Chapter 24

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

ZAIN

We don't bother with dessert. Ashley is looking a little green. I do consider ordering something just to see if she vomits all over the table, but the more sensible part knows that it won't look good for what I have planned if she throws up in the restaurant.

"Ready to go?"

She can't hide her relief when I pay for our meal and stand, and she's on her feet before I finish speaking. I tuck the contract back in my pocket, and wait for her to move in front of me.

I hold a small debate with myself on whether I should reach for her hand, touch her back or just walk beside her. I'd guided her with my palm against her spine on the way in, and the warmth of her body through her clothes against my skin had felt odd. Physical touch isn't something I've dealt with for years and everything, including hugging my mom, seems to feel extra sensitive right now.

If I want people to jump to the conclusion I want, then I need to play my part, so I rest my hand against her back and guide her out. She stiffens at my touch, but doesn't try to move away.

People watch us as we walk through the restaurant, making no attempt to hide their curiosity. I have no doubt it'll have already spread around the room who we are, and there's not a person in here who won't be wondering why we're sharing a meal or what we're talking about.

We walk to my car in silence. When I open the passenger door for her, she looks at me.

"What if I made a statement saying I was wrong? Will you reconsider doing this?"

"No." I don't even need to think about it.

"That isn't fair. I was thirteen . What I walked in on … anyone would have thought the same as me."

"I'd agree if you told them what you actually saw and didn't make up your own version. Get in the car."

"No."

I should have known she'd argue. "You must really hate your mother."

"Of course not."

"Then why are you fighting with me on this?"

I walk around to the driver's side, climb in, and start the engine. When she doesn't move, I lean across the center console.

"You can either get in the car, and I'll take you home, or I'll leave you here and you can walk. Your choice. It makes no difference to me."

"If you agree that anyone would have thought the same, why are you doing this?" She drops into the passenger seat, and slams the door.

"That wasn't what I said. Put your seatbelt on. "

"Wouldn't you rather I didn't? That way if you crash, it might kill me."

I turn my head toward her. "A fast death won't give me what I want."

She glares at me.

I reach across and pull her seatbelt over her, then snap it into the lock.

Pulling out of the parking space, I drive out of the exit and join the traffic moving away from the restaurant.

"The problem is," I say into the heavy silence, "what you saw isn't what you testified to seeing." I don't even know why I'm explaining this to her.

"I didn't lie."

"Yes, you did."

"I think I'd know. I can't look at you without seeing what happened that night."

The venom in her voice should upset me, but that would require caring what she thinks, and quite simply, I don't. I know the truth. She doesn't. As long as she keeps that tone out of her voice in public, she can speak to me however she pleases when we're alone. It'll just make what's coming all the more sweeter.

"I'll pick you up at eight in the morning."

"What for?"

"Breakfast. It's going to be a busy day."

"I don't want to have breakfast with you."

"As we've already discussed, what you want isn't relevant anymore. I'll pick you up at eight. We'll go to a cafe in town, and spend an hour being seen. Then I have a list of tasks you'll need to do."

"Tasks? What tasks?"

"I'll arrange for the wedding to take place at the weekend. That means there will be paperwork we both need to fill in. You'll need to contact your landlord to end your lease. If you have to pay an early release fee for that to happen, let me know and I'll give you the money. You'll also have to let your job know you won't be returning, and," I glance over at her, "of course, you'll need to end things with Scott."

" What? "

I snort. "Don't even pretend to be outraged by that. If you had any kind of feelings for the man, you wouldn't have agreed to marry me. You'd have already been on the phone to him to tell him what I'm doing, and ask for his advice on what to do. And you haven't done that, have you?" I glance over at her, one eyebrow raised.

She gapes at me, her expression clearly telling me that the idea hadn't even crossed her mind. If I didn't know already, that alone would be enough to tell me the relationship is not serious … at least, on her part.

"And the fact you haven't tells me everything I need to know about that so-called relationship."

"I've worked hard to build the life I have, you can't just?—"

"Can, and am. You read the contract before you signed it. You know the terms."

"But my job?—"

It's telling how that's her only concern, and not her boyfriend.

"There are no jobs in prison, Ashley. Well, no that's not true. There are, but none you can leave the building to attend."

"What am I supposed to tell them?"

"I don't really give a fuck, except the truth, obviously."

"This isn't fair, Zain."

"Life isn't fair, Ashley."

I pull into a space outside her house, and look at her. "I'll pick you up at eight. We'll have breakfast, and go over some of the things I expect you to do this week. Then you can make your calls. Once that's done, we'll be heading back to my parents' place so I can introduce you to them, and lay the groundwork for our impending love story."

"Meet your parents?" She sounds, and looks , a little sick.

"I'm not going to marry someone without telling them. What kind of monster do you think I am?"

She blinks at me. I know what she's thinking.

I'm the worst type of monster. The monster who killed her brother. The monster who's destroying her relationships. The monster who's forcing her to marry me. The monster who's blackmailing her.

And I am. I am the monster she's building me up to be in her head. I'm doing all those things to her.

Except one.

I did not kill her brother.