CHAPTER SEVEN

SHE’D LINGERED BENEATH the shower and relived every moment of the episode in the bedroom, alternating between kicking herself for letting things go so far and being disgruntled that somehow she’d once again ended up on the wrong side of Zeph when he bore the responsibility for her being here in the first place.

Then she’d forced herself to perform a ten-minute yoga session in her room to calm her racing mind. She’d left her cabin confident that she had her emotions under control.

Realistically, there was no way she could get out of the six months Zeph had demanded she spend with him. The ‘I’ll never forget’ part was one she would have to play by ear. And she was most definitely not going to think about it now.

Sipping her coffee, she glanced at the place setting across from hers, telling herself she was prepared for whatever happened with Zeph.

Imogen knew all her calming efforts had failed the moment Zeph stepped onto the deck, brimming with male confidence, looking entirely too dashing in his all white attire—dear God, did any colour not look incredible on that body?—and making a beeline for her. Once again, he was barefoot, which made him, curiously, even more compelling. Like a man fundamentally connected to the cosmos and confident of his place in the world.

Against her will, she searched his face, her heart thumping wildly at the thought of everything that had happened between them. Wondered whether the icy condemnation he’d left her with still lingered.

When he merely pulled out a seat and sat down, she felt a little bit of wind ease from her sails, and took a tiny breath.

Once they’d been served coffee and fruit and he’d snapped his linen napkin loose, his gaze drifted over to her. She hated herself for her breath catching in her midriff, her senses on tenterhooks as she waited for him to speak.

‘Is that get-up supposed to put me off?’ he drawled, his gaze drifting over the long-sleeved blouse and pencil skirt she’d worn.

‘Can we not do this, please?’ she said, a little desperately. Had she chosen the outfit to bolster her confidence? Yes, she had.

There’s nothing wrong with that, she assured herself.

His amusement vanished, his eyes narrowing on her face. ‘Do what?’ he queried silkily.

‘This...you know what I mean. You’re trying to get a rise out of me.’

A hint of a smile reappeared but it was all cynicism. ‘You’re dressed like you’re heading for the office. Only a day after your husband has returned. One would think you didn’t want to spend any time with me. Not the look we want to project, I don’t think?’

‘It is a work day and I don’t remember agreeing to abandon all work on this...jaunt you want to go on.’

She cringed inside at how callous that sounded. But what other choice did she have? She was following the example he had set two years ago. After last night and what happened this morning, straying from the path felt like the riskiest thing she could do. If he thought her uncaring, then so be it.

Midnight-blue eyes turned a little flinty and she shivered from the change in them. Silence reigned for another minute before he drained his espresso cup and poured another. Then he helped himself to several cuts of Iberian ham specially cured for the yacht. Adding buttered bread and condiments, he took a bite and chewed while staring at her.

He swallowed and nodded. ‘Very well. If that’s how you want to play it.’

Her stomach knotted. ‘What does that mean?’

‘Nothing sinister, Imogen. If you want to work today, then we will work. I look forward to shadowing you.’

She shook her head. ‘You can’t mean...’

‘That’s exactly what I mean. Now do you want to discuss your schedule or shall I just ring up my assistant and muddle my way through?’

She snorted under her breath before she could stop herself. ‘You’ve never muddled your way through anything. Let’s not pretend you’ll do that now.’

His lips twitched. ‘I hear a compliment in there somewhere. I think I’ll take it.’ With that he continued eating, his healthy appetite almost hypnotic to watch.

She forced herself to eat a few bites of food, ignoring his steady gaze on her plate and his frown when she pushed the half-eaten meal away.

Her mind was still whirling when he rose to his feet and, for the life of her, Imogen could not get the image of him, fully naked, commandingly aroused and in the throes of his pleasure, out of her mind.

And heaven help her, he saw her struggle, leaning down over her chair, and brushed his lips against her earlobe. ‘I’m not going anywhere, dear wife. I suggest you get used to that very quickly.’

He sauntered out of the dining room, taking every ounce of air with him.

She told herself she rose and followed because she wanted to get on with her day but there was an undeniable compulsion to see what Zeph would do next.

He reached the study before her but went to the window instead of taking the seat. Only after she had sat down and opened her laptop did he approach and take the seat next to her.

‘What’s first on the agenda?’ he asked.

