Promoted to Wife? (17 page)

Zac looked up as he took their bags from the boot, the first real look since they'd started this trip.

“You like classical music?”

“I like Mozart,” she replied, shouldering her handbag. “I saw
Amadeus
about a billion times. I'm told it was my uncle's favorite movie.”

“The one who left you the apartment?”

She nodded. “I never knew my mother had family until his solicitor contacted me.” She closed the car door with a solid thunk. “From what the neighbors tell me, he was a pretty good guy. He used to watch movies with Kitty from One B every Saturday night.”

She let him digest that little piece of information as they mounted the steps. Then the doors swung open and Cal and his wife-to-be stood in the entrance.

Emily watched Zac smoothly make his way through Ava and Cal's warm welcome and the inevitable wedding-guest
introductions. If his smile appeared too tense or his shoulders too rigid, she said nothing. Just having him here was a major step.

They were shown to their rooms, two elegant side-by-side suites decorated in cream and gold with a huge four-poster bed in the center. As Zac placed her bag on the bed, Emily's gaze slid over the opulent coverlet, the whispery canopy. It was so massive, so in-your-face, it felt like a huge elephant in the room. It tauntingly reminded her that everything had changed.

She hung up her suit pack, the wardrobe door blocking her from Zac's view.

“What time's the ceremony?”

“Seven.” He dragged off his tie, then undid the top button of his shirt, the tanned skin at his neck forming a tempting V. She swallowed.

“Are you going to talk to Cal and Victor?”

“I can hardly avoid them.”

“That's not what I meant.”

He gave her a small smile. “I know.”

She let it go, instead flipping the top of her suitcase open. Why on earth had she said yes to this? This was a wedding, a celebration joining two people in love. If that wasn't a slap in the face, what the hell was?

“I'll let you unpack.”

One glance was all it took. One glance to see the uncomfortable tension riding his body as he stiffly grabbed his bag and made for the door, and her reason became clear.

She was here for Zac, to be whatever he wanted her to be this weekend—his date, his support, his emotional sounding board. He trusted her with his family secrets, a trust that simultaneously humbled and shamed her. What had
she
trusted him with?

She was sick of hiding—behind unspoken truths, behind awful work clothes. Even behind the possibility of a broken heart. She'd spent years protecting herself, making decisions based on fear.

She sank to the bed, staring unseeing at the closed bathroom door, at the polished golden handles and white glossy wood until spots danced before her eyes.

A mixture of dread and excitement rushed in, making her
limbs tremble. She was actually going to do it. After the wedding, after the reception. She'd pick her moment and then…

Then she'd tell him how she felt. Damn the consequences.

“C
allum Stephen Prescott, do you take Ava Michelle Reilly—”

Emily's eyes skimmed over the bride, a shimmering, smiling vision in off-the-shoulder white satin, a tiny tiara of diamonds holding back waves of black hair, and her throat caught. Well, what do you know—brides
did
glow.

Then she looked over to Cal. Dark and gorgeous in a sharp gray dress suit and sky-blue cravat. But it was his expression that held her: a rapt look of such happiness and pride as he gazed on Ava that it actually made her breathless.

She swallowed thickly, forcing back unexpected tears.

“You okay?” Zac whispered beside her with a frown.

She nodded, unable to speak.

When he silently offered her his handkerchief, she took it and carefully dabbed under her eyes. “It's just a little…” Fanning herself with her hand, she gave a short, self-deprecating laugh. “I've never been to a wedding before.”

“Really?”

“Shhhh!” An impressively decked-out woman to their left frowned. Emily gave her a watery smile, mouthing an apology.

Zac bent in, his lips close to her ear. “What about your own?”

She sighed, her eyes fixed on the beautiful picture Cal and Ava made as they recited their vows. “We signed papers at the town hall. Hardly cause for tears of happiness.”

When Cal and Ava finally kissed, their joy was so palpable everyone laughed, then began cheering as the kiss just kept on going.

She shook her head. “I didn't think it would be so…so…”

“Emotional?”

“Exactly.” She offered him his hanky back and he took it, eyes never leaving her face. She smiled nervously. “What?”

“I love your shoes.”

She choked out a laugh. “Thank you for them. I think I'll concede I'm hopeless when it comes to buying footwear.”

He glanced down at her feet, at the soft leopard-print high heels, the tiny pearl strands looped around the ankle. “Did I tell you how beautiful you look?”

She flushed. “You don't need to.”

“I want to.”

With a grin and a wink, he swung his gaze back to the ceremony, leaving Emily to swallow the lump in her throat. Hope bloomed low in her chest, a tentative bud curling around her heart. “Zac…”

Their conversation was cut short by the arrival of the bride and groom. As Cal and Ava accepted congratulations, posed for photos and smiled their way through the small gathering, Zac couldn't keep his eyes off Emily. She was no longer his conservative, efficient assistant. Dressed in a short flippy lemon skirt, a silky white tank and a cap-sleeved tangerine-colored cardigan that emphasized her womanly curves, she was elegant yet mouthwatering.

