I close the door and lean a hand on the wood. “Is that why you’re running, because you don’t care?”
She taps a foot on the floor. “I’m not running.”
“Leaving before you even got here doesn’t count as running?”
She motions at the door. “You’re blocking my way.”
Lowering my head, I study her through my lashes. She’s jealous. I’m not going to lie and say I don’t appreciate the attention, but she has no reason to feel uncertain of me. “I left her for you, Zoe.”
Her nostrils quiver. “I didn’t ask you to.”
“You didn’t give me a choice.”
Her blue eyes widen. “You don’t want to throw that accusation at me.”
I straighten. “It’s not an accusation. It’s a fact.”
“What choice did you give me?” She takes a step toward me and stabs a finger against my chest when I don’t reply. “Answer me.”
I grab her hand. “I’m not saying I regret it.”
“Don’t you? Can you honestly tell me you don’t miss the power and money? Can you honestly say you wouldn’t rather be living in your old house as Izabella’s husband and still get to fuck me?”
I think about that. I do miss the business. Not having the money certainly complicates matters and gives me sleepless nights. However, I do see it from Zoe’s point of view. I understand why such an arrangement would hurt her. Between the business and Zoe, there isn’t a choice.
“I’d do it again,” I say.
She jerks her hand from my hold. “That’s not what I asked. Do you miss it?”
“Of course I do.” Looking at her unhappy face, I feel a ping in my heart, an uncomfortable pull where there used to be nothing. “But you’re worth it.”
She blinks fast. “Do you regret not marrying Izabella?”
Yes, but only because it put us in this godawful position of financial risk. If the business goes under, I’ll lose everything. What will I have left to give Zoe? Yet I’d do it again in a wink just to have her. I’d do whatever it takes to keep her.
“Tell me, Maxime.”
This isn’t the kind of truth Zoe wants to hear. I can only answer it with a question. “Do you regret marrying me?”
The answer flashes across her face, raw and naked in her startling blue eyes before she manages to hide it behind a mask of indifference. We both have regrets. The difference is mine isn’t big enough to want to go back in time and change my decisions.
“I don’t regret marrying you,” I say again for what it’s worth. One day, I’ll earn enough money so that not marrying Izabella won’t be a regret. “She’s nothing to me.”
“It’s not her.” She looks away. “I have nothing against Izabella. It’s what she reminds me of.”
Of the pain I caused. Yes, I get that. “That’s over now.”
“Is it?” She faces me again. “From where I stand, I still don’t have a choice.”
Damn right. She’s with me. I could teach her a lesson about choosing between happiness and misery, but I promised no more lessons. No more manipulation. All she has as a device for happiness is love. Why won’t she use it? Why won’t she fall back onto it like she did that day on the beach when she begged me to love her? Why won’t she be the girl who believes in fairytales? That girl has the power to be happy amidst the grime like me. Me, all I have as a weapon is lust. I can corner her now and shove my hand into her panties. It’ll only take a few seconds to make her wet. I know how to drive her to her knees and make her beg, but I promised myself I’d give her power. I told myself I’d wait until she came to me. Well, she’s here now, pretty as a flower in the flesh, but if I open that door she’ll still be running. I want her so much I have to clench my hands until my knuckles hurt to prevent myself from grabbing her and spreading her legs on my desk.
When she pushes me aside and reaches for the door handle, all I can grab are straws. “You didn’t tell me why you came.” Don’t go.
Her tone is flat, her eyes dead. “I maxed out the credit card.”
“You did?” She’s never been a big spender. “What for?”
“I’m selling that dress, and you’re not going to stop me.”
I frown. “To who?” I don’t want her to have to work to support us, but I never said she couldn’t sell the dress.
“Doesn’t matter. I came to tell you I made an investment in fabric.” She opens the door. “Damian is sending a necklace to go with a dress I’m making. He said you can sell it after I’ve used it for publicity.”
Ah, damn. I lose. My willpower caves. Locking my fingers around her wrist, I hold her back. “Zoe.”
“What?”
Touch, me. “I’m happy you’re designing again.”
She pulls free. I step back, letting her go.
In the threshold, she turns. “I don’t regret marrying you, Maxime. I regret how it happened.” She takes a shaky breath. “I regret how everything happened.”
Hanging her head, she leaves.
I regret how it happened. How everything happened.
It and everything are small words for the shitload of dirty water that has passed under our bridge.
Chapter 31
Zoe
The day Vera Day steps off the plane in Marseille, the evening gown is ready. I’ve worked day and night. The necklace Damian promised has arrived. I bought a second-hand mannequin from a thrift store for next to nothing. The mannequin is dressed in the gown and the necklace, standing in the soft light that falls from the circular window.
I step back to study my work. It’s striking. The necklace hangs in a single platinum chain down the back, a black diamond caressing each vertebra of the naked spine. Magnificent. Definitely one of a kind but not me. I brush aside the odd twinge of betrayal that nips at my heart. This isn’t about
