His Brand of Passion by Kate Hewitt Page B

she turned and began to gather her things.
    Sure enough, they were speeding uptown in his limo a matter of minutes later, Zoe’s lone suitcase stowed in the back along with her house plant and one of her paintings. Aaron had eyed them askance and Zoe had said rather defiantly that she would not live in his morgue of an apartment without some colour.
    ‘You can call the café where you work and give notice,’ Aaron said, his gaze still on the little luminous screen of his phone.
    ‘Give notice? It’s only a leave of absence.’
    He shrugged. ‘Whatever. Either way I’ll cover the rent on your apartment, so you don’t have to worry about money.’
    Zoe sat back against the seat, a new and different kind of nausea roiling through her. It might as well be her notice, she realised. Molly, the owner of the café, would have to hire a new barista while she was gone, and it wasn’t as if Zoe was so valuable she’d dismiss that person when she was ready to return. Besides, when
would
she be ready to return? The future stretched in front of her, alarmingly unknown.
    ‘I don’t want to just sit around all day,’ she said abruptly and Aaron glanced up from his phone.
    ‘Even if that’s best for the baby?’
    ‘Enough with the emotional blackmail,’ she snapped. ‘I work afternoons as an art therapist, sitting down, very lowenergy. I’m keeping that up.’
    Aaron glanced at her in consideration before turning back to his phone. ‘Fine. I’ll arrange a car to drive you there and return you to my apartment.’
    ‘Thank you,’ she said stiffly, although she wasn’t even sure what she was thanking him for. This
situation
felt uncomfortably like a prison sentence. She’d be let out for a few hours, but then swiftly returned to her cell.
    Yet she’d agreed. She’d willingly put herself in Aaron’shands and, as the limo pulled up to the high rise she hadn’t seen since that fateful night, she wondered why she had.
    They didn’t speak as they rode the lift up to the penthouse and the doors opened directly onto Aaron’s apartment. Zoe walked through the cold, modern rooms and felt a prickling of discomfort lodge between her shoulder blades.
    ‘This brings back memories,’ she said lightly, because not saying it felt ridiculous, like refusing to acknowledge the elephant lumbering alongside them.
    ‘New memories will take the place of those,’ Aaron answered without emotion. ‘Let me show you your bedroom.’
    It was right across from his, and just as sumptuous, with a king-sized bed, a huge plasma-screen TV and an en suite bathroom with a sunken marble tub and walk-in shower. Zoe imagined soaking in that tub and felt some of her reservations start to crumble. It would be heavenly to relax for a little while, to have a break from all the worry and fear.
    ‘Thank you,’ she said, turning to Aaron. He stood in the doorway, dark and unsmiling. ‘This really is very kind of you,’ she continued awkwardly. ‘I’m sorry if I haven’t seemed gracious.’
    ‘It’s a difficult situation. And I haven’t exactly handled myself with aplomb either.’ He set her suitcase down. ‘Why don’t you unpack? I need to return to work but I should be back around dinner time. Order whatever you like. There are menus in the kitchen, and you can just charge it to my name.’
    ‘Okay. Thanks.’
    Then with a nod of farewell he was gone, and Zoe was left alone in the huge, barren apartment, her mind spinning as she wondered just what she’d got herself into.
    She unpacked her few things as Aaron had suggested and then, because she was so tired and the tub looked so heavenly, she ran a huge, steaming bath and sank into the decadent bubbles with a blissful sigh.
    Soaking in the tub she was reminded, suddenly and piercingly, of the night she’d spent with Aaron. After that first time on the rug he’d taken her to the bed, and then to the shower, soaped her everywhere, and then driven himself inside her while she had wrapped her