Her mouth had fallen open slightly when he leaned back to gage her response. He kissed the tip of her nose and smiled down at her. “Well, say something. I know this seems rather sudden, but it feels right.”

And as if coming from a great distance he heard her say, “After we had a one night stand and you broke your promise to me, I put you in my book—as the villain, Dimitri.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

“You must be joking.” Christian hadn’t expected her to say words back, but this was the last thing he’d ever expected to come out of her mouth.

“No,” she whispered, anguish in her eyes. “I’m serious.”

The deep seated insecurity he’d always been able to keep buried clawed to the surface like a vampire escaping its human grave. “I see.” But he didn’t. He couldn’t comprehend what she’d said, much less what she had done. He had to get out of here, away from her.

Pushing away from her, he strode to the door. Every step serving to remind him of what he was to her. The bloody villain of her novels. No wonder she wanted him to play Dimitri in the movie. Martha said Zoe had requested him. How ironic to play a character reviled by many and created by the woman he’d fallen deeply in love with.

“Why are you walking away from me?” Zoe asked, her feet smacking against the tile. “Please, Christian, let me explain.”

“Explain what? You’ve said enough. Hell, you’re probably still writing about me, and my time here. Who the hell knows what kind of inspiration you’ve found.” He stopped, turning quickly and narrowly avoided colliding with her. He clenched his hands into fists. “You are, aren’t you?”

She nodded slowly. “You can read it if you want.”

“I don’t want to read it,” he shouted. “I want you to stop writing.”

“Okay.”

“You’re willing to give up something you obviously love for me?”

“You didn’t ask me that.”

“Fine. If you give up your writing, I’ll forgive you.” He clenched his teeth. “It’s only fair for you to be a woman of action.”

The look on her face confirmed his fears: he wasn’t worth it.

He rolled his shoulders and tilted his head from side to side, pain coating his insides. “Forget I asked. Look, I’ve a plane to catch, a documentary to film about a war torn country and a tremendous amount of friends to reacquaint myself with.”

“And after, you’ll come home to me?”

“To you, the woman who’s been exacting her revenge for years, without my consent or knowledge.”

“I’m sorry.” She placed her hand on his arm, but he shook it off. “I was hurt and angry and-and it just happened. No one knows but me.”

He threw his hands in the air. “How do I know that’s not a lie?”

Her cheeks flushed and her eyes shifted away. “My family figured it out, too, but not until after we got married.”

“Fantastic. How long do you think it will take the press to figure it out—another week?”

“I can’t believe you’re being like this. I forgave you.”

“Not without making me pay for years first.” It dawned on him in that moment that he was the man she’d told him about. He had hated that man, had wanted to hunt him down and slowly cut his testicles from his body. The man he’d offered to hold down so she could stab him through his heart. Funny how she carved up his heart without a single weapon.

“I didn’t expect you to remember me.” Her gaze skittered away. “The night we slept together, I looked different.”

“Different how?”

She tugged on a thick lock of hair. “This was red and I wore brown contacts.” His world closed in on him as she continued, “We both had on masks and I told you my name was—”

“Amber,” he finished for her. Holy mother of God, she was the woman he’d dreamed about, obsessed over and had waited on for hours to show up the next day.

Her jaw dropped, eyes round as she met his gaze. “You remember me?”

Instead of admitting the obvious, he looked down his nose at her. “I haven’t shagged that many redheads, so the lot of you tend not to blend like the rest.”

“At least tell me why you didn’t keep your promise.”

He had kept his promise to her. He’d waited and waited, until the waiters pitied him and Jaylen had saved him from embarrassment.

“Please.”

She sounded so distraught, so sincere in her pain that he wanted to tell her the truth of that day. But he didn’t trust her or himself. “Because I’m Ian Romanov and that’s what I do. Deal with it.”

“Why are being so cruel?” She dropped her head into her hands, her words muffled by them. “I thought you’d changed. You said you loved me.”

He lifted her chin. Her pretty eyes were filled with unshed tears and her mouth trembled. The sight tore at his heart and he leaned in, his lips brushing hers. He wanted to comfort her. God, he was so screwed up in the head when it came to Zoe…Amber. Whatever the hell she called herself.

Her mouth opened under his, and he took full advantage, deepening the kiss and slipping a hand inside her robe. He fitted it under her bare thigh, lifting it up and around his hip. Her fingertips clutched at his shoulders.

“I love you, Christian,” she murmured against his lips. “Please, let’s try to work this out.”

Jesus, she was good. A damned good liar. “You’d let me take you to bed right now, wouldn’t you?” Her head shook from side to side, but he pulled her closer, letting her feel how hard she’d made him with one kiss. “Tell me the truth, Zoe. I deserve it.”

“Yes.”

A victorious smile covered his face as he released her and stepped back. “Sorry, I’d rather not have a repeat of last night. In fact I’d rather forget it happened at all.” She flinched as if he had struck her. “However, you have my eternal gratefulness for the brilliant PR move. Me, married to a nobody like you. Only in Vegas.” God, he could be a cruel bastard. Something to thank his father for, no doubt.

“You’re exactly the way I’ve written you: a womanizing asshole who cares about no one but himself.” Color returned to her cheeks, her eyes flashing. “It isn’t a big stretch of the imagination to figure out why the only time you’ve been recognized for your acting is when you’re playing yourself.” She would bring up the one and only time he’d won an Oscar for Best Supporting Actor—playing the role of psychopath.

He turned on his heel, bumping into Sasha on the way out.

“I wished to God I stabbed you in your heart, Ian Romanov—if you actually had one!”

The door slammed behind him.

