AFTER WORKING LATE all week to complete the items Miranda asked for after her presentation and rearranging schedules, Zoe was able to drop off Lilah at her best friend Julie’s house Saturday morning before making her way to Jackson Falls. The girls had met in fourth grade and had quickly become best friends. Zoe had gotten to know Julie’s mom, Victoria, and they developed a deep friendship. Victoria was also the survivor of an abusive relationship and understood how important is was to know and trust the people her kid was around. With little to no relationship with her mother and her sister living far away, Victoria and Julie were the family she and Lilah had created.
Byron had given her directions to his family’s estate in Jackson Falls instead of his campaign office. She was buzzed in through the gated drive and gasped as the house came into view down the long, tree-lined drive. She’d known Byron was rich, but damn. She hadn’t known his family lived in a modern castle. Did he live there by himself?
The home reminded her of one of those English countryside estates she’d seen in movies. The symmetrical multistory stone structure featured rows of tall windows along the front. Columns framed the door. What could only be described as possible additional wings with tall chimneys jutted out in perfect symmetry on the left and right side of the main part of the home.
She parked and prayed her SUV didn’t leak a drop of oil on the pristine white, circular drive. She’d left early enough to drop off Lilah and not feel rushed on the interstate, which had her arriving before midday. When she’d called Byron to let him know she was coming, his reply had been pleasantly surprised and relieved, but not excited. Not that she blamed him. One lie she’d told was still affecting him years later. He’d texted her the address and said they’d meet this morning. She wasn’t sure if the rest of the family expected her or what she was about to walk into.
The door was answered by an older black woman who could be anywhere between forty and sixty. Her dark brown hair was closely cut in a stylish fashion, and a kind smile graced her face. She wore a light blue button-up shirt with the name Sandra stitched on the right side and a pair of khaki-colored slacks.
“You must be Zoe,” the woman said. “I’m Sandra, the head of housekeeping for the Robidoux family. Mr. Byron and the rest of his team are expecting you.”
Mr. Byron? Zoe’s stomach flipped and her hands became sweaty. He wasn’t just Byron or Pretty Ricky here. He was Mr. Byron. The owner of this estate. A potential future senator for the country. The other day he’d still reminded her of her old friend, and she’d been nervous but confident she could trust him in this process. Now...now she wondered if Future Senator Byron Robidoux was still the same guy she’d once trusted.
“Thank you, Sandra,” Zoe said. Her voice came out light and reedy. She cleared her throat. Do not let them intimidate or overrun you. “Where are we meeting?” Her voice was clear and stronger with the question.
“This way,” Sandra said. She led Zoe down the hallway to a thick wooden door. Sandra knocked two times before turning the handle and entering without waiting for a response. “Ms. Zoe Hammond is here.”
If butterflies weren’t having a disco party in her stomach, Zoe would have chuckled at the formality of being announced. Zoe thanked Sandra again and took what felt like the longest step of her life by crossing the threshold into the room. An honest-to-goodness conference room. Complete with gleaming dark wood table, bookshelves on the wall filled from top to bottom, a huge flat-panel television along another wall and a window that overlooked what Zoe assumed was the backyard terrace.
She did chuckle at this. A conference room in a house. Who did that?
Four men sat at the shining table. Three she recognized; one was a stranger. Mr. Robidoux hadn’t changed much in the thirteen years since she’d last seen him. He was still the spitting image of Byron twenty years in the future. His eyes were still sharp, calculating and clouded with distrust. He’d said she wasn’t right for Byron, but he would go along with his son’s wishes to make him happy. A few days later he’d sat next to his wife as she laid out all the reasons Zoe should walk out of Byron’s life. No word of Byron’s happiness had been mentioned during that meeting.
Byron stood along with Dominic, the private investigator she’d met a year before. The fourth guy glanced at her, his watch, then back to his computer.
Alrighty then. Apparently, she already had an enemy.
“Am I late? I didn’t realize you were meeting at a set time,” Zoe said unapologetically. Byron knew she was on her way and was driving several miles. If he wanted to meet at a certain time, he should have told her.
