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 one other person I must thank for making tonight the success it is. Not only did she work tirelessly behind the scenes, she played mediator, organizer and even stagehand.”
Ziara’s heart thumped so loudly Sloan’s next words were almost blocked out. “But most importantly, she served as the inspiration behind some of my new lingerie pieces. She taught me a very important lesson—the most amazing thing you can do in life is to be true to yourself. Not what people want you to be, the mold they shove you into, but to be what you want in life. That’s the greatest challenge. She encouraged me to create some of the designs you saw tonight, and it’s one of the most fulfilling things I’ve ever done. I hope my father would be proud.”
He turned, staring straight at the spot where she trembled backstage. Gooseflesh prickled her bare arms as she listened.
“Please welcome Ziara Divan, my executive assistant at Eternity Designs.”
When his hand extended toward her, she knew he meant for her to join him. Her mind was numb, yet she forced one leaden foot in front of another. As she stepped from the shadows out into the bright lights and applause, her mind came alive, racing with a dozen questions.
She ignored them, intent on reaching Sloan’s side to slip her shaking hand into his outstretched one. Leaning down, he buried his head once again in the hair near her ear. “I love you, Ziara.”
She shook her head, pulling back to stare with wonder into those glittering blue eyes. “What about—” she began in fear.
Sloan silenced her with one warm finger against her lips.
She heard the crowd erupt into applause, but she could only lose herself in Sloan’s hot gaze and hope the fears would disappear like mist under the heat of his desire.
* * *
Later that night, long after the last guest was gone and the last dress packed away, Sloan found himself enjoying a very different kind of show in the privacy of his luxurious bathroom.
“Sloan, I really can’t do this.”
“Ziara, look at me.” Sloan gently cupped her chin, guiding it up so she could watch the two of them in the full-length mirror. He knew she didn’t want to see herself, but he wasn’t going to let her hide. His gaze devoured her sensuous curves in the coppery silk. He probably shouldn’t push her tonight, after everything she’d been through at the show, but part of him needed her to see the truth.
When he’d said she had been the inspiration for his lingerie pieces, he hadn’t been lying. But this particular piece had been created for her—and him—alone. Like layered veils of transparent copper, burnt-orange, pale yellow and gold, the floor-length sheath both covered and revealed the curves of her body. Tempting him with her exotic beauty, showcasing the woman she was meant to be.
“Are you your mother?”
Her sharp intake of breath threatened to strain the zipper, but he wasn’t backing down.
“Answer me.”
“No, not even a little bit,” she said, her assurance translating to her body. Her shoulders straightened. Her tension dissolved.
“Are you a beautiful woman who deserves to wear pretty things? Who wants to see how strong and sexy she is?”
Swallowing hard, her constrained voice came out a whisper. “Yes.”
“Then wear this. For me.”
Sloan let his eyes wander