He spun around, grabbing the doorknob. “I don’t have one?” He tried turning it, but it wouldn’t give. She’d locked it against him. Pounding on the door, he said, “Unlock the door.”

Sasha grabbed his arm, pulling him away. You’ll do something that even the Romanov name won’t be able to get you out of. More importantly, it would be something you’d live to regret.”

Christian shook away the rage. This wasn’t him. He’d never hurt a woman in his life and he had no intention of hurting Zoe. At least not physically. He was wounded. Defeated.

“I’m leaving,” he said, jerking away and grabbing his retro aviators on the way out. He stopped and leveled Sasha with a look. “Get my rings back.”

Instead of a snarky comment or even a glib reply, Sasha looked uneasy. “Why don’t you take some time to cool down?”

The bedroom door opened.

His wife marched right up to him, her head held high. “Hold out your hand.”

He refused, crossing his arms over his chest.

A hardness he’d never seen covered her face. She deposited the rings in the cradle his arms made. “I don’t want you accusing me of stealing your things.” Turning to Sasha, she said, “You’re my witness.”

“I’ll email you the annulment papers,” Christian said stiffly.

“Good.”

She spun on her heel, smacking into the table in front of her. Pausing to rub her hip, her profile revealed her wince of pain. However, she didn’t say a word while hobbling away.

He clenched his teeth together, afraid he’d call out to her. It wouldn’t be the first time she walked out of his life.

But for damn sure it would be the last.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Tears ran down Zoe’s face as her mother drove her home. She thought she would have been all dried out by now. Then again, Leah Ambrose had been known to make grown men cry.

“I wasn’t trying to hurt your feelings, but no man is worth messing make up—except your daddy. Well, if you had any on. How many times have I told you to always put your face on before you go out?” her mother said, glancing at her.

“A million,” Zoe sniffed, wiping at her nose with the lace handkerchief her mother had given her. Leah had handed it to her as soon as Zoe had gotten in the car. She didn’t know if her mother was being spiteful or insightful. Most likely a combination of the two.

“No need to be sassy. I didn’t run off and marry the first fool to have me.”

“I didn’t run anywhere. I was on a business trip.” Zoe clenched her teeth.

“Martha had getting married in a heathen ceremony by an Elvis impersonator on your itinerary?”

“Elvis was not the preacher,” Zoe reminded her, but it was futile.

Leah waved a manicured hand in the air. “Sugar, I don’t care if Rick Warren married you in Sin City. It was tacky and extremely rude of you.”

Zoe scrunched her nose. “You thought getting married to Gabriel at the Aviation Club was high society?”

“Harrison Collins and Noah Sawyer belong to that club.”

As if a bank president and a developer as members made that place so much better. “It’s for remote controlled airplanes, momma.”

“I know you’re not getting above your raisin’,” Leah said, her mouth flattening. She pulled the car into her gravel driveway and stopped.

Zoe lifted her chin and looked her in the eye, trying to remember that her mother really did love her. “Thank you for the ride.”

“You’re welcome.” Her mother opened the door. “I’ll help you with your luggage.”

“It’s not that much,” Zoe began, but Leah had already made her way to the trunk. Resigned to the fact that her mother wasn’t done with her, she got out of the car and headed to the house.

Leah followed her inside, tsking at the sight of Zoe’s mismatched furniture and piles of everything strewn throughout. “You really need to straighten up this house. A clean home and a full belly is the way to a man’s heart, you know.” She set two of the suitcases by the door and placed Zoe’s carry-on on the overstuffed chair by the fireplace.

So is screwing him every day, Melanie whispered in her mind. A cross between a sob and a giggle escaped her mouth.

Kitten heels clicked across wide pine floors as her mother walked around. She ran a finger across the table and frowned.

“Will you stop?”

Her mother’s head snapped up, dark blue eyes narrowing. “That man teach you to talk to your mother like that? What kind of family does he comes from?”

“How should I know? I’ve never met them.” Yeah, that was helping. Zoe steeled herself for more of her mother’s diatribe.

“Zoe Martha Ambrose, that man has no morals, a bad reputation and couldn’t see fit to come home with you. He’s off gallivanting around and has been photographed with another woman while you’ve been hiding out in Palm Island for the past three weeks.”

“I was writing.” And going through pints of chocolate ice cream while watching Christian’s movies on the iPad he’d given her. Weeping while slingshotting birds at pigs. Later, after seeing pictures of her husband dancing with a woman named after a fruit, she’d chunked the damn thing into the ocean.

Of course she’d gotten it back out. No need to kill sea life just because the entire world she’d built for herself had been blown apart, rearranged to have Christian at the center before being sucked into a black hole.

“You should be signing your name on the dotted line and be done with that man.”

Her mother’s disappointment was more than she could take at the moment. She had no desire for a lecture. No desire for the I-told-you-so speech. Her breaking point had past. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. I loved him, but I lied to him and now he-he…”

Leah crossed the room, enveloping her in a hug that lasted for hours. When the tears finally stopped, her mother brushed back her hair and gave her a sympathetic smile. “You want me to spend the night?”

“And make me some hot chocolate?” Zoe asked with a sniff. She stepped back and smoothed her shirt down over her hips.

“Whatever you need,” Leah said, moving to the door.

Zoe frowned. “Where are you going?”

Her mother turned to face her, eyes soft in the fading light. “To get my overnight bag from the car.” She waved her hand in the air. “You know what they say.”

“Be prepared?”

“No matter how old you get or the mistakes you make, you’ll always be my baby.” Leah shut the door behind her.

A ribbon of warmth wound its way inside of Zoe, thawing some of the ice in her heart and soul. She sank to the couch, pulled her knees up to her chest and waited.