A Christmas Vow of Seduction(28)

She was utterly unique. Utterly her.

He drank in the sight of her. Pale skin, dark hair, in that pink and gold dress that made her look like something out of a fairy tale.

But he wasn’t the sort of man who deserved a fairy tale.

He took a step forward. Then another. Then, he began to make his way toward the blonde. Toward temptation.

He was not going to wait for hell to come up and grab him. He would walk and willingly. And he would do it now.





CHAPTER ELEVEN

ZARA HADN’T SEEN Andres for at least fifteen minutes. He had slipped out of the ballroom at some point when she wasn’t looking, and she hadn’t seen him anywhere since. She knew he wasn’t in the room, because she felt the change.

Perhaps that sounded ridiculous, but she could feel his presence. Because it carried such weight. That connection they shared. Years of being alone had made it stronger, she was convinced. Or maybe it was so for everyone in love.

Though when you were the only one in love, perhaps it wasn’t.

She had been sitting at the table in utter silence, trying not to look as distressed as she felt, and probably failing miserably. She took a deep breath, standing, deciding that she was going to go find him now. She wasn’t one to wait. She wasn’t one to play games. And just because he seemed to prefer to operate with a thin veil of deceit between his words and his feelings did not mean she had to do it. She was going to force him to confront this. To discuss it. Because he was telling her lies, she was certain.

He felt more for her, for what they shared, than he claimed. She knew he did.

She strode through the ballroom, quite amazed that the crowd of people parted for her as they seemed to do for Andres. She really was a part of this place now. She was one of them.

Her happiness was dented by the situation she was in. It was very difficult to feel happy when your heart was ground to dust. Another new discovery. Though a rather logical one.

She left the ballroom, exiting the main double doors out the back, and finding herself in the corridor where she and Andres had first made love. She didn’t know what had led her here, but now that she was here, she knew it had been for a reason. This would be where he’d go. She was certain of it.

She rounded the corner from the ballroom, headed toward that alcove where they had first found their passion. And then she heard voices, rustling.

She stopped. Listening for a moment.

Her stomach twisted, sank deep down, terror gnawing at her insides, and still, she walked forward. Because she had to. Because he was there. She knew it.

She took one step, then another, headed toward the alcove. And when she rounded the corner, everything stopped.

It was Andres. And a woman. The woman was wearing a bright red dress, a crimson stain against Andres’s black suit. She was crushed hard against his body. His arms were wrapped tightly around her, his lips pressed hard to hers. He shifted, angling his head, and she saw his tongue slide against hers.

A cry escaped Zara’s lips and she clasped her hand over her mouth. The blonde jumped as though she’d been scalded, but Andres moved slowly, fluidly, raising his head in a lazy, laconic fashion, one eyebrow lifted.

“Zara.” He said her name so blandly. As though he wasn’t surprised. As though he wasn’t sorry. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“Clearly,” she said, her tone vibrating with rage.

“I was a bit bored of the party.”

“Is that what you do when you’re bored at parties? Come out here and have women up against walls?”

“Don’t be dramatic. Obviously I wasn’t having her. Yet.”

The blonde made a coughing sound, her expression irritated. “I didn’t sign on for drama,” she said. “Just a little bit of fun with the prince.”

“Sorry,” Zara said, not feeling sorry at all. “This prince comes with drama. A rather large amount of it. In the form of me.”

“I shall leave you to it.” The woman moved away from Andres, walking closer to Zara. The light fell across her beautiful face, and Zara could see her red lipstick, smudged over to her cheek. That was how passionately he had been kissing her.

She had been wrong earlier. She thought her heart had been broken already. Damage done. But no, there were apparently some pieces left to shatter. To be ground beneath the stiletto of another woman.

It was his fault. Not hers.

That made it even worse.

She waited until the blonde was out of sight before trying to formulate a sentence. She would not give the other woman the satisfaction of hearing how upset she was.

