I swept her into my arms and hurried up the stairs as the hunger between us burned bright, then brighter. Being skin to skin with Zaila was a religious experience—a form of worship. The hunger between us grew with each coupling, as if we cemented the bond Zaila spoke of, and I exulted in it.
After, I held her close, trailing my lips along to her damp temple. “We’ll figure this out, Zaila,” I promised. “Together.”
Chapter 31
Zaila
The next morning dawned bright and clear. I stood in front of the mirror, smoothing down my structured, boiled wool jacket. It was the last item my mother and I had bought together, and the lovely, bold green complemented my black midi dress and pumps. The woman staring back at me looked polished, professional…and overwhelmed.
Managing these events hadn’t bothered me before, so I didn’t understand where this anxiety had come from or why my mind refused to focus on the most basic of tasks. I bit my lip to keep it from quivering.
“You look beautiful,” Gunnar said, appearing behind me. His hands settled on my shoulders, warm and reassuring.
I met his eyes in the reflection. “Gunnar, I... I’m not sure how to act today. Around the team, the donors and media... Should we, I don’t know, keep things professional?”
Hurt flicked across his face before he schooled his features into a neutral expression. “Whatever you’re comfortable with. I won’t pressure you.” He gave me a brief squeeze before he pulled back—much too quickly.
“I just…don’t know when you plan to tell people about us, so…” I wished he’d wrap his arms around me, hold me tight, and refuse to let me go to this meeting.
“It’s on my agenda,” he said, his tone cooler than I wanted. “I plan to deal with it this week.”
“Plan to deal”…like a business transaction. Dread settled, low and noxious, in my belly as we headed to Gunnar’s car. The ride to the arena was quiet as the tension between us rose.
Gunnar squeezed my hand. “Ready?”
No. I wanted him to take me home. I longed to bury my face in his chest. I nodded because I didn’t trust my voice, and after a moment we stepped out into the arena, and all eyes turned toward us.
“Gunnar!” A statuesque blonde in sky-high heels rushed up to air-kiss his cheeks. “We’ve missed you! And who’s this little doll?”
I gritted my teeth even as I wilted under her scrutiny. Gunnar’s hand found the small of my back again, steadying me. Yet he removed it too quickly, and the feeling of falling returned.
“This is Zaila Monroe,” he said, his voice calm and professional—just like I’d asked for. So why did the distance make me feel so bad? “She’s been instrumental in organizing today’s event.”
The collected group’s smiles were polite, but I could see the questions in their eyes. Someone ushered us inside for the press conference before anyone could ask.
The next few hours passed in a blur of flashing cameras, microphones, and answers scripted by the PR department. Gunnar was in his element, charming the reporters with his trademark wit and self-deprecating humor. I stood to the side, clipboard clutched in my white, numb fingers, the perfect picture of an efficient assistant.
I hated every minute.
Sure, I was proud of Gunnar’s calm command of the room, but I longed to be by his side, acknowledged as more than just staff. Yet I’d placed myself in this role. I felt an ever-growing sense of isolation as I realized how impossible it felt to fit into Gunnar’s world.
As the press conference drew to a close, a reporter approached me. “So, Zaila, right? How long have you been working with Gunnar?”
I plastered on a smile. “Oh, just a few months. I’m still learning the ropes.”
She nodded, her eyes sharp. “Must be exciting, working with him. He’s quite the catch, you know.”
Before I could formulate a response, Gunnar appeared at my side. “Ladies, if you’ll excuse us. Zaila and I have some last-minute details to go over before the challenge.”
He guided me away, and as soon as we were out of earshot, he leaned in close. “You okay? You looked like you needed rescuing.”
I laughed, but it turned into a sigh. “My hero. Thanks for the save.”
Gunnar’s eyes searched my face. “Z, if this is too much?—”
“No,” I cut him off. “I’m fine. Really. Just adjusting. Everything…everything is harder.” My voice broke.
“Yeah, I get that. If you need to step back?—”
