Promoted to Wife? (3 page)

And yet he'd kissed her. Flirted, even. Didn't that tell her something?

She tossed the notebook on her desk. Zac had crossed the line, invading her private life—a shameful, personal part of it—without invitation. Embarrassment and anger flared up, replacing the fleeting desire. She'd been forced to grow up too early, the responsible one in their fractured family, until she'd been fostered out at ten years old. Relying only on herself had become a way of life. She didn't need saving.

Not even if her personal white knight was Zac Prescott.

A
s befitted his top-end income bracket, Zac traveled in style all the way, from the flights and airport car service to the accommodations. Normally Emily took secret delight in their business trips, in the unfamiliar luxury she could wallow in, albeit briefly. Outwardly she was perfectly composed, but inside her stomach jittered with glee each time, just like a kid on her first plane trip.

But this time was different—
she
was different. She was acutely conscious of every inch separating them on the flight south, of each small movement as he shifted his arm on the rest, when he brushed away that lock of hair while bent forward, concentrating on work. The way he took her overnight bag with a smile, shouldering it as they made their way to their waiting car. Even their “adjoining room” status at Sydney's five-star Park Hyatt on Circular Quay took on new meaning.

When they both got into the elevator and he pressed the top-floor button, she felt his interest, his eyes lingering for seconds too long.

“New suit?”

Startled, she darted him a glance. “No.”

“Shoes?”

“No.”

He paused then said, “There's something different about you.”

“Maybe it's my absence of rose-colored glasses.”

She hadn't meant to make him laugh. And in this luxurious harborside hotel, with the cloud of serious circumstances hovering in the background, it was a relief to see his normally animated face crease into humor.

“Does this mean,” he said with a quirk of an eyebrow, “you've forgiven me for butting into your life and paying off your debt?”

“No.”

“Even though I've handed you my highly-sought-after Point One account?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Is that why—”

“No.” The truth lay in his direct gaze. “They're two unrelated issues. You can do this job without worrying about you or your sister's safety.”

Man, why'd he have to put it like that? She pressed her lips together and stared at the ascending floors. Her objections were beginning to make her sound like an ingrate, and he knew it.

He returned his attention to the numbers, hands in his pockets. He was still smiling when they got off on their floor and he indicated she lead the way. They paused at their respective doors, Emily making a big deal of digging the keycard from her pocket.

“I'll see you in an hour,” he said as she finally shoved the door open.

She nodded like she had a thousand times before, knowing he'd be knocking on her door a minute to the hour, ready to throw himself into work. But when she stumbled into the familiar surroundings of her premier suite, pulled in her bag and closed the door, heavy tension came crashing down, forcing her over to the cream couch. With a groan, she collapsed into it.

Acute and painful awareness. That's what it was. He moved
and she flinched. He spoke and she felt a burst of desire spike her heart rate. And when he inadvertently touched her, she had to bite her tongue to swallow a frustrated groan.

You have got to get a grip.

Toeing off her shoes, she shoved her glasses up and rubbed her eyes. Work. This was work. She'd had no trouble focusing on it before. And now it was more important than ever. Zac had enough confidence in her to oversee the launch of Point One instead of outsourcing to a more highly qualified event-planning company. Whatever his motives for paying off Jimmy's debt, he wouldn't jeopardize his company or his reputation in order to do it.

Which meant she owed it to him to do her job.

 

Emily sensed Zac's mood change the moment they walked through VP Tech's huge glass doors in affluent North Sydney. They cut a silent path through the hushed foyer, all polished marble floor, chrome-and-leather fittings and subtle lighting. His posture signaled an impending battle even though his expression gave nothing away. Yet no matter how tense she knew he was, he still spared a smile and a greeting for the front-desk secretary and security man as they passed. Emily noted their surprised glances before his pace increased and she almost had to run to catch up with him. His haste, his irritation, all spoke volumes.

Do it quickly, then run. Don't get caught.

The words were so clear her mother could've been standing right there, slurring in her ear, her eyes glassy with drugs and bourbon. With an inward gasp Emily pulled up short, just in time to avoid Zac's broad back as he stopped at the elevator bay.

