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“I know,” I sigh. Trust me, I know.
“Seriously, just borrow the money from us. This is insane.” Her hands fall to her hips and her brows knit together in confusion.
“I can’t. I’m not going to make any rash decisions. I’m going to think this through, I promise. But I need you to calm down and listen.”
“How can I calm down when my best friend wants to marry some man that could strangle her while she’s sleeping?”
I roll my eyes. “He’s not going to strangle me in my sleep.”
“You don’t know that,” she argues.
“To be fair, anyone can be a murderer. Like, literally anyone you meet could kill you.”
She groans. “Not helping.”
Grabbing her hands, I give Lya my best puppy dog eyes. “Look, I know it’s crazy to even consider, but I need my best friend. The one I used to do crazy stupid shit with, even when we knew it was a bad idea at the time. Will you at least listen?”
The anger in her face falls a little. “Okay, I’ll listen but I won’t lie to you.”
My lips pull up in a grin. “Wouldn’t expect anything less. Come on, let's sit.” I motion toward the weight bench.
Once we’re settled, I explain the basics of what I know about the contract. “To inherit his father’s firm, he has to be married for one year. I’ll be his wife for a year and he’ll front the money to save Star of India.”
Lya’s picking at her nails, probably to avoid bursting out in rage. “No offense, but why you? I’m sure the handsome lawyer has girls lined up at his door.”
Whenever people say no offense as they start a sentence, that usually means it’s offensive. I know Lya’s not trying to be mean, but deep down, that one hurt. Though she’s not saying anything I haven’t thought about myself.
“I don’t know. He overheard a conversation with my parents the other day, so he knew I needed the money and a chance to get away from Zayan, so I guess he thought I’d be the perfect sucker to accept his deal.”
She sighs, placing her hand on my thigh this time. “You’re not a sucker. But why not just marry Zayan? You said he has family money. Plus, you guys were together for a long time, so clearly there was something that you could work with there.”
Guilt and panic twist my stomach. I told Lya that Zayan wasn’t always the best to me, but I never told her just how evil he was. I hate that I’m keeping this from her, but I’m embarrassed that I stayed with him for so long. I’ll look like an idiot if I explain how I was so completely enamoured with him that I didn’t see the signs, then I stayed even when I knew, because I had no idea how to get out.
How do I tell my best friend I let a man drug me, rape me, and do who knows what to me when I was unconcious, and yet I still stayed with him? The cycle of trauma and abuse by someone you love is a slippery slope. People can’t understand it until they’ve been in that situation. They ask “Why didn’t you just leave?” or “Why didn’t you tell me? I would have helped.” I know people have good intentions, but it doesn’t always work like that. I once read somewhere that it takes an average of seven times to finally leave an abusive relationship.
Seven. Times.
It took only one time for me to get beaten so badly that I was too terrified to try again. It took me just hoping that one day he’d change, that he’d be the man I originally fell in love with. It took me almost dying to get out.
I hate myself every day for being so stupid and naive. For being so damn weak.
I ignore her comment about Zayan and swallow down my feelings before she catches on. I know if we start talking about him, I’ll break, and the walls I’ve slowly built over the years would crumble in a matter of minutes.
“Something about this feels right, Lya. I’d be able to save the restaurant. It’d only be a year-long commitment, then I’d be free. If I marry Zayan, I’d be with him for eternity, and you said it yourself—I don’t do relationships.”
Her beautiful hazel eyes are full of doubt. “I don’t like this at all. I wish you’d just take our money. But since you won’t, you should think really hard about what you’re doing.”
Of course I will. This is my future. If I’m going to spend a whole year of my life in this contract, I’m going to think long and hard before I accept.
“I will, Lya. Pinky promise,” I say, holding out my pinky again.
She smirks. “You have to let me help you though.”
She’s scheming—I can see it in her eyes. This can’t be good. “Where are you going with this?”
“Let me do background checks on your future hubby and let our lawyer look at the contract before you sign it. Just to make sure nothing sleazy is happening.”
I guess that’s not too bad; it’s better than I was imagining. Lya cares so much about the people around her, she just wants to help any way she can. I can’t take that away from her.
