Choices That Bind Them

"You have fire. I like that. You're going to need some of it should you fail to bag a rich husband. Seat."

"Wha—at?"

"Seat," he repeated.

"Oh, go to--"

"Seat down Amelia!" Her father barked. She directed her startled gaze at him, tongue glued to the roof of her mouth when she took in his appearance. His necktie had been eased back from his throat roughly, top buttons of his shirt undone, hair disheveled and eyes filled with desperate anger.

Zaki waved her down into the chair and leaned back. "It's healthy to hear a little criticism now and again." He smiled again. "I can't remember the last time anyone raised their voice in my presence." Particularly, he could have added, when it came to women. As if a switch had been turned on in his head, he suddenly keenly noted the fading pinkness in her cheeks. Her hair had fallen forward and was now spread over her shoulders, falling like spun silk over her breasts, and down to her waist. She was regaining some of her lost composure but her breasts were still heaving.

He was shocked by the sudden responsive stirring in his loins. God, he had a girlfriend! An extremely clever, very high-powered girlfriend. One who he loved desperately. One for whom he would move mountains. Freya was diametrically, radically, and dramatically the opposite of the elfin creature with the big blue eyes sitting opposite him. He dropped his gaze to his whiskey.

A full minute of silence followed.

"Under different circumstances," He finally whispered, "I would've enjoyed the prospects of taming you through marriage, but no. I would never marry you, Miss Rodriguez. You're a liability." He pushed back his chair and walked away.

"No, no, no, no," She yelled after him. "It's I who wouldn't marry a fucking scum like you, Zaki! Zaki Omidyar? What kind of made-up name is that?!"