“You lied to me.” The words were low, shaky. She felt as if they had cost her the very last bit of air in her lungs. As if she would pass out from the force it had taken to speak them.

“That’s what I do. I told you. I’m just a selfish playboy. And I’m sorry, but in situations like this I revert to type. I didn’t do it to hurt you.”

“Lies!” The word exploded from her with deadly force. She had suddenly found her strength. As he stood there, looking at her, his expression bland as though he had not just reached inside her chest and reordered all the new, beautiful things she had just discovered, she had found her strength. Her will to stand up to him. Her will to fight.

“You did it to hurt me.”

“Why would I? It’s just that I leave casualties in my wake. It’s what I do.”

“No! It’s what you choose to do!”

“Is there a difference?”

She took a step toward him, feeling fierce. Unafraid. She had nothing to lose. If Andres had been everything, then there was nothing to protect anymore. Because it was all gone.

“It is every difference. You are not at the mercy of this. You have made yourself this. You can blame no one but yourself.”

“I can’t blame the mother who walked out on me and the father who gave up on me?” he asked, his tone even. Far too smooth.

She wanted him broken.

“No. They did not fashion you. You fashioned yourself. You talk of it as though it is part of your legend. An amusing anecdote for you to throw out when it suits you, to put distance between yourself and your accuser. As if I will back away from you if I understand that you’re nothing more than a little boy wishing his mommy would come back and hug him. But I will not,” she said, her voice shaking. “I do not feel sorry for you. Because while your mother left you years ago, and while that certainly hurt you, you have been inflicting wounds upon yourself every day thereafter. That is not her fault. You cannot blame her anymore.”

“The hell I can’t.”

“You are in a hell of your own making! You cannot accept the fact that anyone might stay with you and so you’re intent on pushing everyone who loves you away. Why? Because one woman didn’t love you?”

“The only woman who should have loved me, simply because I was drawing breath, didn’t. That is an entirely different thing. And not only her. My father.”

“So that means you must not be worthy of love? That means that you have to set out to prove that those of us who are foolish enough to care for you are in fact fools? Why do you insist on putting a gun to your own head?”

“I know what I am, that’s all. There is no point in trying to refashion myself in a manner that I am unsuited to.”

“Who says you are unsuited? I have been with you these past weeks and you are suited to me. Until now. Until you dared touch another woman when you swore to me you would not.” Her throat tightened, pain lancing her. “You said that I would be the only one.”

“Yes. And I meant it then. I did. But things change. And that’s the way it is with me. I do not keep my word. I never have.”

“You are a liar.”

“No!” he roared back at her. “It is more than that. I have never kept my word. And in the end? I didn’t even try.”

“What?” The question came out small, weak.

“I told my mother that at the Christmas Eve dinner I would behave myself. That she could allow me out of my room this time. I had made mistakes, so many in years past that my mother had issued a decree I could no longer partake in public events. I could never sit still. I could never listen to instructions. I was a very bad boy. Always. I ruined everything that she did. Every appearance we had to make with the family. She mourned my existence, Zara. My very birth. They should have stopped with Kairos. She knew it. She told me. But that last time...that last time I didn’t even try. I broke my plate on purpose, made a mess of the table setting because I was so angry with her. And when she left I was glad because I would never have to try for her again.”

“Andres...”

“No. Do not look at me with those pitying eyes, Zara. What can you possibly know about it? For years I tried my damnedest. But it was never good enough. So when I stopped trying, I didn’t just stop trying. I did my best to be bad. To move so far past the point of redemption I could never be retrieved from beyond it. That’s the man I am now. I give in freely to my vices. I rejoiced at the loss of my mother because it meant there was no one left to try and control me and I could happily sink into the depths of debauchery. Marry me tomorrow if you want, Zara. But I will never love you. And you will never be able to be certain of my fidelity. How can you be when I will never be certain of it? When I will never do a damn thing to resist my own desires. I spent too many years trying and failing. I would not do it for my mother and I sure as hell won’t do it for you.”