It was a six months she’d done a very good job of scrubbing from her mind. Like every other inconvenient detail in her past, it had been chucked into her mental closet, the door locked tight. It was where every juicy secret belonged. Behind closed, difficult-to-access doors.
But now it was all coming back. Her fourth year in Spain, when she’d been accepted into a coveted internship at Vega Communications. Everything had been going so well. She’d started making connections, learning how things worked at a massive corporation.
Then one day, the boss’s son had called her into his office and closed the door.
Then he’d told her he’d done a little digging and found out her real name. That she wasn’t Hannah Weston from Manhattan, but that she was Hannah Hackett from Arkansas. That she hadn’t graduated top of her class, but that she had no diploma at all.
And then, with supreme, enraging arrogance he had leaned back in his chair; hands behind his head; humor, mocking, glittering in his eyes, and he’d told her that her secret would be safe.
If she would marry him.
That sickening, surreal moment when she’d agreed, because there was nothing in the world that could compel her to lose the ground she’d gained.
Eduardo stepped aside and she breezed past him, leaving her suitcase for him to handle. Things were rearranged. His furniture new, but still black and sleek. The appliances in his kitchen were new, too, as was the dining set.
But the view was the same. Cathedral spires rising above gray brick buildings, touching the clear sky. She’d always loved the city.
She’d hated Eduardo for forcing her into marriage. Had hated herself nearly as much for being vulnerable to him, for needing to keep her secrets so badly.
And then she’d moved into his home, and she’d started to think the forced marriage wasn’t so bad after all. It was so expansive, plush, and refined. Like nothing she’d ever experienced.
Secretly, shamefully, she’d loved it. As long as she could ignore the big Spaniard that lived there, too, everything was wonderful. Comfortable.
She’d made it into school, but she was still living on a meager budget. And Eduardo had shown her luxury she’d never seen before. She’d thought she’d known. She hadn’t. Her imagination hadn’t even scratched the surface of what true wealth meant. Not until she’d met the Vega family.
It had given her something to aspire to.
“Everything looks … great.” Surreal. She’d never gone back to a place before. When she left, she left. Her childhood home, Spain, her place in New York.
“Updated a bit. But your room is still available.”
“Haven’t had any other temporary wives in my absence?”
“No, unlike some people I think having more than one spouse at a time is a bit too ambitious.”
“Yes, well, you know it wasn’t my intention to have more than one,” she bit out, a sour feeling settling in her stomach. “Zack was decent, you know.” She eyed the open door, and her suitcase, still occupying their position in the hall. “He was one of the few truly good people I’ve ever met. I hate that I did this to him.”
“Have you been in contact?”
“No.”
“Perhaps you should …?”
She clenched her teeth. “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea. Anyway, he hasn’t called me, and he didn’t come by my house, so, maybe he doesn’t care.” That actually hurt a little.
“If he thinks you’re missing, he may send out a search party. I didn’t think you wanted to publicize our marriage. Or rather, why you ran out on your wedding. It doesn’t matter either way to me.”
She swore and took her phone from her purse. “Fine. But Shelby did go and speak to him.” She bit her lip and looked down at the screen. Still no calls from him, and she’d been sort of hoping there would have at least been one. There was a text from Shelby.
“And have you heard from him?”
“No.” Strange. But she couldn’t really imagine Zack playing the part of desperate, jilted groom. Decent he was, but the man had pride. She opened the text from Shelby and her heart plummeted. “Zack wasn’t at the hotel when she arrived.”
“So he still hasn’t heard from you at all.”
She clutched the phone tightly against her chest. Eduardo was watching her far too closely. She needed a moment. Just a moment.
“Why don’t you bring my bags in?” she asked.
Dark eyes narrowed, but he walked over to the entry and pulled her bags just inside the door, shutting it behind him.
She bit her lip and looked back down at her phone.
“Scared?” he asked.
“No,” she muttered. She opened up the message screen and typed in Zack’s name, her fingers hovering over the letters on the touch screen as she watched the cursor blink. She really didn’t know what to say to him. “Nothing about this in the chivalry handbook?” she asked.
Eduardo crossed his arms over his broad chest and leaned against the back of the couch. “I think we both have to accept that we’re on the wrong side of honor at this point in time.”
“Good thing I never gave honor much thought,” she said.
Except she was now. Or at least giving thought to what a mess she’d made out of Zack’s life. She growled low in her chest and shot Eduardo one last evil glare.
I’m so sorry about the wedding, Zack.
She let her thumb hover over the send button and then hit it on a groan.
“What did you tell him?”
“Nothing really yet.” She pulled up another text window.
I met someone else. I—She paused for a moment and looked at Eduardo. If she’d been speaking, she would have gagged on the next word.—love him.
She closed her eyes and hit Send. Let him think that emotion had been in charge. She and Zack were both so cynical about love … he might even find it funny. That had been the foundation of their relationship really. Zack had wanted a wife, the stability marriage would bring. But he wanted a wife who wouldn’t bother him about his long working hours, and who didn’t want children. Or love.
They’d been so well suited.
“There. I hope you’re happy. I just ruined things with my best bet for a happy ending.”
“You said you didn’t love him,” Eduardo said.
“I know. But I like him. I respect him. How often do you get that in a marriage?”
“I don’t know. I’ve only ever had separate bedrooms and blackmail in my marriage. What excuse did you give him?”
“I told him how much I loved you, dearest,” she bit out.
He chuckled. “You always were an accomplished little liar.”
“Well, I don’t feel good about this one.”
“You felt good about the others?”
She truly didn’t know the answer. “I … I never thought about how I felt about it. Just about whether or not it was necessary. Anyway, I don’t lie as a matter of course.”
“You just lie about really big things infrequently?”
“Every job application has started with questions about college. Didn’t