‘Tom—’
Evidently sensing that danger himself, Tom hurried to the door, following in the wake of Zander’s stunned employees.
‘Just remember, Lauranne.’ Tom stopped by the door, keeping one eye on Zander as if he were a dangerous animal who might attack at any moment. ‘Remember what he did.’
Zander braced his muscular shoulders. ‘You’re extremely brave with one hand on the door handle, Farrer.’ His tone was lethally soft and Lauranne watched with dismay as the colour drained from Tom’s face at the barely veiled threat.
Feeling the tension in the room rise to critical levels, she felt an uncontrollable surge of panic, remembering what had happened last time these two men had confronted each other. And she’d been the cause of the confrontation. It was her fault that Zander hated Tom. She was totally to blame and she’d lived with the guilt ever since—
‘Stop it!’ Her voice shook and her breath came in unreliable pants. ‘Stop it, the pair of you!’ Still gripping the chair, her knuckles white, Lauranne glared first at Zander and then at Tom. ‘Go! For goodness sake, please go! Can’t you see that you’re just making things worse?’
With a final scowl at Zander, Tom slid out of the room and suddenly they were left alone.
Zander went straight into attack mode, his eyes fierce and his mouth tight with restrained emotion as he launched his first missile. ‘You went into business with him? With Farrer?’
Suddenly she was glad there was a table between them. It prevented her from hurling herself at him and committing bodily harm.
‘Yes!’ With Tom safely out of the room, she wanted to rub it in. Wanted to poke a stick at the tiger and see just how long it took for him to stop snarling and goad him into action. It was a dangerous game but she couldn’t help herself. What right did he have to question her? To stand there with that contemptuous look on his disgustingly handsome face. ‘Yes, I did. I went into business with him. Tom was good to me.’ She spat the words out and Zander gave a growl and faced her across the table.
‘I know exactly how good he was to you, Lauranne,’ he growled savagely, his voice thick with anger. ‘I witnessed it firsthand.’
Her grip tightened on the chair and her breathing jerked. ‘We’re not going there, Zander. It was five years ago. If you’d wanted to talk we should have done it then but you threw me out. I refuse to discuss it with you now.’
‘There was nothing to talk about,’ he growled, livid streaks of colour emphasising his intensely masculine bone structure. ‘When a Greek man finds his wife in bed with another man, the talking stops.’
He swore in Greek and paced over to the window while Lauranne watched in appalled fascination. She’d never been able to understand how Zander Volakis had gained his reputation for being ice-cold. With her he was so volatile and explosive that he could legitimately be held personally responsible for global warming.
‘What are you doing here?’ Without the protection of the table between them, Lauranne eyed him with healthy caution, all her senses primed for flight. ‘Why have you come here now? It’s been five years—’
Five years during which she had tried to come to terms with their brief and totally disastrous marriage. Five years of trying to put each shattered piece of her life back together, hoping that the glue would hold.
Zander didn’t turn and her eyes fixed on the back of his neck, on the dark hair that just touched his collar. His hair had always fascinated her. It was the only thing about him that was soft and she knew exactly how it would feel under her fingers. Silky. Tempting. So many times she’d slid her hands into that hair, holding his head while he kissed her to the point of meltdown.
Determined not to dwell on his considerable skills in that direction, she dragged her mind back to the present. ‘Why did you pick this company?’
He turned then, all forceful virile male, dominating her meeting room with the sheer force of his presence and personality.
‘I didn’t.’
She gave a humourless laugh as his words registered. ‘You didn’t know it was me, did you? One of your poor, unsuspecting minions recommended my company and you didn’t know it was me—’
‘But I should have guessed from the name.’ He gave a sardonic smile. ‘Phoenix PR. Rising from the ashes, Lauranne?’
She glared at him, her cheeks flushed with colour. ‘And you created those ashes, Zander,’ she reminded him hoarsely, her chest rising and falling as she sucked in air. ‘You fired me and made sure I wouldn’t get another job. You ruined my reputation.’
And he’d trampled on her heart into the bargain but she had too much pride to raise that with him. He’d proved that he didn’t care about her and she was damned if she was even going to hint at how much she’d cared about him. He was a heartless bastard and she should have had more sense than to become involved with him in the first place.
‘Evidently not.’ His gaze was ironic as he glanced round the smart meeting room. ‘You’ve done well for yourself.’
It was typical of Zander to judge someone by their business success, she reflected bitterly. Professionally she had done well, but as for the other areas of her life—
She wondered what he’d say if he knew that she hadn’t been on a date for five years. That every evening she worked until she was exhausted and then just went home and fell into bed. That she was afraid to slow down in case her emotions caught up with her. In case she suddenly started to feel.
Emotionally numb and physically exhausted was the only way she could safely exist.
But Zander wasn’t interested in emotion. He just didn’t do emotion.
He’d deleted their brief marriage from his memory with the same ruthless efficiency with which he organised the rest of his life.