5. Chapter 5

5

T he number of times Tony had been married boggled Quinn's mind. He was convinced there was an error in his file and asked Tony just to be sure.

"So erm… thirteen wives?"

Tony smiled proudly, then scratched his bristly chin. "What can I say? I love too much."

"Thirteen wives and thirteen divorces."

"Impressive, isn't it? I'm hoping for the fourteenth time behind bars."

"What, how?"

Tony shrugged. "I get fan mail. Women like a bad boy, and I'm…I'm one of the worst."

"Why do you think your marriages didn't work out?"

Tony blew out a long breath, then muttered, "The nagging."

"Nagging?"

"Constantly do this, do that. Where are you going? How long will you be? It gets a bit stale after a while."

"Some people value the comfort, the familiar—"

"Not me. At first it's new and exciting, then it's whose turn is it to take the bins out, the car needs its MOT and do we really have to visit your mother again this month? It's dull, and if my wife can't keep things fresh and exciting, then what's the point? I'm a red-blooded man, and it was inevitable I was going to cheat."

Quinn eased out a slow breath and pushed thoughts of Damon from his head.

"The divorces must've been expensive."

Tony chuckled and slapped his hand on his knee. "No kidding. They'd clear me out."

"Then why did you keep getting married?"

"The proposal and the wedding part were addictive. The sex was the best during that time. I love women; that's my weakness."

"What were your wives like?"

Tony leaned back in his chair, rubbing his chin as he rattled off as much as he could remember about each one. It didn't surprise Quinn that he only described them physically, not emotionally. Tony described their shape with his hands and groped the air when he said they had big breasts. He focused on the sex more than anything, and each woman overlapped with another. He didn't ever end a marriage before starting the next.

When Tony's pupils started to dilate and the swelling in his pants became noticeable, Quinn finished the session early. Tony left in a hurry, leaving the door to swing.

Cleo poked her head inside. "Who set his pants alight?"

Quinn shuddered, then grimaced. "Don't… Just don't."

Cleo peeked a look at the notes on the table. "Thirteen times, and I can't even find one man to marry me."

"Would you really want to be married to someone like Tony?"

"Not exactly. He's my type, though."

Quinn widened his eyes. "Serial killers are your kink?"

"I meant looks-wise."

The weight of Quinn's gaze had Cleo backing out of the room.

"Don't judge me."

Quinn shot her a smile. "I'm judging and judging hard!"

Cleo smirked, then disappeared down the corridor.

"Oh, am I boring you?"

Quinn finished his yawn, then shook his head. "I'm sorry, it's been a long week."

Zane's eyes crinkled with amusement. "And you've saved the best for last."

"Something like that. I want to talk about relationships."

"Bit forward, aren't you?"

"Not us—not between us—" Quinn stopped abruptly and pinched the back of his hand. The sharp pain pulled his focus back, and he looked at Zane.

" Your relationships."

Zane's smirk had gone, and instead, he narrowed his eyes. "Don't do that…"

"What?" Quinn asked.

"Hurt yourself."

He glanced down at Quinn's hand.

"It didn't hurt. It was just to get me focused."

"I don't like it."

"Okay. I won't do it again. So…relationships?"

"I was twenty-one when I became head of one of my father's businesses. Naturally, I got a lot of attention from men and women. The press labelled me a player after I was spotted out with Tessa Reed."

"The Hollywood actress?"

Zane smirked. "Like you don't know who that is…"

Quinn busied himself with his notes. Of course, he knew who she was, and he even remembered the paparazzi shots of her with Zane, holding his hand as he led her through Camden.

"It was only one date, but she's got a reputation and just being seen with her gave me one. Just think of it, twenty-one and reading that I was a player in every national newspaper."

"But that wasn't the case?"

Zane snorted. "I wasn't a player until I was labelled as one. I wasn't a player before the papers wanted me to be."

Quinn frowned. "You started sleeping with lots of people because the papers claimed you were?"

A slow smile spread across Zane's lips.

"What did your dad think of all your lovers?"

"He didn't approve, said I was too reckless and they'd come back to bite me."

"Did you…" Quinn swallowed. "Ever love any of them?"

"No. They said I was a party animal. Addicted to sex, and so—"

"That's what you became."

Zane grinned and leaned back in his chair. "You've got it."

"Must've been lonely."

"I was sleeping with men and women nearly every night. Why would you think I was lonely?"

"No emotional attachment."

"Who wants emotions? Who wants romance?"

Quinn bit his lip. "A lot of people."

"I learned from my dad's pinning over my mum that love isn't worth my time, but I can tell you like the idea of it."

Quinn shrugged. "I don't feel ashamed of that—"

"And nor should you. It's not for me, that's all. These…beautiful people offered themselves, and I used them."

"That doesn't sound nice."

"They knew it wasn't love. I never deceived them into thinking it was. It was sex, sometimes just sex on its own with no strings is so much better, no drama, no awkwardness, only pleasure for the both of you."