She'd even ditched her glasses. Her hair was swept up at the sides, the blond curls tumbling down her back. Unable to help
himself, he ran a hand up her back, tangling his fingers in the soft waves.

She glanced up at him and her mouth stretched into a smile, her eyes shimmering from still-damp tears.

And that's when it happened.

The sounds of the wedding, the nesting rosellas, the clink of the caterer putting down the final settings, everything just fell away. His heart leaped as emotion slammed into him with such power it left him struggling for breath.

He was hopelessly, totally in love with Emily. His assistant, who couldn't stand a messy filing system. Who harbored a secret love of cheesecake and mocha lattes. Who accessorized her desk with hot pink and sky blue. Who danced in the dark. Who had woeful taste in shoes yet chose lingerie that made his eyes roll back in his head. Who kept her past locked down, allowing no one entry.

He'd never been so hell-bent on discovering what made a woman tick. She was more than just a challenge: those tiny pieces of information she doled out just made him hunger for more. He'd managed to piece together the basic framework, but she hadn't offered more than he'd asked.

Craving movement, he went in search of the circulating waiter. He was fully aware he was living on borrowed time. She was leaving Valhalla next month, and by leaving the company she'd also leave him.

No going back, just moving forward. Like she'd been doing all her life.

So where the hell did that leave him?

He watched in brooding silence as his stepmother approached Emily. Emily returned her smile, and soon they were deep in conversation. Unbidden, Zac's mouth tugged up. Isabelle had a way of putting people at ease, which he suspected came from her honest, working-class background, devoid of the polished sheen of wealth. His gaze lingered on Emily's face, the way her eyes creased when she laughed, the way she held her hips, one forward, one back, her back straight.

Then Victor joined them and familiar panic snaked through every muscle, urging him forward.

“You're Zac's assistant and his date?” Victor was asking as Zac approached with two glasses of champagne.

“Yes.” She glanced up at Zac, smiling her thanks as he offered her a glass.

If Zac hadn't been watching the man so carefully, he might've missed that brief expression. But when their eyes met, Zac knew.

You're sleeping with your assistant.

The faint aura of censure accompanied an eyebrow raise, judgment quickly masked behind an impassive expression.

Zac scowled. Nearly thirty years old and he was still proving to be a letdown, tainting the exacting standards of the Prescott name.

His fingers involuntarily tightened on the glass stem before he downed the contents like water.

Well, Dad—screw you.

“I'm starting uni in April,” Emily said.

“Doing what?”

“Small-business degree. I'm going to be a life coach.”

Victor's bushy eyebrows went up. “A what?”

And here it comes.
Zac shoved a hand in his pocket, forcing back an irritated growl.

“A life coach. You help clients determine their personal goals, then help them achieve them,” Emily said.

“Like a career consultant, darling,” Isabelle explained. “But more…”

“Broad,” Emily added with a smile. “Holistic.”

“Right. And there's a demand for it?” Victor asked.

Zac frowned. He'd been expecting Victor's usual halfhearted interest laced with thinly veiled skepticism. Instead it sounded as if the man was almost…interested.

“A huge demand,” Emily said. “And it can be business-oriented, too—large corporations, government departments have life coaches under long-term contracts, which means a steady
client base.” She glanced at Zac. “Working at Valhalla has given me some excellent experience in the field.”

“I'm sure it has.” Victor's face was the epitome of politeness, yet annoyance still wound its way around Zac's chest. He had no doubt his father knew more about Emily than even she did. He was hard-core through and through, leaving nothing to chance, no sudden surprises lurking in the background. He knew this because of the way Victor watched Emily when he thought no one was looking. A calculated study, as if weighing up his options before deciding on appropriate action. The look was as familiar to Zac as every traffic light along the Gold Coast Highway from Surfers to Broadbeach.

It was Cal's wedding, for heaven's sakes. He should be happy for his brother. Dammit, he
was
happy. The man had everything—a lovely wife, a cute baby and a burgeoning business out here in Sydney's far west. Yet every time he spotted Victor, every time he thought about dealing with VP Tech, he cramped up. Like now.

“You two need to talk,” Cal had said earlier in his suite. “Despite whatever he's done, he has changed. Hell, he's even agreed to consider our suggestions. Once he realized it'd give him more time to focus on his new pet projects—”

“I didn't come here to discuss business, Cal.”

“Right.” Cal had lifted one eyebrow as he tied his cravat with smooth precision. “So what did you come here for?”

“You're my brother. You're getting married, remember?”

“And Victor is your father. You can't ignore him forever.”

“That's what Emily says.” Zac muttered, absently fingering the wedding bands Cal had entrusted him with.

