty-four hours only spurred her on. With a little judicious borrowing from Cassie’s wardrobe Ashling had managed to pull together something resembling a corporate uniform each day. Albeit her kind of corporate uniform...about as far from monochrome as one could get.

She heard a noise in the outer office and her heart thumped. Zach seemed to have had no problem moving on from the other night—as he’d called it, a mistake—but for her it wasn’t so easy. The tension she felt in his presence coiled tight inside her now, as she anticipated seeing him.

He appeared in the doorway to little kitchen that led into a private dressing room and bathroom. Ashling handed the cup of coffee over carefully, avoiding looking directly at his face. She didn’t want to see the cool appraisal he subjected her to every morning.

But then he said, ‘Pink today?’

She forced herself to meet his eyes. ‘Is that a problem?’

He took a sip of coffee as that dark gaze drifted down from the pussycat bow at her throat—the pink silky shirt had been an impulse buy on her way home the previous day—to the wide-legged three-quarter-length trousers dotted with a variety of colourful flowers and the blue suede high heels. She had to admit that, even for her, there was a lot going on. But in her defence, bleary-eyed that morning, she’d thought the shoes were black.

He raised his gaze again. By now Ashling’s pulse was hectic.

He just said, ‘Not a problem at all.’

He was turning away, and then he stopped, turned back. ‘By the way, I should have mentioned it before, but we have to go to a function this evening. A garden party.’

‘I didn’t bring anything to change into.’

Zach gestured with his free hand towards the dressing room. ‘Cassie usually leaves a selection of outfits here in case of last-minute events. I’m sure you’ll find something. If not, just order in.’

Order in. Like a Chinese takeaway.

Ashling felt slightly hysterical at the thought of appearing in public officially as Zach’s assistant. What if someone spoke to her and expected her to say something knowledgeable? In Paris she’d been winging it. And that had been a punishment for her transgression. This was... She wasn’t even sure what this was. Only that Zach wasn’t done with punishing her and that he stirred up so many things inside her that even if he told her she could walk away right now she wasn’t sure she’d want to.

At that moment he appeared in the doorway again, without his coffee. He was holding up an object shaped like an egg. ‘What is this?’

‘Oh, that’s just an aromatherapy oil diffuser.’ She gestured to the matching device on her desk. ‘Mine is a mixture of sage and peppermint. Sage to clear the energy and peppermint to keep things fresh. Raise the vibration.’

He arched a brow. ‘“Raise the vibration”? “Clear the energy”?’

She nodded. ‘It’s quite dense in here—but no wonder, considering the stress of your employees.’

‘They’re stressed?’

She made a face. ‘Not in a bad way...just working hard to keep up with your...er...pace. Yours is bergamot, to stay focused and grounded...’ Ashling trailed off, sensing she’d lost him as soon as she’d said energy.

He just looked at the diffuser in his hand and then walked back into his office with a bemused expression on his face.

Much later that day, after everyone else had left Temple Corp, Zach was escorting Ashling out of the building, across the carefully landscaped concourse, to where his chauffeur-driven car was waiting.

Ashling was self-conscious in the only suitable dress of Cassie’s that she’d been able to find in the dressing room. A deep royal blue colour, it matched her shoes. It was a very simple silk shift dress, with thin straps. It reached to the knee. Or just below, in Ashling’s case, as she was shorter than Cassie.

Zach was dressed in a tuxedo, and when Ashling had seen him she’d said in dismay, ‘I should be wearing a full-length gown... But all of Cassie’s are too long on me.’

He’d looked her over. ‘You’ll be fine—you’ll be there as my guest.’

In other words, Ashling had surmised on their short journey down to ground level, it would be obvious that she wasn’t Zach’s date. It made her wonder if he’d prefer to be taking a woman who was a date. Who he wouldn’t have to stop kissing because there was just too much baggage between them...

From what Cassie had told her over the years, Zach was discreet to the point of obsession when it came to his personal life. Rarely did any picture surface online of him with a woman, and if it did she was always a perfect foil. Tall, sleek, beautiful... There were no kiss-and-tells.

Ashling’s conscience pricked. Had what she’d done to him ended up in the papers? She didn’t even know because she’d felt so humiliated and guilty. She hadn’t looked.

