Scandals Of The Rich: A Façade to Shatter

He swung to look at her. “Who said I was dreaming of the war?”

She thought of the wild look in his eyes when he’d first looked at her, at the way he’d seemed to be somewhere else instead of here, and knew she was right. Just like that night in Palermo, though he had been wide awake then.

“Is it the same as what happened when I first met you? Or different?”

He didn’t say anything at first. He simply stared at her. The moonlight limned his body, delineating the hard planes and shadows of muscle. She had an overwhelming urge to touch him, but she clenched her hands tightly at her sides instead.

She would not reach for him and have him push her away. She’d done that too many times in her life, when she’d reached out to family and been shunned instead.

“You don’t quit, do you?” he asked.

“You can deny it if you like,” she said. “But I think we both know the truth.”

“Fine.” He blew out a breath. “It’s different than Palermo. When I dream, it’s much worse.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He laughed suddenly. A broken, rusty sound. “God, no. And you don’t want to hear it, Lia. You’d run screaming back to Sicily if you did. But thanks for trying.”

Lia bristled at his presumption. “I’m tougher than I look.”

He shook his head. “You only think you are. Forget it, kitten.”

Kitten. She didn’t know whether to be insulted or warmed by that endearment. “The photographer did bother you.”

“Yes.”

There was a warning in his tone. But she couldn’t leave it, not now.

“Why do you do these things if you’re worried about your reaction?”

He growled. “Because I have no choice, Lia. I’m a Scott, and Scotts do their duty. And you’d better get used to it because soon you’ll be one of us.”

It suddenly made her angry. Why should people do things that hurt them just to please other people? “So you’re saying I must put myself in situations that cause me stress for the sake of the Scotts?”

His eyes flashed. “Something like that.”

She lifted her chin. “And if I refuse?”

“Too late to back out now, babe. I told Elizabeth Cunningham you were my fiancée. Tomorrow, the papers will be filled with you and me. The whole city will be interested in the woman who captured my heart. And you will be at my side for every damn event I have to attend. Like it or not.”

A tremor slid through her. “You’re no different than my grandfather was,” she said bitterly. “It’s all about appearances. The family. What will people think? What will they do if they know we’re human, too?” Lia cursed in Italian. “We can’t have that, can we? Because the family reputation is everything.”

So long as you didn’t shame the family, so long as you kept your mouth shut and your head down, you could stay. But, oh, don’t expect them to care about you.

Don’t ever expect that. She put her hand over her belly and vowed with everything in her that her child would never for one minute think public façades were more important than feelings. It was untenable, no matter the importance of the family.

She started to turn away, but Zach gripped her arms. She tried to pull out of his hold, but he wouldn’t let her go. His face was so close to hers. And, in spite of her fury, her body was softening, aching. She hated that he did that to her. Especially when she did no such thing to him in return.

“Some things are bigger than our own desires,” he said. “You know that.”

Lia sucked in a breath that shook with tears. “And some things are more important than appearances.” She thought of him at the podium, of the way he’d looked when he’d started to fight the demons in his head, and then of the way he’d rushed out onto the terrace tonight, and she couldn’t stand that he would have to face the same issue again and again, and all for the sake of his family reputation. “Maybe you should talk to someone—”

He let her go and shoved back, away from her. Then he swore. Explosively.

A second later he was back, one long finger inches from her nose. It trembled as he pointed. If not for that single detail, she would have been frightened of his temper.

“Leave it, Lia. It’s none of your business,” he growled. The finger dropped and he spun away, put both hands on the railing and stood there, drawing in breath after breath after breath.

She didn’t know quite what to say. She hadn’t thought her suggestion would cause him such pain, but clearly it had. She hated that it did. And she hated that he wouldn’t share with her. That he lost his cool, but wouldn’t tell her what she so desperately wanted to know to help him.

She closed her eyes and swallowed, and then closed the distance between them until she was beside him. He didn’t move or speak, and neither did she.

“I’ll do my duty, Zach,” she said softly. “I’ll be at every event you are. And I won’t let them get to you.”

No matter what she’d said about refusing to go along, she wouldn’t leave him to face those situations alone. Not after tonight. He needed someone with him, and she would be that someone.

He turned toward her, his brows drawn down in a question.

She lifted her chin and tumbled onward. She felt silly, but it was too late to turn back.

“The photographers. The flashes. The crowds. Whatever it is, I won’t let them derail you or trigger a reaction. You can count on me.”

His expression didn’t change, but his nostrils flared. “You’re offering to protect me?”

Oh, it did sound so ridiculous when he put it like that. On impulse, she reached for his bare arm, squeezed the hard muscle encouragingly while trying to ignore the heat sizzling into her.

“Whatever it takes,” she said. And then, because her cheeks were hot with embarrassment and she didn’t want to hear what he might say in response, she turned and walked away.

“Lia.”

She was to her door when he called out. She turned to face him, her hands at her sides, trying for all the world to seem casual and calm. “Yes?”

“Grazie, cara mia.”

Her heart skipped. “You’re welcome,” she said. And then she stepped into her room and closed the door with a quiet, lonely click.

The day did not promise to be a good one. Zach turned up the speed on the treadmill, forcing himself to run faster. He needed to reach that Zen moment of almost total exhaustion before he could consider himself in any shape to deal with everything coming his way today.

The sun hadn’t yet peeked over the horizon, and the sky was still gray and misty from the river. Soon, however, all hell would break loose.

As if the hell of his dream hadn’t been enough to endure. He squared his jaw and hit the speed button. He’d been back in the trench, immobile from the drugs the medic had given him, and listening to the shouts and rat-a-tat-tats of gunfire. The marines had been cool, doing their job, but they’d known air support wasn’t coming in time.

He’d wanted to help so badly. He could still see the last marine, still feel the pistol grip in his hand as the man gave him a weapon. He’d lifted it, determined to do what needed to be done—

But he always woke at the moment he pulled the trigger.

Terrified. Angry. Disgusted.