Byron shook his head. “You aren’t late. We’ve been in here since early morning. Come in and have a seat.”
Zoe nodded and went to the table. A silver tray filled with fresh fruit and pastries sat on the buffet beneath the television. Next to it was a tray covered with crystal goblets filled with a variety of liquids varying in shades from dark brown to amber and clear. A minibar in a conference room.
“Do you want something to drink?” Byron asked.
She most definitely wanted something to drink, but she wasn’t about to dull her senses with alcohol. Not when she felt like she’d just walked into an interview for a job she wasn’t sure she wanted. “Water if you have it.”
Byron immediately moved to the tray, opened a bottle of water, and poured it into a glass. He wore a short-sleeved blush-colored button-up tucked into navy slacks. The top few buttons were open, and a gold watch gleamed on his wrist. Even on the weekend he managed to look like he could be working in the office.
“You remember my dad,” Byron said, handing Zoe the glass.
Zoe nodded and took a sip of the water. “I do. Hello, Mr. Robidoux.” She couldn’t lie and say it was good to see him again. She’d thought her burden on the family was over the day she’d walked away from him and his wife. She’d never expected to or hoped to be in front of him, once again needing his family’s assistance.
“Zoe, welcome back,” he said formally.
Byron pointed to Dominic. “You know Dominic.” Byron pointed to the guy who’d given Zoe the evil eye. “This is my campaign manager, Roy Bouknight.”
“Nice to meet you, Roy.”
“Likewise,” he said, sounding as sincere as a telemarketer with a once-in-a-lifetime deal.
Zoe looked around the room then back at Byron. “I thought we were just going to talk.”
“We are, but I need the entire team here.”
The entire team. Her teeth clenched and her hand tightened around the straps of her purse. She glanced at the other men in the room. Men who were ready to plan her future. Her gaze shot back to Byron. “Have you also already come up with the plans for what’s next? Did you really ask me up here just to tell me how Lilah and I are going to be paraded around by your campaign and what rules I’ll need to follow?”
She’d forgotten how the entire team behind the Robidoux family had tried to intimidate her before after Byron asked her to marry him until this very moment when faced with the same thing.
Byron’s eyes widened. “Zoe, no, of course not. I’ve got an uphill battle even without the threat of blackmail. We’ve spent the morning talking about all the challenges I face. Now that you’re here, we’re ready to talk about what will work for you and Lilah.”
Zoe watched him for several seconds. She looked for but didn’t see any signs that he’d lied. His gaze didn’t waver. Tension started to seep out of her body. Slowly, she put her purse on the table and pulled out a chair.
“Okay, let’s talk.” She sat down.
Byron settled into the chair next to her. They didn’t touch, yet she was completely aware of him beside her. Could smell the hint of his cologne and a brush of the heat of his body. Zoe shifted her chair a little bit away from Byron and focused on his campaign manager.
Grant’s eyes were sharp and observant as he looked from her to Byron. “Well, since we are going to go with the story you...concocted back in college...” A huff accompanied the word concocted. “Of course you should be here for the discussion.”
Zoe’s spine stiffened. Grant spoke as if she’d made her decision for fun. Not because she’d been afraid. Or because the second she’d seen the plus sign on the pregnancy test she’d known Kendell’s promise that she’d never be able to leave him was true. Or that when Kendell found her crying over the test and his hand balled into a fist as he said It better be mine that she realized his suspicions were her way out.
Byron leaned forward and spoke before Zoe could. “The story we both agreed to,” he said in an unflinching voice.
She threw him a grateful look. Byron had been there that night. He’d seen the truth of her situation and understood her decision hadn’t been a plot to trap him. To hear his unwavering support even after everything that happened sent warmth through her chest.
Grant held up a hand. “Fine. The story you two concocted. We need to make sure we do a few things. Anyone who doesn’t currently know doesn’t need to. We’ll have to work on a plausible story that won’t make voters turn against Byron.” His eyes flicked to Zoe. “Or hate you.”
“Why do we care if they hate me?” Zoe asked. This was Byron’s campaign and she wasn’t the fiancée. What voters thought about her shouldn’t matter.
