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       Nineteen

      “Excuse me?” The high-pitched squeal in her voice would have mortified Vivian if she’d been more aware of it.

      “You heard me,” Sloan said, enjoying Vivian’s distress. His eyes remained on her, but his senses were searching out Ziara’s reactions to his presence. Now, just like the first time, she distracted him. Everything that made him a man told him to end this argument so he could sweep her away to a back room somewhere. But it was too soon for that.

      Too much unfinished business between them.

      “Oh no, Sloan. You left of your own accord,” Vivian said.

      “I prefer to think of it as a vacation.”

      The frustration reddening her face wasn’t pretty. “That’s simply semantics. It won’t hold up in court.”

      “Wanna bet? Besides, I’m pretty sure Patrick will testify that I’ve been in touch with him over the past few days about final details. In my opinion, that counts.” Thank goodness for Patrick’s pestering. “This is simply a courtesy notice. I’ll see you on the stage later.” With a wink at his friend and Ziara, he turned toward the stage exit.

      “So you decided you believed the little slut after all? What did she do, beg you to take her back?”

      Sloan halted in midstride. He heard Ziara’s gasp behind him, but forced himself to focus on Vivian alone. If she wanted to do this out in the open, let her hang herself with her own rope.

      She kept right on talking. “I didn’t count on that idealistic streak of your father’s running through you as well, so the sexual harassment angle was definitely the way to go. I guess love didn’t mean much in the face of prosecution.”

      Sloan pivoted slowly, his body tensing into standard negotiation mode. He’d thought the hardest part of regaining his father’s company would be bluffing his way back into the deal. He’d never imagined Vivian would admit to having met Vera Divan first.

      Ziara stood directly in his line of vision, her eyes trained on Vivian. Her olive skin now held a pale undertone and her gaze was hazy, unfocused, as she absorbed a blow he should have protected her from.

      Patrick stepped in this time. “How did you even get Vera Divan to approach Sloan?”

      “People like that will do anything for money, unlike us.” Vivian kept speaking, digging the hole deeper and deeper. “She’s just the daughter of a whore, Sloan. Or are you finally ready to sink to their level? Your mother’s lower-class roots making themselves known.”

      That was all he needed. Stalking across the floor, he leaned in, dwarfing her with his size and his anger. His voice, when he spoke, was cool and deadly, but Vivian didn’t seem to notice. “Actually I’m back here because my father’s idealism runs strong through my veins. I want his dream to grow and thrive, not become some kind of shrine to the marriage you wanted but could never have. You always knew you were second-best, which is why you turned my father against me.”

      “You were simply a reminder of her, all free spirit and no responsibilities. The memories are what kept him from moving forward. He could have loved me just as much, given time.”

      “But there just wasn’t enough time for you to mold him into what you wanted, was there?” Sloan asked, his breath speeding up as he remembered the pain of the wedge Vivian drove between them. “As for Ziara, watch how you speak about her,” he said. “She’s not the daughter of a whore. She’s a strong woman, who inspires me to be the person my father wanted me to be. She’s worked hard to get where she is. She chose respectability when she could have given up, followed in her mother’s footsteps. That’s an example of refinement you’ll never understand.”

      Vivian’s eyes widened, fear creeping in at the edges.

      Digging deep, Sloan remembered that last special moment with his father—his memories of following the taller man as he pushed through the crowd with sure steps. Sloan forged ahead. “I value traditions just as much as my father did, and he was right about one thing—you and I can’t work together. So I think it would be best if you retire when Abigail does. I would hate for word to leak out about your shady dealings with Ziara’s mother.”

      “You couldn’t do that without telling people about Ziara’s past.”

      “Who gives a damn? I certainly don’t care what people think. She’s not her mother—in any way. And anyone who dare speaks even her name wrong will have to deal with me. Personally.”

      This time Sloan’s exit was straight and true. He walked out with a new connection to his father and a woman he still needed to seduce—this time into happily ever after.

      * * *

      Ziara glanced down at her hands, the slight vibration a little surprising. She wasn’t sure if it was from witnessing the confrontation between Sloan and Vivian, or the sheer shock from seeing him again. In her heart, she knew he was only here for the business, for his father’s memory. His surprising defense of her made her wish for something else, for something more personal, more private.

      As she watched the glamorous throng being urged to their seats, she knew it wouldn’t happen. Now that the truth was out, she’d never fit into this world. Vivian would make sure of that. And Sloan would never want to fit into hers.

      As everyone settled and the lights dimmed, Ziara took a deep breath. This was it. The moment of truth. The reception of these lines would make or break Eternity Designs.

      Things went well from the beginning. Guests oohed and aahed in all the right places as the wedding gowns graced the spotlight. The tightness coiled deep inside Ziara loosened as the first model for the transitional lingerie line made her entrance. Her dark coloring set off the white, slim-fitting gown against the now-pale pink backdrop.

      As the emcee explained the nature of the material and the gown’s function, Ziara heard whispers, and flashbulbs exploded. Just at that moment one of the runners stuck his head around the side door and motioned for Ziara.

      As she approached, he whispered, “Miss Ziara, we need you.”

      Duty called.

      Ziara and Patrick arrived back in the side wing just as Sloan started his speech. Tears in need of release ached in Ziara’s throat. But she’d gotten through tonight, just as she would get through whatever lay ahead. Even if it meant starting over somewhere else.

      Drinking in Sloan’s confident, cocky grin as he addressed the crowd, she wished her future would keep her with Sloan.

      Patrick left her side to join the other designers as Sloan introduced them. They looked like a melting pot of styles side by side, but the combination had been wildly successful. The standing ovation was proof positive.

      Standing alone in the wings, Ziara’s heart warmed with gratitude. Sloan had attained success, just as he deserved. He’d been right and she and Vivian had been wrong. In the end he’d saved the company they all loved.

      Catching a change in Sloan’s voice drew her focus back to him.

      “There’s