Page 7 of 2 Books in One Bundle

The lift arrived and in he stepped.

Could he be getting old?

No. He was in his prime. At the height of success with a lifestyle that he knew many envied.

The flurry of invitations to weddings and christenings he’d received recently suggested that the people around him were moving on, but he was fine exactly where he was. He wanted a wife and kids like a hole in the head. Even if hehadpossessed the necessary skill set to maintain a relationship, which he did not, why anyone would willingly put their emotions out there to be dismissed at best and destroyed at worst was completely beyond him.

Only once had he made the mistake of letting someone get too close. He’d met Valentina at a party on Zakynthos at the age of nineteen, and had instantly been dazzled. They’d dated for six months, during which he’d tried to give her what she wanted and to form the kind of attachment others seemed to have no trouble achieving, even introducing her to his siblings. But ultimately he’d failed because, as she’d told him when she’d been breaking up with him, he was emotionally void, in possession of a heart of stone and incapable of giving anything of himself to anyone, other than his body.

That experience had left him feeling wounded and bewildered. It had dredged up memories of his youth and stirred feelings of inadequacy that he’d believed he’d conquered long before. Determined to never have to go through anything like that again, hating the weakness and pain it had caused, he’d vowed to remain alone and untouchable, strong and safe. And by keeping his emotions buried and his defences up, he had. Successfully. For years.

So meaningless one-night stands that scratched an itch but never probed any deeper? Great. Love and commitment? Very much not.

Most probably it was the time of year that was making him feel so unsettled, he figured, shrugging on his coat as the lift began its smooth, silent descent. He’d never liked Christmas with its emphasis on festivity and family. He couldn’t remember a time the members of his had celebrated it all together. His mother had always jetted off in early December in search of winter sun and unencumbered fun, and still did. His father, before his fatal heart attack eighteen years ago, had believed that children should be seen and not heard and had therefore spent as little time as possible in their company—with the exception of Leo, the heir to the family business—even on Christmas Day. Zander had invariably spent the holidays kicking around the mansion in Athens with the five siblings he increasingly failed to understand and the two nannies, stuffing his face withkourabiedesand wondering where the jollity was.

The lift came to a sibilant stop at the ground floor, putting the brakes on his turbulent thoughts not a moment too soon. The doors opened and he was immediately hit by the not unpleasant scent of a wintry forest, courtesy of the thirty-metre Nordic spruce being craned into place in the centre of the lobby, and a faintly desperate female voice coming from the reception area which stopped him in his tracks and froze him to the spot.

‘Hehasto be here. I read there was a board meeting today. Where else would he be?’

His pulse leapt. His breath caught. He recognised that voice. The last time he’d heard it, it had been panting in his ear, begging him to go harder, faster, deeper. He recognised the red-gold hair too, rippling out from beneath a navy bobble hat. He could still recall the silky feel of it tangled around his fingers and sweeping over his skin.

Mia.

A woman who irritatingly refused to remain in the past and continued to haunt his dreams.

What was she doing here?

Why was she looking for him?

Catching his eye, the receptionist gave a subtle nod in the direction of the security guard and raised her eyebrows in silent question. Zander shook his head because avoidance might have been his parents’ style but it certainly wasn’t his, and already Mia was attracting attention.

He strode across the white marble floor towards the woman who’d turned out to be infinitely more disturbing than he’d ever envisaged. In response to the receptionist’s gesture, she spun on her heel and, as her gaze collided with his, it occurred to him belatedly that he should have spent those few frozen moments bracing himself for her impact. While he vividly recalled every detail of what they’d once done to each other, he’d forgotten how breathtaking she was in the flesh.

‘Aha!’ she said, flashing him a dazzling smile that struck him like a blow to the gut. ‘Finally! You’re a hard man to track down, Zander Stanhope. Did you block my number?’

He had. He’d had to. The night they’d spent together had rocked his world. So much so that he’d forced himself to leave before she woke up and tempted him to stay for a week, a month, for ever.

Not that that had put an end to his bizarre fixation with her. He’d lost count of the times he’d considered calling her up and inviting her over for more. On one particularly alarming occasion his finger had hovered over her name for several seconds before a warning signal had sounded in his brain, reminding him of his once-only policy, and snapped him out of it. Deleting her details hadn’t been enough. He couldn’t risk her contacting him, weakening, and all those buried emotions and bizarre doubts stirring again. He’d had to go nuclear.

‘It was nothing personal,’ he said, directing her behind a wall of greenery that would afford them a small degree of privacy.

‘Soyouthink.’

‘I apologise.’

‘I don’t believe you mean that,’ she said with disconcerting perception. ‘Do you get personal with any of the women you sleep with?’

‘No.’ Not these days.

‘Too many of them to bother with?’

Quite the opposite. In fact, he hadn’t taken anyone to bed since Mia. Over a month ago. Which, come to think of it, perhaps explained his restlessness. ‘Something like that.’

‘So you block them,’ she said with a rueful shake of her beautiful head. ‘Harsh. Nevertheless, I wish you’d kept me in your phone. I’ve been trying to contact you since Thursday. I’ve sent you countless emails and texts and left numerous voicemails. You haven’t made it easy.’

That had been the plan.

But why had she wanted to contact him? And why since Thursday? Had she been as affected by what they’d done as he had? Could she not stand the frustration any longer? He ignored the quick surge of his pulse at the thought of it and refocused.

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