“Because if they hate you that dislike will spill over to Byron. We need something that will make them sympathetic to you both.” The last part came out like a concession he didn’t quite agree with.
She hadn’t considered that. She wasn’t sure how any of this was supposed to work, but voters liking her hadn’t been something she’d considered. She took another sip of water to try and calm her fluttering stomach. She turned to Byron. His eyes were calm and reassuring. Zoe took a steady breath. That was why she was here, to find out all the ramifications of going forward.
“Then what do you suggest?” Zoe asked the question of Byron instead of his father.
Byron’s hand lifted as if to reach for her arm or shoulder and squeeze it the way he used to. A beat later he rested his hand on the table near hers. He leaned forward, his gaze steady. “That’s why I wanted to wait on you to discuss ideas. This affects you, too.”
“Do what I told you,” Grant’s booming voice interjected. Both Zoe and Byron jerked back and focused on him. Grant nodded before continuing. “Go with a version of the truth and tell everyone she ran off and disappeared. You found out years later that she had the baby.”
Zoe’s hand balled into a fist on the surface of the table. “I didn’t run off. I realized marrying Byron wasn’t the right thing to do.”
“No truer words were ever spoken,” Grant mumbled.
Roy coughed and looked through some papers. Dominic flinched and glanced out the window. Zoe’s teeth clenched. She couldn’t believe he would sit there and act as if her leaving Byron after everything he’d done for her had been another whim. Zoe swallowed and took a deep breath. Arguing with Grant and flying off the handle would play right into his hands.
“Of course you’d think those words were the truth. I got them from you and your wife the night before I left.” Zoe said the words clearly. Deliberately.
Grant didn’t look a bit chastised. His chin lifted a little and he studied her. Measured her up. She was here to do Byron a favor, not to get in good with his father.
Byron rocked back in his chair. He ran a hand over his beard and glared at his father. “You convinced her to leave? You and Mom?”
When Grant didn’t immediately answer, only stared at Zoe in challenge, she guessed that even though she’d alluded to this when she talked to Byron, he hadn’t brought it up with his dad yet.
Zoe turned from Grant and gently touched Byron’s forearm to get his attention. Confusion swirled in the light brown depths of his eyes. She nodded. “They convinced me to leave. They weren’t wrong, Byron. We both agreed to that the other day.”
“We knew you’d get over her quickly,” Grant said. “And we were right. You did.”
The triumphant words punched Zoe’s heart a little. She hadn’t expected Byron to cry and pine over her after she left. Sure, he’d said he loved her, but he’d never lacked female companionship and hadn’t admitted his feelings until after she’d come to him for help. She’d assumed he was feeling an abundance of affection and protectiveness after she ran to him for help. The tiny, romantic part of her heart she tried to ignore had wondered if Byron’s love had been real. Grant’s words snuffed out the last little bit of nostalgia she’d had about the true meaning behind Byron’s promises.
Byron drummed his fingers on the smooth surface of the table. He looked from Grant to Dominic and Roy then finally at Zoe. Tension radiating off his body. He closed his eyes and breathed in and out through his nose. “Get out,” he said in a low, controlled voice.
Zoe’s eyes widened. “You’re kicking me out?”
Byron shook his head. “Not you.” He opened his eyes and pointed at his father and the other two men on the other side of the table. “Everyone else. Out. Now.”
Roy sat up straight. “Hold up, Byron, I know your dad may have upset you, but we’ve got to figure this stuff out.”
“We will figure this out. I’m sure you’ve got a dozen ideas and are ready to tell me exactly what to do, but right now I need a moment alone with Zoe.” His eyes never left his father’s. “Everyone. Out.”
Grant’s eyes narrowed. Zoe didn’t move as the two men stared at each other. Dominic stood first. He motioned with his head toward Roy and then toward the door. The campaign manager huffed and shook his head before standing and following Dominic out of the room. The room was silent after the two men left. Byron and Grant glared at each other. Zoe sat still, her body tight and her breathing ragged. She didn’t like being alone in a room with not one, but two, angry men.
