Eight
Simone
“Are you serious?” I asked.
“Have you ever known me to be anything but?”
I hadn’t. And now was no different.
“Do you see that?” I pointed toward the door at the far end of the room.
The one that had a blood-stained cheek pressed against it.
At least the body that the cheek belonged to wasn’t moving, but the way the cheek jerked and slid across the blood-specked glass told me something just out of sight was feasting.
“I do. What of it?”
I gawked at him. “Rubin, you just accepted a working theory that the dead are walking, and you want to talk about this of all things?” I said.
“If that theory is true, we might not have another opportunity. Stop filibustering. Answer.” His expression was granite. “You betrayed me, Simone. You lied to me, Simone. You owe me your life.”
I let out a bitter chuckle. “You’ve made your position on that very clear, Rubin.”
“So then tell me why.”
I swallowed. Met his eyes. “You shouldn’t kill me because I’m useful.”
I was proud that my voice didn’t tremble, but my heart raced. And Rubin knew that.
Of course he knew. Reading people was how he’d built his empire—how he’d maintained it against countless foes. It was nothing for him to rip down the walls I’d meticulously constructed and study the fear that had always lived underneath. But I couldn’t let that stop me.
“I can help here, assuming that we have to stay. I…” I looked at him, knowing that my reasoning was weak.
He didn’t.
“Because you’re good at math. You think that makes you worth something?”
I looked at him again, seeing the crease in his forehead, saw that he, unlike me, didn’t have sweat on his brow.
I swiped at my face, a nervous and very unladylike habit, but dropped my hand when the scent of that awful carpet deodorizer hit me.
Finally I looked at Rubin. I studied the face I’d remember until the day I died. Pored over it like it was a ledger tallying my misdeeds. I didn’t need to be good at math to know the numbers were not in my favor.
I had one option.
“And because you want me,” I finally said.
His brow quirked up. A millimeter. Not even that, really. But I saw it.
And I’d managed to say the words without wavering, one of the few times my voice didn’t fail me.
“You betrayed me, Simone.”
“I did. And that doesn’t matter, because you still want me.” My voice was firmer this time.
“And so? What are you offering?”
“You know what I’m offering, Mr. Marku.”
“Say it.”
“Myself,” I said, forcing myself to meet his eyes.
His expression was almost approving.
But I wasn’t off the hook. “Very strategic, but I’d expect no less because you understand your predicament. What makes you think you’re in a position to offer me anything that I couldn’t just take?”
He didn’t move any closer, but he didn’t have to. I didn’t need more physical proximity to know that I was at Rubin’s mercy. “Because that would be easy. Because that would violate besa. You swore no harm would come to me.”
His eyes flashed with rage. “You’d dare mention besa after what you’ve done. You think a vow you threw away will protect you? Try again.”
I thinned my lips but kept holding his gaze. “Because you don’t want my body, Rubin.”
He quirked a brow.
“Well, not just my body.”
“What do I want?”
“You want me to ask—beg—for your forgiveness, so you can deny me.”
“And is this you asking for forgiveness?”
“No, but I’m asking for mercy.”
His lips lifted and he laughed. Actually laughed. “You think you deserve mercy?”
I shook my head. “I think what I think doesn’t matter. I know that as much as you hate me, you want me just as much and you want to break me most of all.”
The words came out like I believed them.
I wished I did, knew that would make things easier.
But when had things ever been easy with Rubin?
Not when I’d been too terrified to look at him, let alone speak to him.
Not later when speaking to him had led to dreaming of him, had led to yearning for him, even with the knowledge he’d never want me back.
“You’re playing games, Simone,” Rubin whispered.
“No, this is not a game. This is me explaining why you shouldn’t kill me.”
I held his gaze, even though he looked like he wanted to throttle me. But something told me he wouldn’t.
I hoped it was true.
Because I had just staked my life on a wish.
And a lie.