In the back of the car now, heading for central London, Ashling bit her lip, the urge to know trembling on her tongue. But before she could let it out, Zach spoke.

‘You’ve done well these past few days.’

Ashling looked at him, surprised. She knew after only a few days of observing him that he didn’t hand out platitudes or compliments. ‘Thank you.’

‘You’re not as ditsy or flaky as Cassie has suggested over the years. Or as you yourself would have people believe, I think.’

Surprise rendered Ashling speechless. No one had ever really taken the time to look past the persona she projected, of a free spirit pinballing her way through life. She knew she used it as a device to protect herself from deeper scrutiny—something her mother had pointed out when she’d been dissecting everyone around her during her Psychotherapy master’s degree. The fact that it appeared as if this man—of all people—could see right through her was very exposing.

Telling herself she was silly to feel exposed—after all, Zach wasn’t interested in who she really was—she said lightly, ‘Who knew that a career spanning everything from waiting tables to teaching yoga would prepare me for one day working for you?’

Zach frowned. ‘You didn’t go to university?’

Ashling shook her head and forced down the ingrained reflex of feeling inadequate. It had taken her a long time not to feel insecure about her lack of higher education. Even though Cassie had often said to her, ‘Ash, I work with people who have degrees coming out their eyeballs and you’re smarter than them.’

She said, ‘I’m a little dyslexic, so I was never very academic. I prefer to learn on the job.’

Something else that distanced her from her father, who couldn’t be more different, having come from a solidly middle-class academic background.

Zach looked at her for a long moment and she felt like squirming under that dark unreadable gaze. She said, ‘I presume you were top of your class?’

His expression was shuttered. ‘Something like that.’

Ashling was intrigued. She wanted to know more. She had to concede that this man she’d dismissed for years as arrogant and snobbish was a lot more complex than she’d expected.

And that was her cue to divert the conversation away from personal topics. ‘What do you expect me to do at the event?’ she asked.

He looked at her. ‘Just stay by my side and be a second set of eyes and ears.’

He turned away again, and Ashling curbed the urge to salute and say, Aye-aye, sir.

The gardens attached to the American Ambassador’s residence were beautiful and pristinely ornate. Personally, Ashling preferred something a little wilder. Black-clothed staff moved gracefully between the guests, handing out delicious canapés and vintage champagne. Classical music drifted from a gazebo where a small band were playing.

The man Zach had been talking to walked away and Zach turned to Ashling. ‘What did you make of him?’

Thankfully, she’d studied the other man, while also being preoccupied by her surroundings. And Zach. A skill she obviously needed.

‘Too desperate for your attention. Fake laugh. Untrustworthy.’

She spoke automatically, without thinking, and nearly choked on her wine when Zach threw back his head and laughed out loud. People turned to look, and a very dangerous warmth bloomed in Ashling’s chest.

Zach looked down at her, a smile transforming his face from merely gorgeous to savagely beautiful. He looked younger. She couldn’t breathe.

‘That’s certainly one way of putting it—and very accurate,’ he said.

Damn him. He was totally irresistible when his stern facade cracked a little. And when she was the cause.

He gestured for her to follow him further into the crowd. Ashling picked her way carefully behind him in her heels, acutely conscious of the fact that most of the other women were wearing long dresses. Not that she needed more help to feel out of place in a situation like this.

A charity auction was taking place in another part of the garden, with cheers going up every now and then as someone bid successfully on something spectacular.

When there was a brief lull in the steady stream of gushing people seeking an audience with Zach, Ashling said, ‘You’re not bidding on any of the lots?’

He looked at her. ‘I’ve already given a healthy donation. I don’t need to make a public spectacle of myself.’

Ashling’s conscience pricked. As if she needed a reminder... Forgetting all about keeping things impersonal, she blurted out, ‘Was it very bad? After that night? I mean, I know you told me you lost a deal, and the woman you were with dumped you...’

He arched a brow. ‘That wasn’t bad enough?’

Ashling regretted her runaway mouth now. But she’d started... ‘Did it get into the papers?’

Zach sighed. ‘Yes—but thankfully only the gossip section of a couple of rags. It didn’t last beyond a couple of weeks. It was the rumours and word of mouth among my peers that did the most damage. People weren’t sure if they could trust me. Which was the intention of the person who initiated the whole thing—to destabilise my success.’

