Chapter 29

CHAPTER 29

MARIGOLD

W hen Zayn turned onto the gravel road leading to the old tavern, a wave of regret washed over me. The small, rundown building looked exactly as it had years ago, with its faded wooden siding and flickering neon sign that barely read "Benny's." It was nothing like the bars, lounges, and clubs in Manhattan. I doubted he had ever stepped foot in anything quite so unique.

It was almost nine thirty, later than I had anticipated, and I'd much rather be home, curled up on the couch with a good book, than about to walk through those doors to face a group of people I never wanted to see again.

If there was ever a lion's den, this was it.

I glanced at Zayn, hoping he'd notice my hesitation and suggest we call it a night instead. But he was focused on finding a parking spot, his jaw set in that determined way that told me he wasn't about to change course.

A nervous flutter in my stomach threatened to turn into a full-fledged flight response as he shut off the engine, his eyes sparkling with an excitement I couldn't share. I forced a smile onto my face, hoping to hide my growing apprehension.

"Ready for this?" Zayn asked. I wished I could borrow a bit of his confidence. He reached over and grabbed my hand, an unexpected move that somehow managed to calm the turbulent butterflies in my stomach.

"I guess," I muttered, forcing myself to step out of the truck.

The sound of gravel crunching under my boots felt like the precursor to a bad decision. Zayn opened the tavern door for me. Just as I stepped through, his hand slid down my back, and before I knew it, he gave my ass a startling squeeze. I yelped, more out of surprise than anything else. I shot him a look that was half reprimand, half disbelief.

He just grinned, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes that was impossible to resist, even in the face of the dread building in my stomach. But the playful moment was short-lived. Inside, the tavern was as loud and chaotic as ever, the kind of place where time seemed to stand still.

As soon as we stepped in, I spotted Courtney across the room, surrounded by some familiar faces from high school. She was in the middle of a story, her voice rising above the clatter of pool balls and the chatter of the crowd. Her eyes flicked over to us as we entered. A slow smile spread across her lips. It was the kind of smile I imagined a spider would have when he saw a fly land in its web.

"Marigold! Zayn!" she called out, waving us over to their spot near the pool table and dartboards.

I stiffened, every muscle in my body tensing as we approached. This was it. The moment I'd been dreading ever since Zayn and I concocted this plan. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, the anxiety making my mouth go dry. I wasn't ready for this.

"Hey, everyone," Zayn greeted as we reached the table, his tone casual and warm as if he hadn't noticed the tension in my posture. He wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me close in a gesture that was both protective and possessive. "I'm Zayn Bancroft. Nice to meet you all."

The words had barely left his mouth when the reaction rippled through the group like a shockwave. The guys' jaws dropped, and even Courtney seemed momentarily stunned, her mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for water as she processed what he'd just said.

"Bancroft?" she echoed, her brows knitting together in confusion. "But Marigold said your last name was Klein."

My stomach lurched. Damn it. How had I overlooked something so basic? The panic rose in my throat like bile, a bitter, icky taste making me want to actually vomit. I could feel the color draining from my face. If Courtney figured out we were lying, the whole thing would be over before it even started. Zayn's reputation, the five hundred grand I desperately needed—everything would be gone, ruined by one careless slip.

And I would never be able to show my face in Wyoming again.

I opened my mouth to speak, but my tongue felt like it was glued to the roof of my mouth. Words failed me. I could only stare helplessly at Courtney as the seconds ticked by, each one an eternity.

Zayn didn't miss a beat. He chuckled, a smooth, confident sound that made it seem like everything was under control. "We didn't want to name drop at the wedding." He explained it so easily, I actually believed him. "The day was about Carlos and Elaine, not us. And to be honest, we've been trying to keep things a bit hush-hush for now."

He glanced down at me, his expression softening in a way that made my heart do a strange little flip in my chest. "With my family's reputation and all, it's hard to have a normal relationship away from prying eyes. I've been enjoying that with Marigold for as long as I can."

His explanation seemed to satisfy Courtney, who visibly relaxed and let out a small, almost wistful sigh. "I get that," she said, her voice tinged with what sounded like genuine understanding. "I know what it's like to be the center of attention all the time. It can be a real burden."

Zayn smiled and squeezed my hand, a silent signal that everything was okay. The knot in my stomach loosened slightly, but I still felt like I was standing on the edge of a cliff, one wrong move away from disaster.

As the night went on, we endured a round of pool. Zayn was surprisingly good, or maybe not so surprisingly, given how easily he seemed to excel at everything. He kicked everyone's ass, including mine, though I could tell he was going easy on me. The more beer I drank, the more bearable the situation became, though I was careful not to overdo it. The last thing I needed was to get sloppy in front of Courtney and her friends.

The whole time, I kept reminding myself why I was here, why I was putting myself through this. It was all part of the plan, just a steppingstone on the path to financial freedom. A steppingstone to doing something better with my life.

Admittedly, I was still trying to figure out exactly what that something was. But I knew it would come to me.

