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Chapter 8
Zephyr
Zephyrhadoncegone on a school trip from Los Fortis a hundred miles south, and that had been the most adventurous she’d ever been. Aside from that, the only trips she’d been on had been to visit her aunts who lived an hour away. She’d never left the country, much less the continent, and never been on a flight, much less one like this.
Victor and Diaz, another guy she’d been introduced to, less hot but more charming, sat in the back of the private plane as their security detail on the trip. Hector was staying back, clearly being Alpha's second-in-command, to keep everything under control for the two days they’d be gone.
She looked around the inside of the private jet she’d been ushered and strapped onto, at the lush beige seats and gleaming wooden table and the neat walls, and it truly sank in for the first time—he’d made it. From the boy she had first seen with the torn clothes to the man who now wore an expensive leather jacket and owned a private jet, he’d made it out, and though she couldn’t tell him, she felt something like pride bubble inside her. And lord, she wished Adriana—the kind, dying woman who had befriended a scared little girl in a strange place to give her comfort—could have seen her son now. She'd have been proud.
Zephyr turned to the window and blinked rapidly, trying to clear away the burn in her eyes and the sting in her nose. He was suspicious about her motives anyway, and she didn’t need to give him more reason to think she was crazier and cried at nothing.
A slender blond with really nice hair handed them some water. “Would you like anything else?”
Zephyr thanked her. “Just a quick question, is that your natural hair color?”
The blond blinked in surprise. “Yes.”
Damn. “It’s a lovely shade. You’re rocking it.”
The attendant gave her a surprised smile and left, and she turned to see the man across from her watching her as though he was trying to figure her out.
“What?” she demanded, slightly conscious of the way he was analyzing her.
He didn’t say anything for a while, just studying her, and Zephyr tried to relax, wondering what went on in his head.
“Let’s get some things straight between us,” he said as preamble, and Zephyr braced herself. “Your grandmother’s fund might be the excuse you’re giving to me, and a whirlwind romance an excuse you’re giving your family, but I know you have another motive for marrying me. The only reason you’re my wife right now is that I’m intrigued. I don’t know what your endgame is, but I will figure it out, so don’t think I’m fooled for one second.”
God, she hoped he figured it out, but if he didn’t remember her after spending all the time with her, she doubted he would. But she wouldn’t tell him that. Knowing how cynical he was, it would backfire in her own face. His lack of memory probably had something to do with his eye injury. Maybe, his brain had blocked some stuff out to protect him. She’d seen that happen in movies but it was realistically plausible, and until she spoke to someone who knew trauma about it, she wasn't going to say a thing and risk retraumatizing him.
No, she had to make him love her all over again, this new him with this new her. It could happen.
“And I don’t know where you got your information about me,” he continued, his voice rough and deep, reminding her of wilderness. “But I will find that out too. I hope it ends up being only for your grandmother’s heirlooms because you won’t like the alternative.”
He was kinda hot when he was threatening her, though she doubted he’d appreciate it if she said that to his face at the moment.
“Now I just need to figure out if you’re one hell of a liar or not.”
Zephyr took a sip of her water. “I’m an open book.”
Alpha mimicked her movement and drank his water, the motion of the muscles in his neck very sexy. God, he’d gotten sexier over the years, and she had no shame in admitting she wanted him in bed, out of bed, against the wall, whatever way she could have him.
“Just in case you’re not a liar—” he placed his glass on the table between them, his hand enhancing the fragility of the glass, “—consider this a simple warning not to expect anything romantic from this relationship. My curiosity about you does not equal romantic interest. If you expect anything on those lines, you will be disappointed. I don’t love.”
Liar. He did love, he just didn’t want to. But she knew he had his shields in place, and this Alpha clearly had a shit ton of trust issues, so she didn’t take his warning lightly. She'd have to wade through these waters with the baggage of his past and hope they could make it to the shore.
“Too bad,” she shrugged lightly. “I tend to get attached to my lovers.”
“I’m not your lover,” he reminded her.
She smiled.
“I won’t be your lover either.” The side of his jaw ticced. “Lust leaves me empty now. It’s better in the long run anyway.”
“So I’ll be what… your roommate?” she huffed a laugh.
He tapped his fingers on the table between them. He liked tapping things. God, her brain was a smutwreck.
“You can have your own room." Tap, tap, tap. "For the duration of the marriage, let’s just share each other’s company. I find you interesting enough. We can be cordial, but it’s best not to complicate things more by adding anything sexual in the mix.”
