Emma gave a wry smile. Did he have no inkling that inside her heart was breaking—knowing that tomorrow she’d be on that air-bus over the Atlantic, jetting out of his life for good?
‘Very pleased,’ she answered coolly. ‘I don’t imagine you’ll have much trouble filling it with prospective brides and grooms. Oh …’ Emma’s voice momentarily trailed off as she saw a woman entering the ballroom—her dramatic black hair and eye-catching scarlet opera coat commanding instant attention from the other guests. ‘Isn’t that Leda?’
Zak turned his head to see the tiny brunette making her way towards them. ‘So it is.’
‘Zakharias!’ The brunette embraced him in a flurry of smiles and scarlet silk. ‘This is more beautiful than I ever dared wish for! A triumph!’
‘Then it is Emma Geary you must thank, for it is all her work.’
Leda’s dark eyes were turned towards Emma and a faint frown of recognition appeared on her brow. ‘Ah, yes—I thought I recognised you. You’re the woman who was in the restaurant that night in London, with Nat, aren’t you? How is Nat?’
Emma felt a telltale flush of something which felt like guilt wash over her skin. What would Leda say if she knew the truth—that she had spurned Nat’s advances, only to jump straight into bed with Zak? Would she think that she had betrayed and compromised both brothers by her actions? ‘He was fine last time I heard from him,’ she said truthfully. ‘Though that was ages ago.’
‘He’s probably busy with work,’ said Zak, his eyes pewter cool as they met hers. ‘And speaking of work, will you excuse me? I think the mayor’s just arriving.’
Emma could have killed him as he walked away, leaving her alone with his ex-girlfriend and a very uncomfortable feeling. He had cleverly made her sound like nothing but an employee to his ex and she wondered why she should find that so hurtful when it was nothing but the truth.
‘Have you known Zakharias for very long?’ Leda was asking.
Emma shrugged as she reluctantly dragged her gaze away from his progress through the admiring hordes of women. ‘Only a matter of months—although it feels like years!’
‘Yes. He does tend to have that effect on people.’
‘Especially women,’ said Emma, the words out of her mouth before she could stop them.
‘Indeed.’ Leda shot her a shrewd look before lowering her voice. ‘And are you in love with him by any chance?’
Slowly, Emma met the other woman’s dark eyes. ‘That’s a very personal question,’ she said in a low voice.
‘I know it is. I ask only because I was once in love with him myself. Me and the rest of the world, probably—though I think I got closer to getting him to commit than anyone else has ever managed.’ She gave a short laugh. ‘I honestly thought my world would end when he walked out of my life, but it didn’t. I survived and met Scott and now we’re going to be married and I couldn’t be happier. Truly.’ Her features softened. ‘That’s what I wanted to tell you, Emma. That there is life after Zakharias Constantinides.’
A waiter bearing canapés interrupted their talk but Emma felt that eating would have choked her—and by the time the waiter had left, Leda had drifted away to talk to someone else.
Emma’s hands curled into two small fists, her thoughts in turmoil as all her forbidden fantasies crumbled to dust around her. Leda had told her nothing that Zak hadn’t already made clear—but she had told her in that woman-to-woman way, which made it impossible to ignore. She felt like a child whose playmate had just informed them there was no such thing as Santa. She didn’t want to spend her last night in New York facing up to the unpalatable truth! She didn’t want to be told that there was life after Zak when all she wanted was to spend her life with him. She’d wanted to hold on to her hopeless dream for one last night …
‘Why so melancholy, chrisi mou?’ Zak’s voice shattered her reverie and she looked up to see his glittering grey eyes fixed on her in question.
‘
Was I? I didn’t mean to be,’ she answered brightly.
His eyes narrowed. ‘What did Leda say?’
‘Nothing I didn’t already know,’ responded Emma.
‘Oh?’
‘Just that, although you were obviously a very hard act to follow, that she really did find happiness with someone else.’
‘Did you tell her we were lovers?’
‘No, Zak. I told you that I wouldn’t breathe a word to anyone and I haven’t. She probably guessed—I’d imagine that ex-lovers are probably very perceptive when it comes to such matters.’
‘Emma—’
‘But she seems to approve of the room,’ she rushed on, cutting through an interjection she had no desire to hear. ‘So at least I can leave New York with the satisfaction of knowing it’s a job well done.’
Zak noticed the sudden acute pallor of her face and for the first time it occurred to him that he could have asked her to delay her departure for a day or two. Couldn’t he have taken her away for a long weekend and said goodbye to her in some sort of style, rather than allowing this somewhat rushed farewell to happen?