“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 ass**le 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?”