A Facade to Shatter(47)

“Madame, I am so sorry,” the valet said. “I tried to stop him—”

“It’s not your fault,” Zach said, cutting him off abruptly.

“Is the photographer still there?” Lia asked.

“He’s gone.” Zach pushed her back. “Are you okay?”

Lia nodded. “I think so. My palms hurt, but… .”

Zach took her hands and turned them over, revealing scrapes on the heels of her palms. His expression grew thunderous.

“If I ever get ahold of that bastard—”

“I’m fine,” Lia said quickly. “It was an accident.”

“Your knees,” Zach growled, and Lia glanced down. Her knees were scraped and bloody. A trickle of bright red blood ran down the front of her leg.

“I’ll be fine,” she said. “But I need to wash up.”

Zach didn’t look convinced. “Maybe we should have a doctor look at you. What if something happened to the baby?”

Lia smiled to reassure him. The scrapes stung, but they weren’t life-threatening. She’d had worse the time she got stung by a nest of bees while working in the garden. That could have been life threatening, had she not ran and dived into the pool. “Zach, honestly. I fell on my hands and knees. If babies were hurt by such minor accidents, no one would ever be born.”

He frowned, but he ushered her back inside. Their host and hostess were mortified, of course, and they were shown to a private sitting room with an attached bath where Lia could clean up before they went home.

The photographer had disappeared as quickly as he’d arrived. No one could seem to find him. Zach paced and growled like a wounded lion while she sat in the bathroom with a warm wet towel and cleaned the bloody scrapes. He would have done it for her, but she’d pushed him out of the room and told him she could take care of herself.

Once she cleaned the scrapes and stopped the bleeding on her knees, she reemerged to find Zach prowling, his phone stuck to his ear. He stopped when he saw her. He ended the call and pocketed the phone before coming over to her. He looked angry and worried at once.

“I think we should get you to a doctor to be sure,” he said.

“Zach, I fell on my hands and knees. I didn’t fall off a roof.”

He looked doubtful. “I think I’d feel better if someone examined you.”

Lia sighed. “Then make an appointment for tomorrow. Tonight, I want to soak in a hot bath and go to bed.”

He raked a hand through his hair. “Fine,” he said, blowing out a frustrated breath.

This time when they went out to the car, there was no photographer lurking nearby. The gates to the property were closed, opening only when Zach rolled to a stop before them and waited for them to swing open.

It was still light out, because it was summer, but the sun threw long shadows across the road. Zach didn’t say anything as they drove, and Lia turned to look at the trees and rocks as they glided down a wide parkway that could have been in the middle of nowhere rather than in a major city.

“We’re leaving,” Zach said into the silence, and Lia swung to look at him.

“I beg your pardon?”

He glanced at her. “We’re not staying here and enduring a media frenzy. I won’t have you hurt or scared.”

Lia frowned. “Zach, I’m not six years old. I’m not scared, and the hurt is minor. It’s annoying, and I’m angry, but I won’t break.”

“I should have realized this would happen. I should have taken you somewhere else and married you first, then brought you back once they’d had time to get used to it.”

Lia didn’t know how that would help, considering he was still a Scott and still a media target no matter where he went. “It was an accident. Celebrities get photographed every day, and rarely do any of them fall down when it happens.”

Not that she was a celebrity. In fact, that was the problem. She wasn’t accustomed to the attention and she hadn’t reacted quicker. She’d been surprised, and she’d let her surprise catch her off guard when the valet had tried to help.

“Vegas,” Zach said, ignoring her completely. “We’ll marry in Vegas, and then we’ll go to my house on Maui. They won’t be able to get close to us there.”





CHAPTER ELEVEN



ZACH DIDN’T KNOW what he was doing. It was a difficult thought to grow accustomed to. He was always sure of his choices, always in charge of his actions. Even when he didn’t want to do a thing, like stand in front of a crowd and make a patriotic speech about his time in the service, he did it. And he did it because he’d made a choice. There was an end goal.