“What’s my ultimate revenge?”
“You know. Please leave so I can….” She didn’t finish that thought, but instead fell asleep, curled up on the floor as if a bed were superfluous and the hard, wood floor was perfect. The wine and sugar combining finally to knock her out, temporarily easing her mind from her desperate situation.
Marco watched as this tiny little woman snuggled down onto what must be a painfully uncomfortable floor. Glancing at the number of empty wine bottles on the coffee table, he suspected that she was out for the night. He glanced at his watch and corrected himself, she was probably out for the next day.
With resignation, he bent down and lifted her into his arms, wondering how a grown woman could weigh so little. He wasn’t exactly sure where her bedroom was, but he suspected it was up the long flight of pine and steel stairs that was somehow attached to the ceiling.
Climbing the stairs, he took advantage of her slumber to notice the smaller details. She’d definitely filled out, he thought as he laid her down onto her bed and unzipped the dynamite looking red dress. No wonder she’d done so well in the clothing business if she wore her own designs. He liked looking at her in this dress almost as much as he liked taking it off of her.
She’d been a teenager when he’d last seen her. As he slid the dress down her shoulders, revealing the almost nothing red bra and underwear, he noted that she was definitely no longer a teenager. She’d filled out in some areas, and shrunk in others. Her breasts were full and more than a handful while her waist was tiny and her stomach contoured in ways that made his mouth water to slide his hand along the length. His hands also itched to see if they could wrap around her little waist, but he didn’t think she’d be very appreciative of his discovery in the morning. Her legs were long and gorgeous and would definitely create some great fantasies, he thought.
When he’d finally pulled the dress down her hips, he covered her sleeping form with the white duvet cover, watching her snuggle into the softness of the mattress.
Glancing at his watch once again, he flipped open his phone and made several calls. An hour later, he had a better idea of what was going on with Zoe Alexander and was both impressed with her brains, ingenuity and smarts and exasperated with her naiveté. How could she have handed over so much control to her accountant? And why no quarterly auditor? That was just standard procedure. Hell, he would do it monthly with Zoe, since she was just too damn trusting.
Grabbing her house keys, he made sure that her door was locked up before he left the building. Out of curiosity, he went down to the work rooms below and took a look around, skimming through her designs and was impressed with everything he saw.
She wasn’t going to like the deal he was going to offer her, but she’d take it. Or she’d lose all of this and he wasn’t going to let that happen.
Chapter 2
The pain in her head was unrelenting and Zoe tried to cover her eyes, hoping that it was the light streaming down on her that was causing her all the pain. When even the darkness hurt, she thought it would be better if she woke up and solved the problem more thoroughly. But then she moved, and Zoe knew that solving any problems right at the moment was out of the question.
Memories of the night before came back to her slowly. And then the events of the day and she groaned, wishing the pain throbbing in her head would break through the torment she was feeling over the failure of her business.
The noises downstairs hurt her head and she wanted to yell at whoever was making so much noise, but the effort was too painful. Besides, it was probably Debbie who was in the same situation she was in.
Then Zoe remembered that Debbie had left. Her husband had arrived to pick her up and take her home. Leaving her here with….
No, Marco couldn’t be here. There was no way he’d found her and was here in her loft. Wishful thinking, she persuaded herself. Or not so wishful thinking, considering how they’d left things so many years ago. The last time she saw him, the day after their devastating kiss that had rocked her world completely, he’d been standing at his father’s poolside, with another woman draped across him and laughing at whatever that ugly witch had been saying.
“Are you getting up?” a deep voice called from below her.
Zoe opened her eyes and looked around. That definitely wasn’t Debbie’s voice.
She lifted her head, cringing from the pain that movement caused and laid her head down. She’d just been imagining someone calling to her. Or maybe Debbie was sick and her throat sounded funny. They’d started singing along with Sinatra at some point during the night, which would account for why her own throat was so sore.
“The aspirin is down here on the counter. Come on down and get it. Coffee is ready as well.”
Coffee sounded extremely good, but why did she have to go all the way down there to get it?
Well, since she wasn’t sure who was in her loft, it was a crazy thing to want them to bring her coffee up here to her bedroom.
She tried to swing her legs over the side of her bed, then decided against it, preferring the stranger downstairs to bring her the coffee rather than her coming down there to get it. The last option just wasn’t happening right now.
“Zoe, if you don’t come down here and get some coffee, I’ll bring it to you. But I’m not sure if I can resist those very tempting pieces of nothing you were wearing underneath that dress last night. If you want to risk it, I’m all for it.”
Zoe gasped and looked down underneath the covers. Sure enough, she was wearing only her red lace bra and underwear.
That realization overcame her need to not move. In fact, she moved very quickly, grabbing her robe from the top of the chair beside her bed where she’d put it yesterday morning after her shower. Sliding her arms into the sleeves, then standing up and belting the robe closed, she peered down over the side of the bedroom area.
Since the kitchen was directly underneath her bedroom area, and everything was open, she couldn’t see anything into her kitchen without toppling over the iron balustrade.
She’d have to venture downstairs to find out if….
No, she didn’t want to know. Stepping backwards, she moved into the bathroom and closed the door. Looking at her face in the mirror she was horrified at her appearance. Between the crying, the drinking and sleep, her mascara was smeared underneath her eyes, she had no more lipstick on, and her hair looked like someone had styled it with a blender and then stuck her finger in an electric socket. Her skin was painfully pale and her head was still pounding.