Zane's eyes glinted, and he raised his eyebrow as if challenging Quinn to argue.

"Do you think any of these beautiful people wanted more from you?"

"Money, a step up the ladder at work, their picture in the paper to help plug their next product or expand their social media following." He shrugged. "Sure, they wanted me for my name. Everyone did at first."

"There's been a lot of…stories about you. Kiss-and-tells."

"Kiss-and-tells." Zane sighed. "At first I quite enjoyed them."

"Why?"

"Reading in the paper that I was a relentless lover was an ego boost. Attractive men and women would come up to me because of what was said about me; they wanted a taste for themselves, and I indulged."

"You said…at first."

Zane hummed. "One woman threatened to expose my love of rape fantasies."

Quinn stiffened. "What?"

"It was a lie. I could be rough, liked to be in control, but that fantasy wasn't for me. She threatened to expose me; I was young, didn't want that written about me, so I paid her off, which was the worst thing I could've done."

"What happened?"

"Things spiralled then, more allegations, more kiss-and-tells but with darker claims. My legal team was struggling to get control of the situation, and of course when it's revealed I paid someone to keep quiet, that can only be because I'm hiding something sinister, right? A depraved sexual appetite. An aggressive and abusive Zane Black sells more papers than one that gives multiple orgasms."

Quinn averted his gaze. "How many partners would you say you've had?"

"Now that"—Zane flashed his teeth—"is a very personal question."

"You don't have to answer if it makes you uncomfortable."

Zane squinted. "But then you'll think it's a low number, and I can't have that."

Quinn snorted.

"Hundreds," Zane said, then winked.

"Jesus."

"No, not Jesus, but maybe his dad, Joseph, at a nativity in London one year."

Quinn couldn't help himself; he laughed.

Zane smiled. "You have a nice laugh."

His voice was low, soft.

"Inappropriate."

"Why?"

Quinn sighed. "The way you said it."

"Hey, if my voice is turning you on, that's on you, not me. I was making a completely innocent comment." Zane dragged his teeth over his bottom lip. "Your turn."

"My…turn?"

"How many men have you slept with?"

Quinn blushed, lowered his head and pretended to study his papers. "You don't need to know."

"The embarrassment makes me think it's a low number."

"Why does it matter if it's a low number?"

"I don't think it matters at all. It's you who's embarrassed."

Quinn sighed. "Two."

"And did you love them?"

"One of them."

"Heartbreak…" Zane said softly.

Quinn turned away. "Not the palm-reading rubbish again?"

"Your watch."

Quinn frowned, then glanced down and cursed. He set the time to the clock on the wall and muttered under his breath, "I've been meaning—"

"To get it fixed, you keep saying."

"Sorry." Quinn frowned. He didn't even know why he was apologising.

"You could fix it; you could throw it away."

"I could—"

"But you don't want to do either of those things, so you leave it as it is. You let it continue ticking away, broken, much like your relationship…"

Quinn gawped, then snapped his jaw shut and glared. Red-hot embers rose in his chest, and he balled his hands into fists.

"You know nothing about my relationship," Quinn snapped.

Zane didn't even flinch. He watched as Quinn got himself back under control.

"I'm sorry," Quinn whispered. "I didn't mean to speak to you like that."

Zane shook his head. "You don't need to apologise. I upset you. It wasn't my intention. Sometimes I just say what I see without thinking, and with you, it's obvious."

"What is?"

"The heartbreak. You wear it on your face like my dad sometimes did, and your watch."

Quinn tucked his arm to his chest and covered it with his hand so Zane couldn't see. "What about it?"

"It told me about your relationship."

"You think my watch spoke to you?"

Zane rolled his eyes. "Yeah, it sprouted a mouth and told me all your secrets. Of course not. I learned from it."

Quinn unpeeled his fingers. "What's to learn? It's just a watch."

"It's the wrong colour for a start…"

"How is it the wrong colour?"

"It's olive green."

Quinn glared at his watch. "So?"

Zane smirked and leaned over the table. "Accessories can bring out our best features. You have the biggest, bluest eyes I've ever seen, but instead of complementing them, your watch is green."

"It's my favourite colour—"

"Really? I see you come in each morning. You wear maroon shirts, grey shirts, blue shirts, but never green. Bit strange if it's your favourite colour."

"You remember the colours of my shirts?"

"Course I do. The point is, you didn't buy that watch. He did. That brown leather strap, it doesn't match your hair or any of the shoes you've worn here. It's too dark. The watch is broken. You don't want to fix it. You can't part with it, and you won't dare replace it… You're stuck at a crossroads in your relationship and don't know which way to go, but what interests me is why you're at that crossroads. What happened?"

"Does the position of my hair not somehow give you that information?"

Zane hugged his stomach and laughed. "No, it doesn't, but I can guess the most likely reason."

"Which is?"

"He was unfaithful."