She clenched her gut against the hyperawareness his proximity triggered. ‘I have to touch base with the board. We have a video conference starting in five minutes.’

He nodded, sat back and folded his arms.

She scrolled through a few emails, grimacing when she saw one that made her heart sink.

‘Problem?’ Zeph asked.

‘The Canadian brothers are trying to throw spanners in the works.’

‘Show me.’

Eyeing him for a moment, she turned the laptop so he could read the email. Astonishingly quickly, he’d read it and sat back. ‘Ignore it.’

‘What?’

‘Let them stew for a bit. I find that focuses the mind. Five days, maybe a week should do it. Then tell them no. They take the deal on the table or we walk away.’

She opened her mouth to press him, ask if he was sure. The loud beep of an incoming video call halted it.

‘Trust me,’ he murmured. ‘And trust yourself.’

Imogen’s eyes widened. Something jumped inside her. Trust yourself. It was more positive encouragement than she’d ever had in her life. And it scared her how much she wanted more. Needed it.

Grateful for the distraction, she pressed the button to the call and watched seven expressions fill the screen.

The oldest, Apostolos Goumas, the most outspoken of the board members, glared fiercely at her.

From the very beginning, he’d disapproved of her, both as Zeph’s chosen wife—a position rumoured to be one he’d hoped his daughter would fill—and at her status on the board. No doubt he’d have discouraged his own daughter from taking up a space on the board he deemed should be reserved only for men.

‘You have located your husband and you didn’t see fit to inform us?’ he barked.

Even from a few feet away she felt the burst of displeasure from Zeph. Probably because it was the same emotion threatening to burst free from her. Years of practice aided her in not blowing her top.

‘First and foremost, I wasn’t aware I answered to you, Apostolos. Secondly, what would you have done had you known? If I recall, you’ve been urging me to have him declared lost at sea for several months now. So why the urgency to know he’s alive and well?’

The old man bristled and leaned forward, no doubt to put Imogen in her place. But another board member interrupted before he could speak.

‘Is he well?’ Vasili asked.

In a pool of sharks, Vasili was perhaps the least aggressive. Not that he wasn’t as prone to looking down his nose at her on occasion as his other colleagues. He just did it less.

She didn’t need to glance across her desk to verify Zeph’s well-being. She could feel his animal magnetism like a force field, pressing down on her. Hell-bent on dominating her. ‘Yes, he’s well.’

After several seconds, once they realised she wasn’t going to elaborate, their expression ranged from mild irritation to outright anger.

‘Listen here, girl,’ Apostolos snapped again. ‘You have no right to keep us in the dark. As members of his board, we need to know when he will return. If he will return. What is his state of mind? And we need to know where he’s been all this time, at the very least. You can’t just pick and choose when you—’

‘He’s my husband. I think you’ll find I can.’

His face grew redder. ‘What about the impact this news could have on the stock market? It could be catastrophic.’

‘I checked it this morning, as I’m sure you did too, so you’ll know it’s doing very well. And I disagree. I think news of Zeph’s return will be fantastic for Diamandis stock. But that won’t be done according to your timetable, Apostolos. Or at the whim of anyone else on the board, for that matter.’

Several outraged expressions filled the screen at her.

Trust yourself.

She wanted to glance Zeph’s way but she kept her gaze straight, her focus neutral.

Of course, Apostolos was the first to vocalise his affront. ‘You dare to lecture us on matters of the company’s health?’

‘It’s less of a lecture and more of a disagreement,’ she replied smoothly.

‘How do we even know there’s truth in this sudden rumour? None of us had any idea there was a chance that he could be alive. How do we know you’re not making this—?’

Apostolos’s belligerence whittled away when Zeph rose from his chair, stepped close and his image filled the space behind her. When he went one better and lowered his head alongside hers, several gasps filled the screen.

‘I’m going to pretend I didn’t just hear you call my wife a liar,’ he said with icy hauteur.

One by one, she watched them reel back in shock, then cower beneath Zeph’s fierce glare.

Bursts of speech and hastily put-together smiles appeared one by one. Zeph silenced them with the simple but effective act of raising his hand.

‘Kalismera, gentlemen. As you can see, I am alive and well, as my wife just told you. I will be in touch with you when I deem it right. In the meantime, you will show my wife the respect she deserves.’ He paused and swung his gaze to Apostolos. ‘And the next time I hear you speak to her in any manner less than respectfully, you will not appreciate the consequences. Any of you.’