I could deal with Courtney and the assholes who had made my life miserable in high school. I had five hundred thousand reasons to be patient.

All of their bullshit was years ago, and I was a different person now. Stronger, smarter. I hated that they still had any power over me and I refused to let them see that. Being here tonight proved they didn't intimidate me anymore. And with Zayn at my side, I was the woman who snared one of the hottest, wealthiest guys in the country.

Around midnight, I needed a break, a moment to clear my head. I went up to the bar and ordered a glass of water, ignoring the way the bartender raised an eyebrow at my choice. Behind me, I could hear Zayn laughing with the others, his deep, rich voice standing out in the crowd. I glanced over my shoulder, watching as he threw his head back in carefree laughter, his handsome face lit up with genuine enjoyment.

He seemed to be blending right in. I didn't expect him to look so at home. But then again, he had charm and charisma. People naturally gravitated toward him.

For a brief, painful moment, I wished this whole thing wasn't a sham. Wished that the way Zayn looked at me, the way he held me close, was real. That this wasn't just some elaborate ruse to salvage his reputation and fill my bank account.

I shook my head, pushing the thought away. That was just the beer talking, I told myself, though I knew it was more than that. I couldn't afford to get lost in wishful thinking. This was a business arrangement, nothing more. As fun as it was, I couldn't forget this relationship was strictly temporary.

Just as I was about to take a sip of my water, Courtney slid up beside me, her perfume wafting through the air in a sickly-sweet cloud. She ordered two tequila shots, then turned to me with that fake smile plastered on her face. "For old times' sake," she said, handing me one of the shots.

I took it, even though the thought of downing tequila with Courtney made my stomach churn.

"So, how's your dad doing these days?" she asked, her tone dripping with false concern. "My dad said he's been in the dumps since you moved away. Must be tough for him, being all alone out there."

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. I had to fight to keep my expression neutral. She didn't stop, flipping her hair over her shoulder in that practiced, calculated way that always made me feel small and insignificant. "You know, there isn't much here compared to New York, but if my daddy was all alone after my mom died, I could never just abandon him for greener pastures."

She giggled, a high-pitched, grating sound that set my teeth on edge. "But you were always wired different, weren't you, Marigut?"

The nickname sliced through me like a knife, bringing back memories I'd tried so hard to bury. Memories of high school, of Courtney and her friends picking on me for being overweight, for not fitting in. The sound of their laughter, the way they'd whisper behind my back, the way they'd call me Marigut, a twisted version of my name meant to humiliate me.

I hadn't heard that name in years, but hearing it now, in this place, from Courtney's lips—it was triggering in a way I hadn't expected. It took me right back to freshman year.

Something inside me snapped.

Without thinking, I grabbed the shot Courtney had ordered and threw it in her face. The tequila splashed across her cheeks, making her cheap mascara run. She gasped, her eyes widening in shock.

"I might not have a thigh gap, Courtney," I seethed, my voice trembling with the rage I'd been holding back all night, "but at least I'm not so soulless and miserable that I get joy out of hurting people's feelings."

Courtney let out a shriek, the high-pitched sound echoing through the tavern, drawing the attention of everyone around us. Her hands flew to her face, wiping at the tequila as if it had burned her. If only .

She stared at me with wide, incredulous, racoon eyes. For a moment, time seemed to stand still. The noise of the tavern faded into the background. All I could hear was the pounding of my heart. I'd done it. I'd finally stood up to her, and it felt good. Liberating.

Maybe a tiny bit scary. I fully expected her to hit me. Her clenched fists at her sides and the red blotches on her puffy face made her look insane.

There's the real Courtney, finally as ugly on the outside as she was inside.

Zayn didn't hesitate. He reached for my hand, his grip firm and reassuring, and pulled me close to him, shielding me from the angry little teapot about to boil over. "Sorry, Court. Butter fingers, am I right?"

He leaned down and murmured in my ear, his voice calm and steady. "Let's get out of here."

I didn't argue. A tactical retreat seemed wise. I let him guide me toward the door, my legs still shaky from the confrontation. The cool night air kissed my hot cheeks as we stepped outside, but it did little to calm the storm raging inside me.

We walked in silence to the truck, and it wasn't until we were safely inside with the doors closed that Zayn finally spoke. "That was amazing, but are you okay?"

I looked at him, really looked at him, and for the first time, I saw the concern in his eyes, the way he was looking at me like he actually cared. Like he wasn't just playing a role.

I nodded, unable to find the words. I wasn't okay, not really. But I was better than I had been, better than I'd felt in a long time.

Zayn reached over and brushed a stray lock of hair from my face, his touch gentle. "You don't have to do this, you know. Not for the money, not for me."

I wanted to believe him, wanted to think that I could walk away from this whole thing and be okay. But the reality was, I needed the money, and I was in too deep to back out now.

I forced a smile, even though it didn't reach my eyes. "I'll be fine," I said, my voice hollow. "Let's just go home."

He nodded. "Silver lining, Courtney is going to think twice about hassling you again."

Despite my mood, I couldn't help but chuckle.