‘You know who it was?’

‘I do.’

It was said with such finality that Ashling didn’t dare probe further. The smile was long gone. He was back to being stern.

Someone else approached them and Ashling cursed inwardly. She wanted to ask why people hadn’t trusted him when he came from their world. But he looked about as likely to tell her that as he was to tell her that all was forgiven and he trusted her implicitly.

She kicked herself for having mentioned anything. This...this truce, or whatever it was between them, wouldn’t last long if she kept bringing up the past.

Zach was aware of Ashling beside him, swaying to the music. When he glanced at her she had a dreamy look on her face, which completely threw him off the thread of the very boring conversation going on around him.

Her question about what had happened four years ago had brought back unwelcome reminders of a sense of betrayal that still had the power to sting.

Not hurt.

He had to concede now that no one could sustain this level of acting in order to convince him that she really wasn’t interested in this world. She wasn’t trying to talk to the A-list celebrities. She wasn’t goggle-eyed at the fact that a very recent and popular ex-American President was just yards away, holding court with a rapt crowd.

The dreamy look on her face made him feel something completely alien. Jealous. He found himself asking something he’d never have asked another woman, ‘What are you thinking about?’

The dreamy look disappeared, to be replaced with a sheepish one. ‘Sorry—was I meant to be listening in to your conversation? When I heard you talking about stocks and shares I zoned out.’

Zach shook his head. ‘No, it’s fine.’

Now she looked embarrassed. ‘It’s this song...it’s one of my favourites.’

Zach hadn’t even noticed it. But he heard it now. Slow and jazzy. He could imagine Ashling dancing to it, laughing up at someone. A perverse impulse gripped him and he grabbed her hand, tugging her towards the dance floor set up under a canopy of trees full of twinkling lights. He didn’t notice them. All he noticed was how small Ashling’s hand felt in his. And how he wanted to snarl at anyone who looked at her.

Usually it gave Zach a kind of detached pleasure to know he was with a woman other men coveted. As if it was confirmation that he was one of them. But not this time.

Ashling hissed at him. ‘What are you doing?’

Zach stepped onto the dance floor and pulled Ashling into his arms. She was so much smaller than him, but she fitted in a way that reminded him all too vividly of how she’d felt in his arms the other night. His blood sizzled.

She was looking up at him. He raised a brow.

She said, ‘I didn’t have you down as a dancer.’

He wasn’t. Not naturally. But in her quest to furnish him with all the skills he’d need to navigate the upper echelons of society his mother had ensured he’d taken lessons long ago. Not that he needed a lesson to hold this woman close and move around the floor with her. She was as light as a feather. But supple. Strong.

‘You think I’m dull? Boring?’

Pink tinged Ashling’s cheeks. ‘Not dull. Or boring. Just...serious.’

A memory came back into Zach’s head. A teacher. One of the nice ones. She’d stopped him one day after class and said, ‘You don’t have to take everything so seriously, Zach. The world won’t fall in if you have some fun.’

But he’d never had the freedom that others had to have fun. To fail.

He shoved aside the memories. ‘What do you do to have fun?’ he asked her.

Ashling bit her lip and Zach’s body tightened with need. He gritted his jaw to curb his response. Next to impossible.

‘I read,’ Ashling said, ‘but quite slowly because of my dyslexia. I like cooking... I practise yoga. I love going out and dancing to loud music—the louder the better. Wild swimming...’

‘Wild swimming?’

She wrinkled her nose. ‘A fancy way of saying swimming outside. Lakes, rivers, the sea... My favourite is to swim in the Atlantic, off the west coast of Ireland. It’s wild and magical.’

How was it that Zach, who literally had everything he could possibly want, was feeling jealous again—this time for a life he’d never even imagined existed?

Ashling felt exposed. And acutely aware of how her body was responding to Zach’s. She realised she’d not listed one sophisticated pursuit. She sounded like a teenager.

Desperately wanting to deflect Zach’s attention from her, she asked abruptly, ‘What do you do to relax?’