She was about to reach out and end the call when Zeph held up his hand.

‘One more thing. My wife and I will not be available for the next few weeks. As you can understand, we have a lot of catching up to do. Can I be reassured that you will step in and manage the day-to-day?’ It was framed as a question, but Imogen and the board members knew it was not. It was a directive.

There was the barest amount of fidgeting before agreeable nods reflected across the screens.

‘Good,’ he said. ‘There is a matter with the Canadians my wife will send an email about shortly. That will be the end of her working day until further notice. But she will expect a full report at the end of each day from each of you.’

Then, amid the torrent of English and Greek that belatedly welcomed him back, Zeph pressed a button to end the call.

He didn’t move away in the silence that ensued. He stayed right next to her, his scent filling her senses, his presence overwhelming her. And those eyes she truly believed saw beneath her skin boring straight into her.

‘You didn’t need to do that,’ she murmured.

‘No,’ he concurred easily. ‘But it was either do that or fire every last one of them.’

Her gaze swung to his, astonishment weaving through her. ‘But...you’ve known some of them for years.’

He shrugged. ‘I don’t care. I will not have you disrespected.’

You don’t even know me! What about when you regain your memories and realise I’m the enemy?

Imogen wanted to yell those statements at him. To keep common sense at the forefront of her mind and heart. And yet, those simply uttered words were burrowing inside her, seeking and warming the vulnerable place where she’d yearned for affection and affirmation. Where she’d despaired that she would never be good enough.

In that moment, not a single cell in her body could deny the effect of Zeph’s words on her. Giving her what no other person on earth had given her.

Respect. Recognition. Acceptance.

She swallowed the sudden lump in her throat and glanced up. The gaze that met and held hers steadily zapped something else inside her.

Was that connection-seeking?

Was that loneliness she spotted deep in his eyes?

No. It couldn’t be. She was getting carried away. Forgetting the sort of man she was dealing with. Even without recognising a single member of the board, he’d got them to jump to his command. It was simply the effect he had on mere mortals.

And if that effect included getting her onside...

She watched him return to his seat. ‘And what was that about taking several weeks off?’

He tugged on her seat until she’d turned sideways to face him, one eyebrow quirked at her. ‘Are you going to take my head off for it?’

Belatedly, she tried to summon irritation or hurt at his high-handedness. ‘You planned this all along, didn’t you?’

‘Not entirely. But I can’t help but notice that you are bearing the lion’s share of the work when the board is there for a reason. None of them looked like they are in Athens currently. Am I wrong?’

She bit the inside of her cheek. ‘They took their annual holidays last week.’

‘All of them. At the same time?’

She shrugged. ‘Is it really work if I enjoy it?’

‘If it takes away time from your newly returned husband? Yes, it is. And before you say it, you may be unwilling but it’s decided.’

‘Just like that?’

‘You went to all the trouble to find me. Pardon me if I’m not going to turn my back on whatever it is that is going on here. So you can come clean with whatever else you’re withholding from me or we can spend time together. I said you had until tonight but I’m happy for you to give me your answer now.’

And with that ball lobbed firmly in her court, Imogen felt the last of her freedom draining away. ‘Jeopardise your health by feeding you information or spend time in your company. Those are my choices?’

That smile reappeared. ‘There is a third option, but I won’t risk you running away from me again should I mention it.’

Her face flamed and his smile turned into laughter. And wasn’t it just the most insulting icing on the cake that every cell in her body seemed to scream in delight at that sound?

‘Very well. I will curate my time accordingly, and give you the six months.’

Undisguised triumph leapt into his eyes. ‘Ehfaristo, yineka mou,’ he rasped. He started to reach out.

Fearing another touch, another caress would be too much, Imogen cleared her throat. ‘What do you want to do first?’

Without answering he rose and went to the yacht’s intercom. She watched him press the button that connected him to the captain and proceed to have a conversation in Greek she didn’t understand.

That done, he turned and strolled back towards her, the swagger in his walk wreaking utter havoc with her breathing.

‘I’ve just asked the captain to plot a chart for a few destinations. First stop, Montenegro. I’m in the mood for an adventure.’

