No.
I intend to burn right along with her in the smoldering passion of our creation, and her beautiful body will come alive under my hands.
A smart man never gives up on a woman he desires obsessively.
And no one can call me stupid, can they?
Phoenix
“Unbelievable,” I mutter on my way toward the mansion. My body still trembles from the earlier scene, craving to indulge in Zachary one more time, while my mind screams at me for how insane and dangerous this idea is.
Maybe years of abstinence transformed me into someone who wants sex, and it doesn’t matter with who? Any available, willing partner would do.
Yeah, you keep telling yourself that. Any excuse sounds good under the current circumstances.
I groan in frustration, trying to think about anything else as long as it doesn’t involve a handsome, green-eyed devil who must’ve cast a spell on me to obsesses over him this much.
Why does he push for it anyway? He must not lack female companionship, but that thought alone makes my hands fist, as the idiotic anger rushes over me. The idea of him with someone else while I’m still living under his roof is almost unbearable.
Oh my God, call the freaking shrinks, because I have officially lost my mind.
“I share your sentiments, darling. If it wasn’t for your denial, we’d now be kissing in the car, and I could have pulled it behind the house where we could fuck. Have you ever fucked in a car?” he asks and chuckles when I send daggers his way with my stare. He taps me on the nose. “Now we’re both unsatisfied.” He clacks with his tongue. “I have good news for you.” He motions with his hand up and down his torso. “This body is ready whenever you are.” He leans closer, whispering in my ear, “Just ask or beg for it. I don’t care which one.”
“In your dreams, King,” I reply, nudging him with my elbow so he’ll step back and finally enter the house, the door slamming into the wall—that’s how hard I push it.
Zachary sighs dramatically. “No need to take your anger out on the house, love.” He winks. “Take it out on me.”
“I swear to God, Zachary, if you don’t stop, I will—” I don’t get the chance to finish my sentence, because tiny feet pitter-patter on the floor as Emmaline rushes toward us down the stairs, her dark hair falling loose and flying in different directions. This time, she’s wearing a white T-shirt and pink leggings.
Her mouth spreads in the brightest smile I’ve ever seen as her eyes fill with joy, and she screams, “Daddy! Daddy is home!” And she bounces on him from the last step, and since Zachary dashed toward her the minute he spotted her, she ends up in his arms. He raises her high, throwing her in the air and catching her swiftly while she giggles happily. “Daddy!” she squeals, wrapping her arms around his neck and squeezing the life out of him.
Or at least trying to as Zachary rocks her in his arms, his hold on her strong too, and then Emmaline leans back, palming his head. “I missed you, Daddy. I don’t like your work trips. At all,” she says before circling her arms around him again, sighing heavily while she rests her chin on his shoulder.
Zachary kisses the side of her head, rubbing his hand up and down her back, trying to soothe her distress. “I missed you too, baby girl.”
“You didn’t read me a story yesterday, Daddy,” she exclaims with slight annoyance in her voice but then sighs again. “I forgive you. Patience says you were busy.”
“I was. I’m going to read you a story today though. How does that sound?”
She quickly leans back again and raises her hands, shouting, “Woohoo!” And then she asks, twirling her dark locks on her finger, “Did you bring me a present?”
Zachary lifts his brow. “Present? What present?”
She gasps, claps both hands together, her eyes growing huge on her face as they widen in shock. “No presents?”
I expect her to burst into tears or wobble her lip to at least try to soften up her dad or make him feel guilty, but she does none of those things. Instead, she taps her index finger on her chin, musing over his words, and then asks, “Then does this mean you owe me, Daddy?”
Zachary grins, amusement flashing in his eyes as he replies, “I think so.”
Yeah, she is his daughter; no doubts there. Business shark in the making, not missing any opportunities.
She claps a few times before announcing, “Then will you play with me? I’m having a tea party upstairs, and you are honor invited.” Her brows furrow. “It sounds funny.” She laughs and then drops her voice to a hush, glancing upstairs as if checking no one can hear her. “Patience said it.” She giggles but covers her mouth with her palm, clearly not wanting Patience to know how funny she finds it.
Zachary hooks the hair from her face behind her ear and corrects her, “Honorary guest.”
“Whatever. Let’s go upstairs!” She points there. “My tea is getting cold, Daddy.”
Watching them now, my heart pangs painfully by how gently he holds her and how much trust she has, how secure she looks in his arms. It’s clear he loves his daughter, and she gives the affection right back to him.
The ruthless man ready to succumb to anything as long as it serves his purpose is not present here; instead, she gets the gentle Zachary I didn’t even know existed.
Was this the side of him that made Angelica fall in love with him? Was this the man he was before the unsub happened in both our lives?
Is this the true Zachary who hides behind the exterior of the businessman ruling an empire, and the one I got is just the product of a broken heart?
Emmaline’s soft voice snaps my attention to the present, and she cocks her head to the side. “Will you come with us? I have one more place left. Only one.” She sticks up her finger, and he throws me a questioning look.
Everything in me screams to refuse and hide inside my room, not wanting to see this father-daughter relationship that is like an open wound for my pain and makes me dwell on what ifs.
Or other things.
But how can I say no to this pretty girl who is pure joy, spoiling her happiness right now with my bitterness?
So, mustering up a smile for her sake, I nod, and she cries out, “Great! Let’s go, Daddy.” And we stroll to her room with Emmaline telling Zachary all about her day, which mostly consists of her ballet stories.
“I learned how to lift my foot this high.” She places her hand on her shoulder level.
“That’s great, munchkin. Just don’t overdo it.” Protectiveness rings in his tone, and we finally come to her room, the double doors white with round knobs.
Emmaline wiggles in his arms, and he puts her down. She hurls the double doors open, and I blink at the sheer beauty presented before me.
The huge space spreads horizontally in an oval shape, covered in white carpet that is soundless under her feet as she runs inside, flipping her hair back.
It’s separated into two areas, the sleeping one has a bed with a canopy over it. Several pillows are scattered on it, along with a lot of fluffy toys, and there is a nightstand with a globe-shaped lamp that probably casts a soft blue light at night as she goes to sleep.
The dresser, located in the right corner, has some hairpins on it, along with photos of ballerinas, and a small, throne-like chair sits in front of it.