Chapter 25

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

ASHLEY

I can't move. I'm frozen in place, shock locking my muscles tight, and staring at the man beside me. Every time I think he can't make things any worse, he does something new.

Does he really expect me to face his parents and behave like I like him? Actually no, he doesn't. He expects me to behave like I'm attracted to him. Like I love him. Because that's the only reason anyone would rush into marriage. Does he really think anyone is going to believe that?

I know the answer to that question without even thinking about it. Yes, of course he does. In the few hours I've spent with him so far, I've already learned that when he says something is going to happen, then that's what will happen.

And I've just signed away fourteen months of my life. I've relinquished all control over to him. To this monster.

The nausea that's been threatening all evening finally reaches its peak and I barely get the car door open before I vomit everything I've eaten, not that it's a lot, all over the road.

On the edge of my awareness, a car door slams, and then two booted feet appear in my vision. I frown at them .

Black boots, dusty and worn.

I focus on them, while I will my stomach to stop churning.

"Here." A handkerchief enters my vision.

I take it, blot my lips, then sit up straighter, so I can look up into his face. "Thank you."

His gaze is thoughtful as he stares down at me. "Maybe we'll leave the meeting my parents for a couple of days. That way, it won't be as much of a surprise when I tell them we're getting married. It will make more sense if we've had a couple of dates and let the attraction take hold before deciding we're getting married. One dinner isn't really enough justification to rush into marriage."

The matter-of-fact tone of his voice makes me laugh, but it's not funny. Nothing about this situation is funny.

"It'll still be a surprise, Zain. No one in their right mind is going to see that announcement coming."

He holds out a hand. I place the handkerchief in it. His eyebrows dip into a frown. "I was offering to help you out of the car."

"Oh …" Awkwardly, I take his hand in mine and stand. My vision swims a little, then steadies.

"Will you make it to your front door or do I need to carry you?"

"You absolutely do not need to carry me."

I take a cautious step forward, avoiding the vomit, and make a mental note to come back out with a bucket of water to clean it up. When I'm certain my legs aren't going to give out, I aim my body toward the steps leading up to the front door, conscious of the man stalking along at my heels .

"You don't have to walk me to the door."

"I do."

"For appearances?"

"That's right."

"There's no one out here."

"Doesn't mean we're not being watched."

I'm not sure if he means for those words to remind me of where he'd so recently been, but they do. I have no doubt that he was watched all day long while he was in prison. By guards, and by other inmates. It makes me wonder what it was like, what he experienced, what things he was going to repeat with me . And what it's done to him.

Jason loved this man. I don't know what caused him to attack my brother the way he did, but before that everything Jason told me about Zain suggested he was kind, warm, and attentive to his friends and family.

What happened to change that?

If the circumstances were different, I'd ask him.

We reach the front door, and I stop and turn, catching my breath when I find him close behind me.

"Do I have to invite you in, for appearances? " I don't bother to hide how I feel about that suggestion from my voice.

His quiet laugh surprises me. It's raspy and low. From the dark look that covers his face at the sound, he didn't mean to do it.

I wonder how often he laughed in prison.

"I think we can forgo that. We wouldn't want people accusing you of taking advantage of a newly-released man, would we?" His eyebrow arches.

My cheeks heat up when his meaning hits me. He's been imprisoned for years. He's been out in the world for less than forty-eight hours. I doubt he's stopped at any point to have sex.

Oh my god. He hasn't had sex in fourteen years. If that's on his agenda …

No, wait. He already said he wasn't interested in sleeping with me.

"Eight o'clock." He moves backward down the steps, not taking his eyes off me.

I reach behind me, then remember I need to unlock the door first. But I don't want to turn my back on him. I don't want to break eye-contact. This has nothing to do with him, with who he is, or what he did, and everything to do with the city I've lived in for the past eight years.

I learned quickly that living in a city is not the same as living in a small town where you know almost everyone.

You don't turn your back on a stranger. You made sure no one was close by when you were entering your home, if you were alone.

A little like being in prison, I guess.

He stops at the bottom of the steps.

"Go inside, Ashley."

The way he says my name makes my stomach spin.

"I will."

I don't move. Nor does he. I look up and down the street. There's no one else around.

"I'm not going to murder you." There's an annoyed bite to his tone .

"I know that. Too many witnesses. You prefer to do your dirty work where no one can see you."

His expression changes. His lips thin, and his eyes narrow.

I spin to face the door, rummage around my pocket for the key, then shove it in the lock. My heart hammers against my ribs the entire time, half-expecting him to grab me. But the sound of a car engine breaks the silence as I step inside the house.

Leaning back against the wood, I close my eyes and take a deep breath.

"How did it go?" Mom's voice makes me jump.

My hand slaps to my mouth and I fight to control my racing heart. She must see something in my face because she laughs.

"I'm sorry. I thought you heard me. I wasn't trying to give you a heart attack."

"It was …" Insane? Bizarre? Potentially life-changing, and not in a good way? "Interesting.

I'm … I'm having breakfast with him tomorrow."

Her eyes widen. "You are? That sounds like this evening went a little better than you thought it would. Did you manage to clear the air? Did you talk about what you think you saw, and what he says happened that night?"

"We're … getting there. That's why we're meeting again. We have a lot to discuss."

I'm marrying him so he doesn't drag you through court and put you in prison for a crime you didn't commit.

I can't tell her that. Somehow I'm going to have to make her believe that I want to marry him, and that we're rushing into it for a good reason. I just can't think of one.

"I think this will be really good for both of you. I'm glad you agreed to it. It'll give you closure, and maybe bring him a little peace."

I nod, pushing myself away from the door. "Maybe. We'll see. I'm going to go to bed. It's been a really tiring day today, and I have to be up early."

I'm going to need my wits about me to deal with Zain in the morning. And then I need to figure out a way to convince my housemates that I haven't lost my mind when I tell them I won't be back for over a year.