When Zayn returned a moment later, armed with two cocktail glasses. He met no one in the room but could see the white lights coming from the bathroom. Going out to the balcony of the room, he slid the glasses gingerly onto the table and returned to the room. Zayn was still his usual calm demeanor, with a hand in his pocket, even if the whole of his body trembled with need. Still, he had always had such great control, and no matter how hard this was, he knew he didn’t want to cross that line with Rina.
When he had asked her to be his wife, the intention was to use that to get the subsidiary firm from his father, and then divorce her in five years. Any other thing that Zayn termed unnecessary could complicate the arrangement, and he had seen enough complications with Nathan that he had come to detest the mere appearance of it.
Knocking on the door, he pushed it open slightly and leaned on the doorframe. Her body was covered with the suds in the water, but Zayn had memorized every inch of her curve that it was hard to wipe it off his head. He knew how firm and perky her boobs were, how the small of her waist continued softly into a slope until it curved out into her hips, how flat her stomach was, and how much black lacy lingerie looked like it was made specially for her.
“I brought the martini,” he said, not bothering to take any more steps that would bring him further into the bathroom. “I left it out on the balcony. I think you could use a little air tonight.”
Rina nodded, the soap suds dancing precariously on her neck the same neck he had his lips on a few minutes ago. Pulling his eyes away from that spot, he cleared his throat noisily and urgently thought of something to say. The silence was comforting; too comforting. And Zayn couldn’t trust what else could happen.
“The last time I walked in on you,” he started casually, not minding the images that it was sure to bring to their heads. “You were in the tub as well.” Zayn nudged to the shower shrouded by tall glass doors. “You don’t use that, do you?”
Rina shook her head. “I found bathing to be a relaxing part of my day when I got scouted. After a busy schedule that left my feet all cramped up, I anticipated going into my tub and just shutting my eyes, allowing the aroma of the scented candles to loosen up my tensed nerves, along with soft music from the speakers. It has worked for me through the years.”
Zayn looked around the space, noting the unlit scented candles and the speaker on one of the holders. She wasn’t using either of them now, and even though Zayn would expect that tonight was the perfect time to put them to use after what had happened that day, he didn’t ask any questions. A tiny voice in his head told him it probably had something to do with his presence, but he killed it immediately.
“I prefer the shower,” Zayn drawled, wrapping his hands across his chest. “I think more in there, and I like to hear the sound of water running.”
“Why are we sharing bathroom stories, Mr. Graham?” Rina asked, taking Zayn by surprise. It took a second or two, accompanied by a loud silence before Zayn gathered his thoughts.
“I need to know more about my intending wife, don’t I?” he replied, even though it was far from his real reasons. “You might be asked questions like these in an interview. You know we have to keep up a public appearance, don’t you?”
He didn’t give her the time to reply before muttering, “I’ll be out on the balcony. Join me when you’re ready.”
Sauntering away and closing the door behind him, Zayn released a breath he had no idea he’d been holding, before pushing the glass away and stepping out into the night. He pulled out a chair and plopped into it, retrieving his phone from his pocket. Earlier, he’d noticed that Rina had left hers in the closet, perhaps not wanting to burden herself with everything going on on the internet. But Zayn went straight for the tabloids, going through the released articles, interviews, and comments. Almost everyone seemed to have a unifying voice about the incident of that day. Even though it had previously seemed like the country was beginning to forget all about Rina and her accusations, albeit still blacklisted, all it had taken was the fashion show to bring everything back to the fore.
Some articles were nasty, reiterating the fact that Scottsdale and the entertainment industry were right to have blacklisted Rina Powers since it looked like she was never going to change. The author went about weaving a web of intricate lies about how she’d seen Rina approach Joel after the panel session Zayn had been invited to speak at. A picture had been taken to that effect and was made the sole image of the article, sure to draw any reader in.
The author had gone ahead to speculate that it was probably when Rina decided to sleep her way through to get into Joel’s fashion house, and as such, that made him a victim and that he needed to be checked on, rather than being boycotted.
Zayn didn’t hear Rina coming, but the scent of the lavender in the air made him quickly place his phone face down on the table. She chuckled as she stepped out, covered in a huge bathrobe, and barefooted, with her face scrubbed clean. Rina looked younger and very vulnerable as she settled into the love seat alone, and even though he felt this pressing urge to protect her from the world, Zayn knew she was far from vulnerable.
“Why did you put your phone away that fast?” She asked quietly, grabbing the glass in front of her.
“The comments are nasty.”
“I’ve been through it before.” Rina shrugged. “And I can do it again. Besides, wouldn’t it have been strange if they had welcomed me with open arms?”
“Still.”
“I am fine, Zayn. ”
“Even while I’m away?”
“What?”
“Mia called while I went to get the cocktail. I’m needed in China again and I don’t know when I’ll be back.”