Quinn dropped his gaze to the table and released a slow breath. "I found out he'd cheated on me. He wants to try again and has given me some time to think, but I don't know if I can trust him."

Zane clicked his fingers, then pointed at the watch. "Can I see?"

Quinn unclipped his watch and slid it across the table. A look of pure concentration descended on Zane's features, and he studied the face of the watch, then the reverse.

"It reminds me of happier times," Quinn whispered. "Reminds me he can be loving and spontaneous."

"Spontaneous?"

"He bought me the watch when I was having a rough time. Months ago, I was struggling to get this study together; I kept getting rejected. Long nights, lots of bargaining, and begging. I was stressed and snappy. I got home in a horrible mood, and he—he changed that. He'd tidied the house, had dinner set out for me with candles, and then he gave me the watch. It was the perfect night."

"Damon…the douchebag."

A chill wrapped around Quinn's spine, and he pressed himself into his chair. "I never told you his name."

Zane shook the watch. "It's written on the back. Along with a quote."

Quinn dragged his hand down his face and huffed. "Yeah, course it is."

"Well, it all sounds very romantic."

"It is."

"Sadly, for you, you're wrong."

"What?"

"I love you more than the moon and stars," Zane read from the back.

Quinn let the words wash over him. His heart hurt.

"How disgustingly cliché…"

Quinn made a grab for the watch, but Zane moved out of the way quickly.

"What's wrong with that?" Quinn hissed.

"You think it's romantic. That's what's wrong."

"It's sweet, meaningful—"

"To you. Not to him. He doesn't care for the moon or stars. He just knows you do. They mean nothing to him; those grand words mean nothing to him. Just as you mean nothing. If you did, he would've got you a watch that complemented your eyes and a strap the same brown as your hair."

"Stop it—"

"A spontaneous gift can also be one of guilt. I reckon he bought you this after he started his affair. Got it engraved with those oh-so-romantic words to keep you blind to what he was doing behind your back."

"Him cheating was a one-off."

Zane rolled his eyes. "You disappoint me, Doctor Quinn."

"Damon bought the watch months ago—"

"Exactly. No doubt he's been at it behind your back for all that time. And I'd bet the man he had the affair with has olive-green eyes and darker brown hair than yours."

Quinn stood up fast, and his chair clattered to the ground. He braced his hands on the table, panting hard as he tried to scrape his control back together. He could not lose it. The study, his career in the field, depended on him staying professional and keeping his private life separate.

Zane's slumped in his chair. "Look, you needed to hear it."

"You have no idea what I need." He held his hand out for the watch. "Give it back."

Zane dropped it in Quinn's hand. "It's scary breaking a habit, but if you don't break it…it'll end up breaking you."

Zane got to his feet and left the office without a backwards glance. Quinn tightened his fist around the watch and threw himself down in his chair. He stared at the scattered papers on his desk and resisted tearing them to shreds. He had worked too hard, and sacrificed too much for his study, and he wasn't going to let Zane Black push him over the edge.

"Zane again?" Cleo asked from the doorway.

"How—how does he know stuff?"

"I told you he was clever. Almost supernatural. What did he say?"

"He knew my relationship's balancing on a knife edge."

Cleo's lips parted with a pop. "Relationship? I didn't even know you were with anyone."

"He did. He knew by my watch."

Quinn thumped his fist to the table and released the watch. Cleo strolled forward and sat on the opposite side.

"Did he threaten him?"

"No, Zane didn't threaten Damon."

"Then what did he say?"

"He said Damon slept with a guy with green eyes."

Cleo whistled, then laughed. "Well, that's specific."

"Except, Damon said it was a one-off… I wanted to know what he looked like, whether he was, I don't know hotter than me, better than me. That man's face is burned into my memory."

"And he has green eyes?"

"Yeah, and dark-brown hair. Now I'm questioning whether it was a one-off or whether it went on for longer. Zane said months."

Cleo squeezed the top of her nose. "Wait, why are you listening to Zane?"

"After Damon gave me the watch, he started acting strangely. He was away more for work. He came home smelling different, and I asked him why. He said he forgot his aftershave and had to buy another. Another time he came home with a rash on his neck and said he'd had a reaction to a new body wash, and even though it was right in front of me, I made myself believe him. He even had scratches on his back and blamed the cat. Every time I got suspicious, I'd look at my wrist and feel guilty for doubting him. I'm such an idiot."

Cleo shook her head. "You're not an idiot. What's important is what you do now."

Quinn caught his head in his hands and huffed at the table. "It's never that easy to just draw a line and realise all that time was a waste and it led to nothing. I thought we were good together. I thought everything was fine, and we were happy. He looked happy."

"Some couples come back from infidelity," Cleo said softly. "It doesn't have to be over."

"He told me it was a one-off." Quinn looked down at the watch. "But what do I do if it wasn't? What if Zane is right? Damon would've cheated and he would've lied, and I've got to draw the line somewhere, right?"