“Son—”
“Dad,” Byron said, his voice sharp. He held up a hand and took another long breath. “Not now. Right now I need you to go.” His voice lost some of its edge but was still firm.
Grant rose stiffly to his feet. He ran a hand down the front of his blood-red button-up shirt then straightened the collar. After one last irritated glance in Zoe’s direction he left the room.
Silence filled the space and sucked all the air out of the room. Zoe had removed her hand from Byron’s arm. He sat still, eyes closed, nostrils flaring with his deep, heavy breaths. Zoe licked her lips and tried to ignore the frantic beating of her heart. Was he mad at her? Byron had never lashed out or hurt her, but he was clearly furious. She hadn’t been in a room with a furious man in over thirteen years. Her stomach quaked and her palms sweated. She eased her chair slightly away from his.
Byron’s head snapped her way. She didn’t know what he saw in her face, but his eyes widened. He slowly backed his chair away from her, got to his feet and walked to the windows overlooking the terrace. As soon as the distance was between them, Zoe breathed easier.
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” Byron said, his voice apologetic.
Zoe hadn’t meant to show how much they’d affected her. She hadn’t expected to be frightened so easily. She closed her eyes and pressed a hand to her temple. Embarrassment heated her face. Years of self-defense and therapy were supposed to have shown her how to channel her fear. Figure out how to assess and escape potential volatile situations. Not immediately turn back into the frozen, scared rabbit she’d been all those years ago.
“I didn’t realize I would react that way,” she said, instead of denying her fear. That was the other thing she wouldn’t do anymore. Hide her own discomfort to make someone else feel better.
He turned his head to the side and glanced at her over his shoulder. “I’ll be mindful of that in the future.”
She didn’t want him to treat her as if she would run scared if he ever raised his voice, but she appreciated that he understood and wasn’t telling her she overreacted or needed to calm down. They were both getting to know the other person again. “Thank you.”
Byron looked back out the window. “Why didn’t you tell me what my parents said before you left?” His voice wasn’t accusatory, just curious.
She’d considered telling him because she’d known exactly what he would say and do. He’d get angry with his parents for trying to protect him. Insist they were wrong and that the two of them getting married was the right thing to do. He would have convinced her to stay, and she never would have learned to stand up on her own.
“Some of what they said was hard to hear, but when they were done, I couldn’t disagree with them.” She sighed and sat back in her chair. “I think the entire thing was your mom’s idea. Grant had already told me he was willing to go along with what you wanted, but he didn’t contradict her when she said my leaving was for the best.”
Byron turned away from the window and watched her. “I’d like to disagree on that, but if I’m honest with myself I know it was her idea. Dad was confused and frustrated when I called and told him, but he understood when I finished explaining. Mom, on the other hand...” Byron ran a hand over his face and let out a humorless laugh. “She wasn’t happy at all.”
“I didn’t think you’d care,” she admitted. “I thought a part of you would be relieved.”
His eyes sharpened. “Relieved?”
“I came to you with a bruised face and a bunch of drama. Kendell’s gang ties ran deep. So deep I think even his mom was involved. You were this awesome, confident, cocky guy who wanted to do something great with his life and possibly save the world. You deserved better than hiding my secret.”
She hadn’t believed she deserved Byron’s help. That she wasn’t worth his sacrificing future happiness. Though she never regretted telling the lie and escaping Kendell, she couldn’t bring herself to accept anything else from him.
“I deserved better? You say that as if you didn’t deserve to be loved by me.” His reply held a hint of frustration.
“Honestly, back then, I didn’t think I deserved that.” She couldn’t sit as memories of how low her self-confidence had been came rushing back. How she’d believed love only came with pain, embarrassment and subjugation. She got up from her seat and walked to the other side of the table. Her hands clenched the back of one of the soft leather chairs.
“I grew up in a pretty fucked-up household. My mom always said if a man didn’t hit you occasionally, then it wasn’t love. I needed time to deprogram that stuff from my brain. I needed to stand on my own two feet, love myself enough to accept real love when it finally came along.”