She was nervous for him, and that sent her heart into a jarring rhythm. Even as she covered up with efficient aplomb, readjusting her jacket over her hips and shoving her glasses back up her nose, she needn't have bothered. Zac was staring at the ascending elevator numbers with single-minded concentration, a frown creasing his brow.

They rode up forty floors in silence, and when the doors slid
open onto what was obviously the executive level, an imposing man stood awaiting them.

Zac's expression abruptly shut down.

Cal Prescott was the taller and broader of the two, with dark, lush features that spoke of a Mediterranean heritage. In comparison, Zac's face was more angular, more aristocratic, and coupled with his lean frame and tanned Nordic skin, the differences were a sharp and distinct contrast. Stepbrothers, so different in appearance, yet sharing an innate air of authority and confidence.

“Cal.” Zac finally offered his hand, which Cal took firmly. Then suddenly Cal enveloped him in a hug.

Emily watched them closely. When Zac finally extricated himself, awkwardness was etched as clearly as permanent marker over his entire body.

He took a step back and cleared his throat. “This is Emily Reynolds, my assistant.”

Cal smiled, thrust out his hand and said, “A pleasure, Emily.”

Emily could name only a handful of Zac's clients who gave her the courtesy of a handshake. Having Cal Prescott, heir to the VP Tech fortune and Mr. One-Click himself, pay her the subtle respect threw her. And judging by the look on Zac's face as their eyes met, it threw him, too.

Without missing a beat she recovered, returning the shake with a nod. “Same here, Mr. Prescott.”

“Well, let's go into the conference room.” Cal clapped a hand on Zac's shoulder. “Victor's on his way up.”

“We're not staying.”

Cal paused, hand dropping. “Why not?”

“Because I have a business to run and frankly, threatening me with press coverage to get me here was childish. Whatever game Victor's cooked up, I'm not playing.”

“Victor threatened you?”

“Via voice mail.”

“Great. Typical Victor,” Cal snorted. “Well, come in and
you can tell him yourself.” And he swept open the conference doors.

After Zac finally sat at the long boardroom table, eerie déjà vu crept over his skin with dark foreboding. Cal's odd welcome aside, nothing had changed in this place. Yet
he'd
changed. The years he'd spent carving out his own niche, finally free from Victor Prescott's suffocating influence, had given him new life and opened his eyes to new possibilities, new horizons.

It had made him who he was.

“So how've you been, Zac?”

His older brother sat opposite, the innocent question coated in loaded expectation. Zac studied him carefully. Cal had been his one and only regret when he'd walked out. He'd suspected his defection would cost him Cal's respect, but he still hadn't been prepared for the man's total ostracism.

So when Cal's immaculate yet impersonal wedding invitation had arrived in August, he'd been thrown for a loop, those old wounds threatening the peace he'd worked so hard to create. He'd declined the invite but still that perfidious Prescott blade managed to draw blood.

“Business is great,” Zac finally said. “Buyers are flocking to the Gold Coast, thanks to Sydney's outrageous land tax.”

“And yet I hear you've got a new property venture down here.”

He nodded. “Apartment blocks in Potts Point.”

When Cal's gaze landed on Emily, she returned it with a polite smile before opening her notebook, ready to take notes.

Her familiar cool professionalism was like a shot of Valium in the arm.

“Where are you staying?” Cal asked.

“The Park Hyatt on the Quay.”

“Nice.” Silence fell, and awkward seconds stretched by until Cal finally said, “Are you free on March the fifteenth?”

“Why?”

“Because I'm getting married. Attempt number two,” he added with a self-deprecating smile.

“What happened to—?” Zac clamped his mouth shut. He didn't need to know.

“You didn't see the write-up in the papers?” At Zac's curt head shake, Cal looked oddly irked. “Ava fainted, got taken to hospital. We're putting it off until after the baby's born in January.”

The automatic refusal fizzled on the tip of Zac's tongue, his hesitation furrowing Cal's brow.

