Page 19 of Savage Romance
In a few hours, the hotel would be bustling with tourists, businesspeople, and dinner guests. But work wasn’t what had Zoe hiding out in her office. She took a hefty gulp of the coffee and suppressed a muttered oath when the too hot liquid scalded her palate and tongue.
But the pain was good. It distracted her from her guilt trip. Deliberately, she took another gulp before setting the cup on her desk like it was as fragile as her insides and could fracture on impact.
Pacing her office, she muttered to herself, “So, think, girl. If your husband isn’t the type to be responsible for driving Michael into an early grave, then who is?” Byron Nolan seemed capable, but she didn’t know the man well enough. After spending over six months of hunting for information before she even arrived in Kansas City, she hadn’t come any closer to discovering more about her brother’s death. The authorities had ruled suicide as the cause, but a person didn’t kill himself over nothing. “He wasn’t depressed or crazy.”
The sound of her own voice in the quiet office startled Zoe, and she chuckled.
I might be going crazy, though, talking out loud to myself.
Maybe, she should stop looking at her husband for the answers she wanted and widen her search. She wasn’t ready to let go of her quest, and she needed to find the people who drove her brother into his grave. If it hadn’t been Dennehy then it had to be somebody else, and they would pay.
Maybe not with their lives, like Michael has done, but pay they will.
Chapter Fourteen
New Year’s Eve arrived much faster than Zoe anticipated, and she still wasn’t any closer to finding out more about her brother’s death. Her lack of progress on the matter derived from her being busy with the hotel plus getting used to being Mrs. Dennehy and partly because she hadn’t been delving deep into the matter lately.
She accepted Ben’s hand as he helped her out of the Jaguar himself and took a moment to steady herself on her four-inch Louboutin heels. Behind the red-carpet entry, sleek sports cars, limousines, and other expensive vehicles queued up in a semi-circle.
With a grateful nod, she accepted Ben’s arm and carefully strode forward. When the personal shopper suggested the velvet column gown by Sachin & Babi, Zoe had balked at first. Now noticing the other ladies wearing exquisite dresses with dazzling jewelry, and men in tuxedoes, she was more than happy for her black outfit with silver floral sequins on the skirt.
At the entrance of the high-rise building, a tall, handsome—despite the scars marring his face—man with a commanding bearing, and a stunningly beautiful blonde in a soft pink satin dress greeted the guests as they entered. Zoe recognized the man as Byron Nolan and gathered the woman beside him had to be his wife, Charlotte.
Zoe’s spine straightened as her heels sank into the red carpet as they neared the other couple. Although nervous about this event, she was anticipating meeting this other ruthless businessman, who might have been—
Her thoughts halted when Ben squeezed her hand and introduced her to the host and hostess. After a few polite words, they had to move forward, to let more incoming guests enter.
A short elevator ride later, they arrived at the tenth floor. Pleasant classical music flittered in the air, and her high heels clicked against the marble floors as she and Ben exited the car. Where Ben’s hotel had a modern and inviting character, Nolan House was a posh environment with expensive décor, gleaming chandeliers, and tall tables for guests to gather around. Although beautiful, Zoe preferred the less pretentious style of the hotel. She inhaled deeply through her nose, and smelled furniture polish, candles, and fresh flowers. A waiter in a white tux offered them champagne, and Zoe accepted the flute with a gracious smile.
People mingled and talked, but Ben stayed at her side for which she was grateful. So was she for the supporting hand around her upper arm or occasionally at the small of her back. People moved past them, their dress shoes squeaking on the clean floors.
After a couple of minutes, her heart rate settled, and she tipped her head up at Ben. “Thank you.”
A surprised smile flashed on his face. “For what?”
“For giving me time to adjust.”
“Oh that.” His hand slid around her hip and pulled her closer to him. “This is an overwhelming lot, and I understand this isn’t your usual crowd. You handle people better than well in a business environment, but I noticed you find it hard to socialize.”
He had noticed that? The idea that Ben studied her this close was both heartwarming and disconcerting.
She forced a cheery expression on her face. “Well, let’s see if I can handle socializing with this posh gathering, shall we?”
He bent forward and brushed a soft kiss over her lips, before holding out his arm in an old-fashioned, cordial gesture. Despite her anxiety, Zoe laughed, slid her hand over his muscled forearm, and allowed him to lead her into the dining hall.
Inside the large room with floor-to-ceiling windows, the décor was even more stunning. In the right corner of the room, Zoe spotted a woman at a grand piano and a cellist. Their version of Alan Walker’s Darkside was hauntingly beautiful. She swallowed, as snippets of the lyrics fluttered against her brain and her conscience.
We’re not in love.
Okay, so that might not apply to her anymore.
We share no stories.
True, she was still hiding the truth from Ben. Note to self: add telling Ben about Michael to my New Year’s resolutions. Because she couldn’t wait for the truth but was running out of time. Just as the lyrics said.
The song ended and the duo switched to Numb by Linkin’ Park.
Oh yes, much better, she thought wryly and diverted herself by studying the ice sculpture at the center of the room.