That was the first in the series of alarming surprises in store for her that day. Once she’d sent the required emails informing her assistant and senior staff of her intended vacation, she went downstairs to her cabin, intending to change into a swimsuit to join Zeph for a mid-morning swim.

Her walk-in closet was empty. Every scrap of her belongings was gone, down to the dental floss she’d used last night.

Marching into the master suite down the hall, she knocked and received a deep-voiced, half-amused summons.

‘You had my things moved?’ she demanded, unwilling to look at the bed she’d rolled around in only a handful of hours ago or—after one heart-stopping glance at him—the man who was wearing swim shorts and nothing else.

Of course, she caught his eloquent shrug from the corner of her eye. ‘I anticipated your agreement and acted on it. You can choose to be affronted or chalk it up to expediency.’

‘But we were...we had separate sleeping arrangements before.’

His nostrils pinched. ‘Yes. Before. It doesn’t work for me any more.’

‘Why not? Because of appearances? You didn’t care about what the staff thought before.’

Something lit at the back of his eyes, too impenetrable for her to work through, and it was gone before she could figure it out. ‘A lot of things happened before that I’m seeking to alter.’

Her heart lurched. What did that mean? Imogen felt like ten kinds of coward for not being strong enough to insist on an elaboration. Not because she wasn’t yearning to know, but because she was alarmed by the possibility that the answer he gave, if it wasn’t the right one, might bruise her.

Her mouth worked, as if she’d love nothing better than to rip into him for his assumption. Something in Zeph’s belly jumped, hot anticipation swirling through his veins. He was almost sorry when she waved a dismissive hand. Because a small part of him also wanted that interrogation, just so he could work his way through why he’d given the instruction. Yes, he wanted his wife in his bed. But he suspected it went beyond that. An intense, unfamiliar need knotted in his belly that had nothing to do with sex. That compelled him to act in a way that clearly—if his wife was to be believed—was unlike him.

And that need wouldn’t be denied.

‘I’ll let it go, this once. Please don’t make it a habit.’ Her gaze, compelled by his unrelenting masculinity, skated over him again. ‘And just so we’re clear, we still won’t be having sex.’ Desperate words ripped from desperate senses that mocked her even as she said them. But she was proud of herself for drawing that line. Because stepping over it would be the last word in lunacy.

Wouldn’t it?

He curbed a smile, wisely guessing it wouldn’t be welcome. ‘Understood, wife.’

Her nostrils pinched in a quick inhale. ‘All this is one giant joke to you, isn’t it?’

‘Not at all. I just don’t see the need to expend energy on fighting when we could be using that energy efficiency elsewhere.’

‘Like sex, you mean?’ she threw at him. Or attempted to. She failed when her cheek flared bright red again and her eyes grew that stormy shade he’d come to associate with her arousal.

Oh, yes, his wife wanted him as much as he wanted her.

But not yet. ‘Eventually,’ he responded, much to the chagrin and disappointment of his raging libido.

Her widened gaze said his answer had thrown her too. She cast her gaze around, lingering on the bed before flitting away. ‘Then...what do you have in mind?’

Zeph stifled a groan.

Theós, was he better off just getting the sex out of the way so they could breathe for a time without it clouding every thought?

He pushed the boulder of craving away. ‘Believe it or not, I’d like to discuss you.’

Those alluring eyes grew wider. ‘M-me?’

‘No need to look so alarmed, glikia mou. It’s just a conversation. Which we will have after you get out of that insultingly boring get-up.’

She made a noise that sounded very much like a snort of disbelief, dragging further humour to the surface.

As she sailed to the twin dressing room where he’d had her things relocated with her pert little nose in the air, Zeph wandered to the balcony.

He’d noted how his occasional smile had drawn surprise from his crew. How his board members, even though every one of them deserved his ire for the way they’d treated Imogen, had all jumped at his appearance.

Was he a humourless bastard on top of everything else? Was that part of the reason Imogen tried to hold him at arm’s length?

With a grunt he pushed that too away.

Imogen had already given away more than he knew she’d intended to. He just needed to be patient and not push her too far too soon. What he wanted would come to him soon enough. Even if the torture of it might feel unbearable at times.

Like this morning...

He clenched his belly against the punch of hunger and turned around.

And almost swallowed his tongue when she walked out of the dressing room wearing a gold bikini moulded onto her skin.