Cal straightened his cuffs. “Smart girl, that.”

“Yeah.” He couldn't help but smile. “She is.”

When Cal finally held out his hand, Zac dropped the rings in his palm. “Ready?” Cal said.

“Are
you
ready?”

Zac saw the look flicker in Cal's eyes, his chest imperceptibly swelling as he nodded. Who would've thought his cool, workaholic brother would get emotional at his own wedding?

“Mate, I've been ready for months. Let's go.”

Now, as the sun finally set and everyone gathered under the wedding marquee for the reception, Zac hung back on the porch watching the proceedings. Lounging against the railing, cast in the half shadows of the dying sunset and nursing a drink, he watched the man who was his father make his way slowly through the throng, smiling as the local townsfolk congratulated him in breathless awe, bailed him up to chat or simply bathed in the cast-off glow of a billionaire legend.

Victor actually smiling?

He took a slow sip of his drink. Maybe the surgeons did more than remove a tumor.

When Victor finally broke away, strode up the steps and disappeared into the house, Zac swallowed the last of his champagne, clamped a lid on his emotions and pushed off the railing. Perfect timing.

Yet just as he approached the door, he heard a voice from inside.

“Oh, I'm sorry!”

It was Emily—he'd recognize her voice anywhere.

“No, my fault,” Victor returned. “I've actually been looking for you.”

Zac hesitated, curiosity overriding purpose.

“For…?” He heard the smile in Emily's voice.

“I find your business venture very interesting.”

“Really?”

Wow. Victor making small talk.
Zac stayed still, wondering where the conversation was heading.

“And you're actually quitting work to study?”

Zac frowned. Victor never asked a question he didn't already know the answer to.

“Yes,” Emily said slowly.

“That's a bold move, considering the current economic climate.”

“I know. And uni fees aren't cheap.”

“How's your start-up capital?”

“I have enough,” she said cautiously.

“Which means you don't. Most small businesses fail within five years, you know.”

“Yes. Mr. Prescott—”

“Emily. Let me cut to the chase. I don't know what Zac's told you about me—”

“Zac doesn't talk about his family.”

“Really.”

Zac could imagine Victor's raised bushy eyebrows, a picture of skepticism.

“Really. I work for him. We don't…have that kind of relationship.”

“But you
do
have a relationship.”

There was a slight pause, then Emily said, “I don't think that's an appropriate question.”

Despite himself, Zac grinned.
That's my girl.

Victor snorted in amusement. “No, I guess it's not. So let me get to the point. I'd like to offer you this.”

Another pause, a small rustle and a gasp.

“That's a lot of money, Mr. Prescott,” Emily said faintly.

Zac's grin fled.

Unthinkingly he surged forward, shoving open the doors in one almighty heave. In the long hallway, both Victor and Emily turned as one, a perfect visual of surprise. It took only one second for Zac to register the check in Emily's fingers, her flushed cheeks, Victor's scowling countenance.

“What the hell do you think you're doing?” He grabbed the check, staring down at the bunch of zeros before returning slowly to a now-inscrutable Victor.

“Zac,” Emily said calmly. “Your father was just—”

Zac rounded on his father. “Just couldn't help yourself, could you, Dad?”

Victor crossed his arms. “If you just slow down one second, everything can be explained.”

“Maybe you should take this out of the hall.”

Zac whirled at the sound of Cal's voice. He and Ava stood in the doorway holding hands, wearing twin expressions of concern. Behind them, a hushed blanket of whispers spread across the
wedding guests who'd stopped to blatantly stare at this exciting development.

Zac gave a curt nod and strode past them, into the reception area.

He struggled, trying to rein in his fury, but it was a losing battle. The past surged up to scorch his throat with painful, crushing memories and a desperate desire to be free of Victor's suffocating influence.

The doors closed, underscoring the moment with finality.

“I've had enough of secrets. He,” Zac stabbed Victor with an accusing finger, “was offering money to Emily. A lot of money.”

Emily gasped. “Just what are you implying?”

Zac raised one eyebrow, glaring at Victor. “Why don't you tell them, Dad?”

“Zac…” Cal warned.

He ignored his brother, instead turning to Emily. “Were you going to take it?”

Are you completely insane?
Her wide-eyed stare mirrored that thought, her mouth dropping for one second, just before she snapped it closed and placed her hands on her hips.

“What do
you
think?”

Of course not.
He pulled his back straight, struggling with the dark ghosts of his past, but the automatic answer on his tongue was a second too late.

“You,” she breathed, giving him a glacial look, “are an idiot, Zac Prescott.”

With supreme dignity she turned on her heel and strode for the door.

Zac swallowed in disbelief.
What have you done?
“Emily. Wait.”

As Cal opened the door, she turned back to him, eyes eerily calm, expression neutral. “You need to deal with your family, Zac.”