A Marriage Fit for a Sinner

‘I can’t do this.’ She tried to stand and collapsed back against the stall.

With a muttered oath, he scooped her up in his arms and strode to the vanity. Setting her down, he handed her a toothbrush and watched as she cleaned her teeth.

Eva told herself the peculiar look turning his eyes that gunmetal shade meant nothing. Zaccheo had probably come to ensure she vacated his penthouse before succumbing to whatever was ailing her.

Steeling her spine, she rinsed her mouth. He reached for her as she moved away from the vanity, but she sidestepped him, her heart banging against her ribs. ‘I can walk on my own two feet.’

Zaccheo watched her go, her hips swaying in that impertinent, yet utterly sexy way that struck pure fire to his libido.

He slowly followed, paused in the doorway and watched her pace the bedroom.

Although he’d primed himself for her appearance, he hadn’t been quite prepared for when he’d finally returned to the penthouse last night and found her asleep in her suite. All the excuses he’d given himself for staying away had crumbled to dust.

As he’d stood over her, his racing heart had only been able to acknowledge one thing—that he’d missed her more than his brain could accurately fathom. He’d thought the daily reports on her movements would be enough. He’d thought buying Siren and ensuring she didn’t overwork herself, or silently watching her from the gallery at Preston’s studio yesterday, listening to her incredible voice, would be enough.

It wasn’t until he’d received her email that his world had stopped, and he’d forced himself to face the truth.

He was nothing without her.

For the last six weeks he’d woken to a tormenting existence each morning. Each time, something had broken inside him. Something that would probably slot neatly under the banner of heartache. It had nothing to do with the loneliness that had plagued his childhood and led him to believe he needed a family to soothe the ache. It had nothing to do with the retribution he was no longer interested in exacting from Oscar Pennington.

It had everything to do with Eva. Flashes of her had struck him at the most inappropriate times—like the brightness of her smile when he was involved in tense negotiation. The feeling of being deep inside her when he was teetering on the edge of a platform three hundred metres above ground, with no net to catch him should he fall. And everywhere he’d gone, he’d imagined the faintest trace of her perfume in the air.

Nothing had stopped him from reaching out for her in the dead of the night, when his guard was at its lowest and all he could feel was need. Ferocious, all-consuming need.

Even the air of sadness that hung around her now wasn’t enough to make him not yearn for her.

His heart kicked into his stomach, knowing it was his fault she wore that look.

Her throat worked to find the words she needed. He forced himself to remain still, to erect a force field against anything she might say.

‘Let’s end this now, Zaccheo. Divorce me. Surely you’d prefer that to this mockery of a marriage?’

He’d expected it. Hell, her email had left him in no doubt as to her state of mind.

Yet the words punched him in the gut...hard. Zaccheo uttered an imprecation that wasn’t fit for polite company.

Give her what she wants. Stop this endless misery and be done with it.

It was the selfless thing to do. And if he needed to have learned anything from the stunning, brave woman in front of him, it was selflessness. She’d sacrificed herself for her family and turned over her innermost secrets when she could’ve just kept quiet and reaped untold wealth. She’d continued to stay under his roof, continued to seek him out, when fear had sent him running.

He needed to be selfless for her.

But he couldn’t. He walked stiffly to the side table and poured a coffee he didn’t want.

‘There will be no divorce.’

She glared at him. ‘You do realise that I don’t need your permission?’

He knew that. He’d lived with that fear ever since she’d announced back in Rio that she didn’t want to be married to him any more.

‘Sì,’ he replied gruffly. ‘You can do whatever you want. The same way I can choose to tie you up in endless red tape for the next twenty years.’

Her mouth dropped open, then she shut her beautiful, pain-filled eyes. ‘Why would you do that, Zaccheo?’

‘Why indeed?’

She shook her head, and her hair fluttered over her shoulders. ‘Surely you can’t want this? You deserve a family.’