His brows drew together. “Finally came along? There you go again pretending as if my feelings weren’t real.”
She scoffed instead of acknowledging the stirring in her stomach from the echo of disbelief in his voice. An echo of something she’d heard the first time he’d confessed he loved her and she’d laughed because she’d found the idea unbelievable. “Come on, Byron. We know you didn’t really love me. We were friends. It was a little bit of attraction, tossed in with my hero worship and some affection.”
He ran a hand over his face and looked skyward before letting out a dry chuckle and shaking his head. When he looked at her again, his eyes were hot with determination. He slowly stalked toward her. Zoe’s breathing stuttered, but not from fear. Sparks crackled across her skin as he drew closer. He didn’t crowd her, but he stopped close enough for her to see hunger in the depths of his light brown eyes. A hunger that tightened her nipples and sent slick heat pooling between her thighs.
“What I felt for you wasn’t hero worship, a small bit of affection, or a little bit of attraction.” His voice was low and resonated with emotion. “Neither was the pain I felt when you walked away.”
Everything stopped as the truth of his words sank into her, settled around her nerve endings and scattered foolish yearning through her veins. Not once in the time they’d known each other had Byron ever embraced her as anything more than a friend. Once he’d brushed a brief kiss across her forehead after they’d won a grant for one of their projects. She’d stayed up late into the night swearing she could still feel his lips on her forehead and dreamed about his lips on her mouth, neck, back and other places. The next time she’d seen him she’d had to fight the urge to find out if reality was anything like her dreams. The same urge pushed her now. She wanted to step closer to him, press against the strength of his body and be encircled by the warmth of his arms.
She took a small step toward him. Byron slid just a little bit closer. Their breathing resonated in the quietness of the room. Her gaze dipped to his full lower lip. One more step. If she took that last step, if she closed the distance, would he pull her into his arms?
Only one way to know for sure.
The door opened. “There you are,” a woman’s voice cooed. “Your daddy told me you were in here meeting with the latest fire we need to put out.”
As if doused in ice water Zoe nearly jumped back from Byron. He blinked as if waking from a trance before looking over her shoulder. For a second she saw disappointment flash across his features, before the confident smile he always wore lifted his full lips.
“Don’t talk like that, Yolanda.” His smile remained but his voice was serious.
Yolanda sidled up next to Byron, slid her arm through his and rested her hand on his forearm just enough for the diamond on her ring finger to catch the light.
The fiancée.
Could she be any more foolish? She was no better than Lilah. Getting caught up in romantic ideas of second chances and happily-ever-afters. Byron was engaged. She’d do well to remember that and not get swept away by declarations made long ago.
“I’m sorry. You know I’m only teasing. You must be Zoe.” Yolanda’s voice was warm, her eyes smiling, her lips lifted in a beautiful smile.
Zoe felt sick to her stomach. She would not be that woman. The woman who came into an ex’s life and fucked everything up just because of a wild thought that she deserved a second chance. Besides, Byron had never been her ex.
“I am.” Zoe’s voice was husky, and she cleared her throat before holding out her hand. “It’s great to meet you. Byron has told me so much about you. It’s great to see my old friend so happy.”
He was happy. He was in love. He was getting married.
Yolanda’s head tilted. “I’m the lucky one.” She grinned up at Byron. Her eyes bright with adoration. “So have we come up with a plan? As soon as Byron told me about the blackmail, I immediately said we needed to contact you and find a way to make it work. Neither of us wants you to come into any trouble. We will find a way.”
Zoe glanced at Byron, but he stood stiffly next to Yolanda. He avoided eye contact with Zoe and placed a hand over Yolanda’s, which still rested on his forearm.
“Thank you.” Zoe’s stomach soured even more. She couldn’t believe she’d almost threw herself into his arms. He couldn’t even look at her. He had to think she was ridiculous, sliding close to him and probably begging him with her eyes for a kiss. Now he couldn’t even look her way. This is why she hadn’t had a relationship in years. She didn’t know jack about having a healthy one.
“Good,” Yolanda beamed. “Let’s call the rest of the team in here and get to work.”