He’d seen how beautiful she was this morning when she’d writhed beneath him. But as he gained some distance now, taking in the whole package, Zeph’s breath was knocked clean out of his lungs by his wife’s breathtaking beauty.

Theós, I’m never going to let her go.

He shook himself free of that visceral declaration that lit up in him. Shook himself free of the unnerving tenacity of it. He’d laid out his terms. She’d agreed to them.

It might not even come to that. He might be cured of this...need long before then.

He ignored the sceptical voice that trailed in his head as he crossed the room to her. He sensed her nervousness as she walked beside him to the open aft lounging area past the sprawling swimming pool on Deck Two.

Choosing twin loungers, he dropped into one and watched her set her back down and generally fidget while avoiding his gaze.

‘Relax, Imogen.’

‘Easier said than done,’ she returned, her full mouth set into a displeased line.

‘When was the last time you had a holiday?’

She shrugged. ‘I don’t recall.’

‘You don’t recall? I’m the one with the memory issues. If you don’t recall then this one is long overdue.’

Now, she glanced his way, and that jumpiness in his belly lessened. ‘You should talk. I have it on good authority from your PA that you’d never taken a vacation in almost a decade before you...went missing.’

When he raised his eyebrows at her, she elaborated.

‘It was part of trying to find you. Spyros has been your assistant for eight years. He said the only time you used the yacht or any of your homes around the world was if you were attending a business meeting or hosting whatever fundraising gala you were patron of. He also said you have a pathological dislike of hotel rooms, hence the insane amount of properties you own.’

‘Is one of those in Lake Como?’ he asked without any clear idea why the location slipped from his lips.

She nodded, her eyes widening on his. ‘Yes. Does it ring a bell?’ she asked, her voice pitched with expectation. Or was it alarm?

He slotted that information away as he shrugged. ‘I’m not sure. It just jumped into my head.’

Her pink tongue darted out to lick her lips, and he had to clench his gut again—a frustratingly frequent occurrence around this woman. ‘Well, you have a beautiful property right on the edge of the lake.’

‘I look forward to revisiting it, then. Seeing if it triggers anything.’

Even though she nodded, that wary look lingered in her eyes.

Back on Efemia, he probably would’ve taken pity on anyone so skittish around him—not that there had been many. But he couldn’t seem to control his impulses around Imogen.

He stretched out on the lounger, aware that she’d grown even tenser. ‘You were going to tell me all about yourself.’

‘No, you were demanding that I do. I hadn’t quite agreed.’

He sighed. ‘Is this to be another bone of contention? I’m beginning to think you like arguing with me for the sake of it.’

A startled look widened her eyes, triggering the sense that he’d just scored a bullseye. After gliding on sun protection in quick motions, she set the bottle aside and cleared her throat. ‘Shall I summarise my life for you?’ she asked, then continued before he could respond. ‘I’m an only child. My father wanted a son but got me instead.’

The words were clipped, but Zeph heard the unspoken turmoil wrapped around them.

‘We never really...clicked. I spent more time with my nannies than with Dad when I was growing up.’

‘And your mother? Where was she in all this?’

After a brief hesitation, she said, ‘She died a few weeks after I was born. Complication of birth, I was told.’

He muttered a response then realised he’d spoken Greek. Before he could translate, she offered a smile and a nod.

Zeph’s gaze fell on the monogrammed towel nearby, the extravagant ‘O’ followed by the letters that spelled out the name of a mother he couldn’t remember. Was he foolish to feel a kinship with Imogen over an occurrence that affected millions? He realised his fingers were tracing the ‘O’ when she looked down and then up at him.

‘Did I share details of my mother with you?’

Her face softened, even as she shook her head. ‘No.’

Another disquieting feeling swelled within him. Just what had they shared?

Ask her. Or was he hesitant to know because of what it might mean? That, for whatever reason, it seemed he’d plucked a near stranger from Texas and married her to suit his own ends?

A little annoyed with the deluge of internal questions and demands tumbling around inside him, he pushed ahead.

‘Where is your father? What is he doing now?’

Again those pinched lips that spelled her unhappiness about the subject. ‘He’s a consultant for my cousin’s oil company in Texas.’