An image popped into her head of Zach in a heaving nightclub, his eyes focused on her as the music pounded like waves around them. He’d be in a T-shirt and worn jeans...the material clinging to his taut muscles. His hands would reach for her, lifting her so that she could wrap her legs around his waist, and he’d be kissing her so deeply that she’d feel it in the centre of her body—

Zach’s voice broke through the fever haze in Ashling’s mind. ‘I go to the gym. I run. I like good whisky. I have a motorbike...but I can’t remember the last time I took it out.’

Now the image of him in worn jeans in a nightclub was replaced by an image of Zach on a motorbike, dressed in worn leathers...a white T-shirt. Stubble on his chin. That brooding look on his face.

Ashling swallowed. ‘Maybe you should take it out soon.’

He looked at her, and for a second she thought she saw something wistful in his expression before it disappeared. ‘Maybe I will.’

Terrified that Zach would see how much he was affecting her, Ashling muttered something about the bathroom and pulled free of his embrace to leave the dance floor, her limbs shaky with need.

When she returned she expected Zach to be surrounded again, but he stood a little way off to the side of the crowd. Ashling’s heart squeezed. He looked very...alone.

And then she castigated herself for being so soft. Zach was not someone who invited sympathy. If he was alone it was because he chose to be—because he was brilliant and ruthless and intolerant of anyone who couldn’t keep up with him. And yet she knew it wasn’t that simple...

He was far too enigmatic. That was the problem.

As if hearing her thoughts, he turned around in that moment. She picked her way carefully over to him. High heels and grass didn’t really mix. When she was about a foot away her heel caught and she pitched forward with a little cry. Landing straight into Zach’s arms.

A spark of electricity zinged between them. Ashling’s breath stopped. For an infinitesimal moment the possibility that Zach would pull her closer, lower his head, seemed to hang in the air... But even as Ashling made a telling movement towards him he was pushing her back, steadying her.

Her face burned and she was glad they were somewhat in the shadows, which were disguising her humiliation. There might be an attraction between them, but it wasn’t so overpowering that Zach couldn’t resist it. And it would only be because she was a novelty to someone who came from this world.

Exactly as her mother had been to her father. Until he’d realised that her zest for life and her hippyish tendencies wouldn’t fit into his world.

Ashling felt ridiculously vulnerable. She’d talked too much about herself this evening. She was out of her depth in this place where women’s faces didn’t emote and the men all had cynical sharp edges like Zach.

She avoided his eye, not wanting him to see the conflicting emotions she was feeling right now.

And then he said, ‘Ready to go?’

She nodded, feeling a mixture of relief and disappointment.

When they were in the back of Zach’s car, Ashling said, ‘Your driver can drop me off at the nearest tube.’

‘No way. He’s driving you home.’

‘But I—’

‘No arguments. I’d do the same for Cassie.’

That stopped Ashling protesting further. She knew very well that Zach’s driver often dropped Cassie home after-hours.

She was glad her friend wasn’t around at the moment. The last thing she needed was to have her be witness to the ridiculous crush she’d developed on her boss. Especially when he was a man she’d judged so vociferously in the past, shamefully driven by her guilt about what she’d done when she’d first met him.

Just as they were turning into his street, Zach said, ‘I have to go to Madrid tomorrow for twenty-four hours. I don’t need you to come with me.’

For a second all Ashling was aware of was a rushing sound in her head and the plummeting of her stomach. He was letting her go. He’d seen how much she wanted him and it had embarrassed him. He hadn’t really needed her to work for him except to humiliate her, and now her humiliation was complete—

‘...hold the fort at the office...call me if there’s anything urgent. And don’t forget to pack a bag, Gerard will pick us up from the office at lunchtime on Thursday.’

Zach had been speaking all the time, but she hadn’t heard him. The car had stopped now. He was looking at her.

‘What did you say?’ she asked.

‘The event at my house in Somerset at the weekend. We leave on Thursday. We’ll be back on Saturday.’

Ashling had forgotten. The event at which Georgios Stephanides and his wife were to be the guests of honour. The top secret deal. He wasn’t letting her go. He was just going to Madrid.

‘I... Of course...okay. I’ll be ready.’

Zach got out of the car and walked up the steps. Ashling saw the door open. He disappeared. The car moved off again.

She tried to deny it, but she couldn’t. The relief coursing through her blood was humiliatingly heady.