“Congratulations, Mr. Prescott,” Emily automatically responded, her fingers flicking through her schedule book. “Zac, you have a meeting on the thirteenth—” to her credit, when she looked up and caught his expression she didn't even stumble “—but that's not confirmed,” she added diplomatically.

“You're going to turn me down
again?
” Cal said in disbelief.

What the hell was going on? Cal's thunderous silence over the years had screamed everything words couldn't. And now in the space of a few months, he'd not only called twice but was inviting him to his wedding again?

Then Victor strode in and all conversation ground to a halt.

Like all great businessmen, Victor Prescott commanded the room by his mere presence. “Reputation, authority, attitude and entitlement—make like you have them and people will give you respect,” he'd always said. Zac swallowed heavily. He couldn't remember a time when Victor's little decree of wisdom hadn't been on the tail end of every life lesson, every business deal he'd made.

The sour pill of irony was that he'd called upon it more times than he cared to remember these last three years.

Yes, he was free of all that tension and conflict. Yes, he knew who he truly was. But that didn't stop the suffocating expectation from surging up to tighten his chest and quicken his breath.

“Dad,” he said now, forcing his voice into neutrality.

“Zac.” Victor made a point of leaning over the table and offering his hand. Zac returned the handshake, then sat back down.

“Look, I have a meeting this afternoon,” Zac said without
preamble. “So I'll make this quick. You've got me here. What do you want?”

Victor paused, his eyes going from Zac then to Cal, who gave him a faint nod.

“I told you—as soon as you sign the papers, you'll be VP Tech's new CEO. Of course, you'd start as cochair on the board,” Victor said, ignoring Zac's scowl. “Then, after six months' probation, getting to know the business, our products and clients, you'll take on the position of CEO. That means you'd—”

“Hang on,” Zac lifted an impatient hand, then glared at Cal. “You actually meant what you said last Thursday?”

At Cal's nod, Zac speared Victor with his gaze. “You're CEO. Where are you going?”

“It's time I took a step back.”

No way.
“You're retiring?”

“Sort of.”

“Victor…” Cal began, but paused as Victor stared back. Something passed between the two men, then Victor finally let out an aggrieved sigh.

“I had an operation a few months ago. I'm fine now,” Victor shrugged off Zac's look, “but the doctors advised I should cut back on my hours.”

“I see.” Zac looked to a suspiciously silent Cal. “And what about you?”

“Cal has a family to think of,” Victor said coolly. “He doesn't need the pressure or stress.”

And I bet that just pisses you off.
“And I do?”

“Zac,” Cal began, but his younger brother's glare silenced him.

“After all those years,” Zac said, “those brutal hours working yourself half to death, you're passing up the top job?”

The look on Cal's face was unreadable. “As Victor said, I have a family now.”

This was unbelievable. “So you both thought I'd fall over myself to step into the breach? That I'd embrace this opportunity to return to the Prescott fold?”

He couldn't—wouldn't—hide the sneer in his voice. Latent
anger bubbled up, burning his throat. Once he'd desperately needed his father's approval, but Victor's lies and manipulation had pushed him over the line. Way, way over the line.

Zac had walked away from it all without a drop of guilt.

I can't go back to that.

He rose swiftly, back rigid. “No. Find someone else.”

“Zac!” Victor rose too, preventing his escape with one swift step forward. “At least think about it. You owe it to—”

“Don't. Say. Another. Word,” Zac ground out as the past swirled his vision, shrouding it in a patchwork of shadow and bright, painful light.

“You're a Prescott whether you like it or not,” Cal said calmly behind him. “It's part of who you are. So is this company.”

Zac spun back, a dozen furious comebacks tangling his tongue before he chewed them down. “That was your dream, Cal. I never wanted it. And I'm sure as hell not going to be
guilted
into it.”

And then he stalked out the door, Emily close behind.

 

As the elevator glided down, Emily chanced a glance at Zac. She'd known this meeting was the last thing he'd wanted, but the struggle now etched on his face spoke of so much more.

He took a deep breath, then another. If that was her, she'd be a quivering mess on the floor. Not Zac—he dealt with conflict, breathed it out and then moved on. He didn't let things get to him, which was why he was so perfectly comfortable in his own skin.