Scandals Of The Rich: A Façade to Shatter - Maisey Yates

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her what she wanted to know.

      But he couldn’t. How could he say the words? He’d never said them to anyone. And if he did, what would she think of him? Would she look at him with terror or pity in her expression?

      He couldn’t bear either.

      “It’s not you,” he said, because he didn’t want to see that hurt expression on her face. She had so much to be hurt about, he realized, now that he knew about her father and what he’d done to her.

      Rotten bastard. If the man was still alive, Zach would love to get his hands on him.

      He blew out a harsh breath. “It’s just … I don’t talk about what happened out there. Not to anyone.”

      “It’s okay. I understand.”

      She wasn’t looking at him. He walked over and tilted her chin up with a finger. Her eyes were liquid blue, so deep he could drown in them.

      “Do you?” he asked.

      “Yes.” Her voice was firm. “I know what it’s like to have things that hurt you. Things you can’t talk about.”

      The idea anyone had ever hurt her made him want to howl.

      She reached up and wrapped her hand around his wrist. It was a soft touch, gentle—and he felt the ricochet effect all the way down to his toes. If he kissed her now, here, would she kiss him back?

      “But if you ever want to talk about it,” she was saying, “I’m here.”

      Here. His. He lowered his mouth, brushed his lips gently across hers. Her intake of breath made a current of hot possession slide into his veins. He wanted to hold her closer, kiss her harder.

      Instead, he lifted his head and walked away.

       CHAPTER TEN

      LIA CAREFULLY BRUSHED her hair and donned the dress she’d chosen for this afternoon’s cocktail party. Her reflection in the mirror looked the same as always, but she felt as if she’d been changed somehow. Her lips tingled at the thought of Zach, at that light brush of a kiss that had not really been a kiss.

      She’d wanted more. She’d wanted to reach up and pull him to her and not let him go until he’d thoroughly kissed her.

      And then some.

      But he’d walked away without a word. He’d had no trouble doing so. He’d left her sitting there with a half-eaten omelet and a fire inside her that wouldn’t go away.

      She was mortified. And angry. He might not want her, but he had no right making her want him. If he tried that again, she was going to sock him.

      Because her heart couldn’t take it. He smiled and laughed and fixed her an omelet, and she wanted to sigh and melt and bask in his presence.

      Pitiful, Lia. Just like Carmela had accused her of being. She’d spent so many years wanting to belong to a family that shunned her, and now she was up to her same old tricks with Zach. When would she ever learn? She had her baby now, and that would have to be enough. This thing with Zach was temporary.

      He’d told her as much in her hotel room, hadn’t he?

      Except, dear heaven, when she thought of him this morning, telling her why he’d joined the military and why he continued to book public appearances even though they were difficult for him—well, she wanted to know him. Really know him.

      She didn’t want this to be temporary when he said things like that. She wanted this to be real. She wanted a chance. They’d gone about it backward, no doubt, but there was something about Zach that hadn’t let her have a moment’s peace since the instant she’d seen him in that ballroom in Palermo.

      She wanted him in her life, and she wanted him to want her.

      Lia picked up her perfume and dabbed a very little behind her ears and in the hollow over her collarbone. Then she grabbed her phone to check her email one last time before slipping it into her bag.

      There was another email from Rosa. She opened it and read carefully, her heart rising a bit with every line. She had, after careful deliberation, answered Rosa’s initial email. Now she had a reply. One that was friendly and open and even a little curious.

      Lia sighed. Just when she’d given up on ever having a relationship with any Corretti other than her grandmother, this happened. She was pleased, but she was also baffled. It was as if so long as she wanted a connection, it would always elude her. The moment she stopped caring, or stopped wanting what she wasn’t going to get, it happened.

      If she could force herself not to care about Zach, would he suddenly be interested?

      Lia frowned. If only it worked that way. She dropped her phone into her bag and went to meet Zach. He was waiting for her in the grand living room that overlooked the lawn and the river beyond. He looked up as she walked in, his dark eyes sparking with a sudden heat that threatened to leave her breathless.

      His gaze drifted over her appreciatively. Tiny flames of hunger licked at her skin wherever he looked. Then he met her eyes again. The fire in her belly spiked. For a moment, she thought he might close the distance between them and draw her into his arms.

      He did not, of course. Zach was nothing if not supremely controlled. Disappointment swirled inside her as they drove to the Lattimores’ cocktail party. She kept her gaze focused straight ahead, but she was very aware of Zach’s big hand on the gearshift so near her knee.

      It was insane to be this crazy aware of a man, and yet she couldn’t help it. Zach filled her senses. The more she worked to keep it from happening, the worse it got. He was the sun at the center of her orbit when he was near, no matter how she tried to ignore him.

      The event was in a gorgeous mansion in Georgetown. After leaving the car with the valet, Zach escorted her into the gathering, his hand firmly on the small of her back. Lia’s stomach vibrated with butterflies. Last night, she’d simply been the woman on his arm at an event. Tonight, she was his fiancée, and the media would take a more pointed interest in her now.

      She’d seen the papers in his office, and read the stories about all-American hero Zach Scott and the mystery woman he was suddenly engaged to marry. Of course there was speculation as to why. That didn’t surprise her at all.

      The story basically went that Zach had traveled to Palermo for a wedding, met the groom’s cousin and had a whirlwind romance. They also speculated that she and Zach had conducted this affair over the phone and through email until they simply couldn’t stand to be separated any longer.

      It was a lovely hypothesis, though laughably far from the truth.

      Zach, however, seemed determined to play his role to the hilt once they entered the party. He was the besotted fiancé. He stayed by her side, fetched her drinks, kept a hand on her arm or her waist or her shoulder. Lia took a sip of her nonalcoholic cocktail and tried to calm the racing of her heart.

      Zach’s touch was driving her insane.

      She could hardly remember half the people she met, or half the conversations she had. Her entire focus was on Zach’s hand, on his warm, large presence beside her. On the butterflies that hadn’t abated. Oh, no, they kept swirling, higher and faster, each time Zach touched her.

      It was all she could do not to climb up his frame in front of everyone and kiss him senseless.

      Her senses were on red alert, and her body was primed for him. Only him.

      It irritated her, but she couldn’t stop it. She watched him as he spoke with a gray-haired woman, watched the curve of his mouth when he laughed, the sparkle in his eyes and the long, lean fingers of his hand—the one she could see—as he held his drink.

      Lia closed her eyes, tried to blot out the visual of that hand tracing a sensual path over her body. It didn’t work,

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