Chapter 23
When Zoe got to her feet, it was as if she had run a marathon. There was nothing left in her. Archer stood up too, but with her wobbly legs, she was incapable of walking a straight line, her body threatening to topple over. Her only option was a long L-shaped couch in her direct line of sight
Her body fell on it and she lay there for a moment, sinking into the cushions. She knew Archer still had the phone, but she felt too tired now to even ask for it. Even too tired to cry. Worry dampened every remaining emotion, and her body wasn’t even reacting anymore. Was she in shock? If she had the energy, she would have laughed. Instead, using the last remaining bit of energy, Zoe turned onto her side, facing the back of the couch and curled into the tightest ball she could manage.
For a moment, she heard Archer behind her, but there was no way she could move now. Apart from closing her eyes, her body could only pump blood and breathe. Breathing in and breathing out, over and over again. Too bad her brain couldn’t shut the fuck up.
Voices blurred into an almost deafening level. Finch, Gabrielle, Archer, Lance, Beatrice, Lucas, her father... His angry voice was the loudest. He was always angry at her. There was nothing she could ever do to make him happy. Day in and day out, Zoe had taken on the role of a mouse, making herself as invisible as possible. It didn’t stop the beatings. Nor her perfect grades. Only when one of her teachers told him about her amazing talents with puzzles and languages. That’s when his attitude changed from annoyed to interested. And there was little Lucas, crying.
Then she was fleeing for her life. Barefoot, her lungs burning, barely seeing in front of her, the sky overcast and lights dimming as her house disappeared in the distance. Constantly looking backward, she stumbled several times until a car screeched to a halt and pain radiated through her left side. A woman with red hair, came rushing, worry and desperation on her face. Words were difficult to get out, but the girl was pleading not to go back again.
Zoe opened her eyes with the phantom pain still radiating in her side and her heart beating fast, as if she had just run for her life. Sweat pouring from her, her body couldn’t move as fear froze her muscles. After a moment concentrating on the light pouring out of the window and the fuzzy white ceiling, her lungs could draw her first deep inhale.
Now that the fog lifted in her brain, the events of the night before came back with a vengeance. She had no problem remembering she had fallen unconscious in the living room. And this was a bedroom. A very luxurious one indeed. Not noticing Archer carrying her here, she must have been deeply asleep.
Her glasses were on the nightstand and beside them, her cell phone was plugged in. Its sight spurred her into gear and she scrambled to see if she had missed a call. Several text messages from Lance, Kai, and Gabrielle, but nothing more. Finch’s silence was both reassuring and unnerving. Did the Hellhound give him the key? There was one last assignment required from her. A bit calmer, she scanned the text messages, mostly from the team. Each of them increasing in urgency. What could she say? To each of them, she wrote that everything was alright, and she would contact them soon. No doubt she would have to face a barrage of questions, but at that instant, Zoe didn’t know what to answer.
Running the palm of her hands over her face, she realized that she was still grimy and clothed, apart from her boots which were nowhere to be seen. Getting to her feet, Zoe winced at her stiff body, but kept moving with a growing urgency to reach the toilet. Lucky for her, the room had an en-suite bathroom. And quite a nice one too. On the counter, just by the shower, was a pile of clothes. After a closer look, Zoe recognized her own things! A few changes of underwear. Another pair of jeans. Two blouses. Two t-shirts. One dress. Who had gone to her apartment? Archer? Was it really that important?
Reaching for a fresh blouse, Zoe scowled at the filthy state of her hands. Avoiding the mirror, she decided to start the shower. As steam billowed, she undid her crooked ponytail, stripped and put her glasses on the counter. The first spray of water was blistering, but she welcomed it. Using the little bottles of shampoo and soap, she scrubbed herself thoroughly. It would have been tempting to stay there a while longer, but as she felt like her old, steady self again, the world had to be faced again.
Dried, dressed in a pair of jeans and dark green t-shirt, she dared to look at her fogged reflection. Pale as a ghost, with a bluish bruise near her temple and dark circles under her eyes, it would take a thick layer of makeup to make her human again. And her scavenger hadn’t thought to bring her makeup kit. Her red hair was clean and falling in soft waves to her shoulders, partially hiding the bruise, and her glasses should camouflage the rest.
Turning away, she pocketed the cell phone, pushed back her shoulders and went to find Archer.
Opening the bedroom door, it was the smell of melted butter and toast that made her mouth water, and all she had to do was follow her nose to the kitchen.
Archer was at the kitchen island, dressed in dark charcoal pants and vest with a dark blue shirt rolled up on his arms. The man was the image of the modern business conqueror, and seeing him, a spatula in one hand, his phone in the other, made her smile. An unexpected image of domesticity. Another of the innumerable facets of the man.
It seemed that what was on the phone distracted him too much, and Zoe had to intervene to save what was in the pan.
Before he could react, Zoe grabbed the spatula and saved the eggs from burning.
“Hey, I had it covered!”
Zoe turned down the stove and added a little bit of butter to salvage what was left. “Yeah, if the recipe is burned omelet sticking to the pan.” She scrapped up what hadn’t stuck to the bottom. “Care to give me a plate?”
Arching an eyebrow at her command, he finally turned and opened a cupboard. He handed her one big plate and turned to butter the toast. Well, very dark pieces of bread. With a small mountain of eggs and three pieces of burned toasted, she went to sit at the breakfast bar. Archer poured himself some coffee.
“You aren’t going to eat?”
Coming back with a mug in each hand, he handed her one and leaned against the island. “I’ve been up for hours already, preparing for tonight’s event.”
Reality hit her full force, her fork hanging in mid-air. “How’s Ellen? Do you have news?”
“She’s like a war tank. I told her to rest, that everything was running smoothly, but she wouldn’t hear about it. She’s at the venue supervising the last details with the event planning company. Eat.”
Her fork full of eggs still inches from her mouth, she turned to Archer. “I... we haven’t discussed what you want me to do. The evening, tomorrow’s last negotiation round.” Frowning, a name jumped to her mind. “What about Udi Al-Aamri? You haven’t had a formal negotiation day with him.”
Archer sipped his coffee, his eyes on her. “So many questions. Eat, now.”
Distracted, Zoe didn’t hear him and put her fork down. Sighing, he sat on the stool beside her and took a bite of his toast. He chewed and looked at her plate and at her before shaking his head. Grabbing her fork, he scooped eggs and brought it to her mouth. The action was so strange, she put a hand on his wrist. The skin to skin contact was electric, the same as when he’d first touched her. Despite everything that had happened between them, the secrets, it was still there, their connection, intact, reflected in his eyes too. But with all that had happened, she quickly removed her hand, as if burned. It wouldn’t be fair for him, when he learned everything she had done, it wouldn’t be lust that heated his gaze anymore.
“When is the last time you ate, Zoe?”
Her mind tried to search for it and failed. Unmoving, Archer waited for her to open her mouth. When she did, he fed her, and her stomach growled in contentment. At least it made him smile. When he scooped more eggs, she shook her head.
“I can eat by myself.”
