Page 26 of Savage Romance
He may have injured his hand, but there was nothing wrong with his mind. Ben shook his head. “I agree we had some lust for each other.”
“You’re sure that’s all it is? Or do you want to convince yourself so badly, you actually believe this?” Charlotte let out a derisive snort and squeezed the washcloth with vigor. A man had to wonder if she wanted to squeeze his balls like that instead. “Your perception of women is so messed up. I don’t know what happened to you.” She held up a dripping hand when he opened his mouth. “Don’t answer that, it isn’t my business, and I don’t need to know, but don’t you think you’re projecting past experiences onto Zoe?”
For a moment her words stunned him silent, but his anger was no less potent. “You have to be kidding me, right?” He glared at the woman and ignored the sting as she washed away more blood. “What part of ‘she’s Michael Connolly’s fucking sister’ did you miss? Aren’t you pissed at her for deceiving us?”
Charlotte dabbed some antibiotic ointment on his wounded knuckles and shrugged. “There are always two sides to a story. Have you asked her to explain?”
Straightening his spine, he pulled his hand from Charlotte’s grip. “What is there to explain? She came to me, to us, under false pretenses. Messed with our heads. Played us!”
“How do you know?”
The hell? He began to struggle to his feet.
She lifted one shoulder and angled her head. “From what I’ve heard you found out she’s related to Connolly, and you threw her to the curb. No questions asked.”
Ben sank back onto the couch from his half-risen position.
“There.” She tossed the washcloth in the bowl and ignored the sloshing water. “Now are you ready to think with your head instead of your heart?”
“Woman, I don’t have a heart.”
Her eyes softened and she pursed her lips. “On the contrary. You have a big heart, maybe even the biggest of the whole lot of you. You’re just afraid to have it broken by a woman.”
Not liking her barb, he stiffened.
Without a word, Charlotte collected the supplies, gathered up the bowl, and stood.
Ben’s shoulders slumped and he stared at his bandaged hand. Somewhere at the edge of his awareness, Byron returned, and Ben could hear the low murmur as he and Charlotte softly conversed. They left Ben alone and gave him room to think, for which he was grateful.
Chapter Nineteen
After Zoe gathered her belongings, she exited the hotel manager’s office with her head down. Her feet dragging, she made her way to the exit.
“Mrs. Zoe?” Even in the soft-spoken name, Conchita placed a wealth of worry and sympathy. The professional in Zoe could only hope the loyal housekeeper thought her manager would be still shaken by the attempted suicide and not suspect anything else.
The hurt woman inside her longed to talk with someone. But no, that would be so wrong.
Conchita blocked Zoe’s path and wrinkled her nose. “Missus?”
Zoe attempted to smile to reassure her employee—make that former employee—but her smile wavered.
Intelligent and kind brown eyes ping-ponged up and down Zoe’s body. Conchita took in Zoe’s posture, the box with belongings, and her avoidance of direct eye contact. The woman in neat housekeeping gear reached out to touch Zoe’s arm then hesitated. “Are… Are you leaving?”
Zoe opened and closed her mouth, struggling to find the right words but nothing came.
Conchita checked left and right in the hallway, swiped her card at the door behind her, and pulled Zoe into the vacant conference room.
Once inside, the energy drained from Zoe. Fighting to hold on to her composure, she placed the box with trinkets on one of the tables and rested her hip beside it.
After closing the door, Conchita leaned her back against the wood and crossed her arms.
Despite her despair, Zoe stifled a laugh. Conchita reminded Zoe of her mother. Although she had been soft-spoken and modest, her mom possessed a backbone of steel and could easily extract the truth from her children as she peeled potatoes.
“I know the business with the young actor was ugly, but I’m sensing there’s more to your leaving than that.”
Zoe sighed. “You’re right. There is, but I can’t talk about this.”
“Does the boss know?”