‘I’m surprised he’s not here attempting to help you run a multibillion-euro company. It seems like that’s the kind of thing a man who wishes for a son instead of a daughter would jump at the opportunity to do.’ At her lengthy silence, his eyes narrowed shrewdly on her. ‘He tried, didn’t he?’

She nodded. ‘A few months after you went missing, he came to Athens. Offered to help me run the ship until you were found. I, and the board, disagreed.’

Zeph pursed his lips, his impression of the men he’d spoken with this morning only marginally improving. ‘Glad to know they’re good for something, although I think they were guarding their own interests rather than looking out for yours. And I’m guessing when you refused, your father didn’t stay to offer his support anyway?’

Imogen wondered whether he knew there was bitterness bleeding through his voice; whether his acrimonious feelings for her family were subconsciously slipping through the blank fog of his memories to manifest impressions he didn’t know about.

‘No, he didn’t. He gave his unsought opinion on my competency and left. We haven’t spoken that much since then.’

After several moments, layers of that acidity still lingered. She startled when the back of his hand brushed hers. ‘You stood up to him, protected what was important to you. Very little else matters.’

She wanted to laugh. Because on the one hand it sounded like much-desired praise. But on the other, it was exactly what he’d done to her to ensure her and her father’s capitulation. He’d leveraged her to ruin her family.

She shook her head, ruthlessly pushing back the tumult his questions had brought. ‘That’s me in a nutshell.’ Before he could probe deeper, she rose and approached the pool. This deck was level with the sea, the extended diving platform the perfect place for launching into the glittering waters of the Aegean.

And that was exactly what she did.

Zeph watched her execute a perfect dive into the sea, his breath uselessly shortened by the impact of her stunning body. Surfacing several dozen feet away, she cut lazily through the water before flipping to float on her back.

After watching her for several minutes, and attempting to resist the impossible, he did what he’d been doing since he walked onto his yacht.

He rose and went after his wife.

Imogen didn’t need to look to know when Zeph entered the water. She was beginning to fear this hyperawareness would become fused into her psyche. Hell, she was living in a state of mild panic about everything to do with her husband.

That realisation was what had sent her into the sea instead of the swimming pool. The need to lose herself in something bigger than herself. Than Zeph.

If that was even possible.

The sea...

She jerked up from her floating, her gaze searching for Zeph. Although his strokes were powerful and confident, her heart continued to beat wildly as he cut through the water towards her.

When he reached her, she blurted, ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t think...’

Another stroke brought him within touching distance.

His legs tangled with hers beneath the waters, effortlessly keeping them both afloat. ‘Calm yourself. I don’t see the sea as a place of trauma. It had a chance to take me. It didn’t.’ His lips quirked. ‘I returned to it as a fisherman for the better part of a year.’

Imogen snorted, then smiled. ‘I’m still wrapping my head around that. The billionaire turned fisherman, hauling his daily catch to make a living.’

His teeth flashed, highlighting his chiselled perfection. ‘A feast for the tabloids should it come out, I think.’

‘There’s no doubt it’s going to come out. I was forced to announce who you were in a church full of people, remember? It’s only a matter of when it comes out.’

‘We’ll handle it when the time comes.’

She nodded, her insides melting at the sound of the ‘we’. They bobbed around in the water for another minute before she glanced up at him. ‘Did you enjoy it? Were you...happy?’ she murmured.

His expression was contemplative for a minute before he answered. ‘I had nothing else to compare it to, so I made the most of it.’

A more practical answer than she’d anticipated. And yet, it was exactly the kind the old Zeph and perhaps even this new Zeph epitomised. Taking the raw ingredients handed to them by life or circumstances and turning them into something invaluable.

Wasn’t that what he’d done after the horrific destitution brought on by the Callahans? Zeph Diamandis, at the tender age of nineteen, had turned his family’s fortunes around. Built a global empire out of the ashes of acrimony.

‘But there were always questions. Beyond my missing memories.’

Her gaze sharpened on his face, her heart dancing around in her chest at the seriousness of his expression. ‘Questions?’

He shrugged. ‘I’m no neurological expert but a grown man having recurring dreams about a childhood version of himself in distress definitely raises a few questions, ochi?’

Imogen strove to keep her feelings from showing. To keep herself from tensing within his arms. And it took everything she had to execute a small, understanding nod.

While her heart dropped into her stomach at the knowledge that once he regained his memories, Zeph would surely damn her for keeping this from him.