It never does.
Vin is truly a force to be reckoned with when he deigns to turn on the charm, but eventually something will piss him off and we’ll end up back where we started.
His whims are too unpredictable to trust.
As if reading my mind, Zion murmurs. “I don’t trust the fucking Cortlands, and you shouldn’t either.”
“Trust has nothing to do with it,” I snap. “Look, your lawyer is going to meet with you this week with the paperwork ready to sign. You have until then to decide. But your only choices are to rot in prison until you’re forty, or testify and go to this cushy diversion program. The judge has already said that you’ll be transferred on the same day you testify so the assholes here won’t get a chance to touch you.”
“Fuck.” His head drops against the glass. “This is too much.”
“Nothing is ever easy. Not for us.”
One of the guards raps his knuckles against the door, letting me know we have less than a minute left. “I have to go soon. I put some money on your commissary and you need to call me if you need anything else.”
His gaze narrows on my face. “Where are you getting the money for all this? Lawyers aren’t cheap, and I already heard it isn’t a public defender on my case.”
Zion is not going to want to hear where the money came from or why it’s coming. “We can fight about the details later. Just focus on getting through this.”
“Please tell me this isn’t what I think it is.”
He thinks I’m whoring myself out to save him. Maybe I am, even if we’ve put a prettier label on it. “You made the front page of the paper, so I suggest you hold on to whatever stones you’re planning to throw. We’ll talk about everything later. I love you.”
“Love you, too,” he says with a sigh. “Even though I don’t want you fucking up your life to save mine.”
“No need. I fuck my life up all on my own for no good reason at all.”
I put down the receiver without waiting for a response, because I don’t really want to hear whatever he would have said next. Zion has always let his frustration at our circumstances get the best of him, like railing against the universe is going to change anything. He thought that acting out would show the world how much he doesn’t care, but that just has him facing a possible life sentence for a crime he almost certainly didn’t commit.
Life isn’t fair. And sometimes you have to deal with the devil to get your due.
The ride back to Deception with Vin is quiet, but not exactly awkward.
Neither of us talk much, probably because anything else we say might break the strange spell that has been cast over us. Knowing that I’m his wife, even though it’s temporary, has changed things. Kissing him changed things.
Throwing myself at him, initiating sex for the first time ever, has changed things.
I know Vin has to feel it, too, even if I’m not stupid enough to ask him. We’re at a place where we can actually enjoy some aspects of each other’s company. That’s the most we’ve had between us in years.
I’m not going to ruin it with talk.
My elbow is on the arm rest, which puts my arm close to his when he grips the shifter to switch gears. Every so often his fingers gently stroke the back of my hand, smoothing along my skin.
He seems lost in his own thoughts, making me wonder if he even realizes he’s doing it.
I really don’t want to have dinner with his family. His parents seem nice enough, if distant, but they aren’t the problem.
Being inside Cortland Manor kicks up an itch under my skin that I can’t scratch. My flesh feels like it’s gone too tight on my bones until I’m all dried out and practically dead. I managed the annoying sensation during the Founder’s Ball, but that was only because I had Jake there to distract me.
I still feel more than a little bad when I think about Jake. I can only imagine the look on his face when he finds out that Vin and I got married.
If he even finds out, at all.
It isn’t like Vin ever made it clear whether we’re going public with all this crap or not. He had us elope to wine country with only his closest friend to serve as a witness. Nobody has to know about any of this for it to be legal.
I’ll just be his dirty little secret.
Except, we’re on the way to dinner with his parents. He publicly sent work crews in to fix up my house and battered down the door of the district attorney’s office to get my brother out of trouble.
That isn’t how you treat a secret.
I shouldn’t care, either way. We made a deal. It would be stupid of me to expect — to want — anything else.
I’ll let him pay my way through school, keep my brother out of prison, and set my Grandpa up somewhere with appropriate medical care. All of that is worth a year.
And the way he sets my body on fire won’t be anything more than a fringe benefit.
Cortland Manor is almost completely dark when we pull into the long circular driveway, one large window brightly lit on the far side of the house where the dining room is located. Even from the outside, the place reminds me of a mausoleum at the best of times.
But it’s even worse in the dark.
I’ve only ever gone in through the front door, so I suppress a fearful shiver as he navigates the car toward the pitch black rear of the house. Anything not illuminated by the Maserati’s headlights is sunk into darkness. Intellectually,
