18. Arsen
18
ARSEN
“The meeting went well, don’t you think? I thought it went well.” Laila drums her fingers against her thigh. She kept her nerves hidden during the meeting with her lawyer, but they’re out in full force now that we’re back in my car. “She seems really competent. You said she went to Yale?”
“I didn’t hire her because of her pedigree,” I reply. “I hired her because she’s a shark. She’ll take care of you.”
Laila turns to me, her eyes still searching. “She said they could throw out the case before it even sees a courtroom.”
“She did say that.”
She allows herself a little smile. “That’s good news. I hate courtrooms.”
I peek over at her as we drive away from the lawyer’s office. She’s in a simple red sundress, face barely touched with makeup, but something about her is so beautiful it hurts.
“Mom used to bring me to court for the divorce,” she explains, gazing out the window. “I used to sit there for hours, watching people come and go, waiting for our turn in front of the judge. It wasn’t exactly a highlight of my youth.”
“If I get my way, you’ll never have to endure a single second more in the same room as Charles.”
She inclines her head in silent thanks. “We should probably set up another meeting, huh? Just to go over the history of the house, ownership records, that kind of thing.”
She asks me like I might know. Like my usual method of dealing with this kind of thing doesn’t involve my fists and a shallow grave.
But it’s important to Laila to do this the right way, slow and ineffective as it might be, so I can do my best.
“I can arrange that.” I point to the clock on the dash. “You hungry? We can grab lunch while we’re out.”
I say it casually. Because I am casual. I have Laila all to myself for the first time in months, and I’m the picture of cool, collected calm.
Her smile falters. “That’s okay. I ate before we left for the meeting.”
“That was hours ago. You must be hungry.”
“No,” she insists too quickly. “I’m fine. I’d rather just go home.”
“Meaning you’d rather starve than share a meal with me.” I don’t mean to push her, but I can’t stop myself.
Her hands tighten in her lap, and she doesn’t deny it. “I appreciate that you’re helping me with this lawsuit, but nothing has changed between us.”
Nothing has changed.
Yes, Laila needed help, and yes, I jumped in to save her without hesitation.
Still, nothing has changed.
All the times Marie told me to open up and be honest and vulnerable with Laila echo in the back of my head. I’m sure the woman is shaking her head from the other side of the veil, disappointed in my pitiful attempts to make things right.
Maybe that’s why I blurt, “I hate courtrooms, too.”
Laila’s head swivels towards me. She doesn’t say a word, but I’ve got her attention.
“I remember the first time I was marched into one. Handcuffs on my feet and bailiffs holding either arm, just licking their chops for the chance to beat my head in with batons… The judge looked at me like I was trash at his feet. I knew I was a goner.”
“I can’t believe you couldn’t charm him,” she murmurs, almost unwillingly. “You charm everyone.”
“Between a nice smile and money, money always wins.”
“You mean…?”
“He was bought. My grandfather bribed him. Yeremy wanted to see me sentenced.”
“I almost forgot about that,” she murmurs. “I just don’t understand how you can put your own grandson behind bars. For something he was doing on your behalf.”
I shrug a shoulder. “I wasn’t good at following orders. I questioned him one too many times. I guess that was his way of showing me who was boss.”
“Still—you were so young.”
“I was a man in all the ways that mattered to a person like him.”
She eyes me sadly. “Were you scared?”
“For the first time in my life, I didn’t even have my name to carry me through. With my grandfather against me, I was working with nothing more than my wits.” I give her a melancholy smile. “So, yes—I was fucking terrified.”
Her gaze goes to the scars on my arms. “I can’t imagine going through what you went through…”
“I wasn’t alone. I had Jasper.”
“That’s the man who introduced himself at Mom’s funeral?”
She’s looking at me, so she doesn’t notice me taking an unnecessary left turn. She may not want to go to lunch with me, but that doesn’t mean I can’t drag out this car ride a little longer.
“That’s the one.” I shake my head. “He’s an idiot. And a screw-up. But for some reason, I keep giving him chance after chance.”
“I’m sure you have a reason. You always do.”
Per usual, Laila isn’t wrong.
“Jasper was my first friend,” I explain, once again amazed by how sad that statement is. “He stuck his neck out for me when he didn’t have to—when there was nothing in it for him. He smuggled cigarettes in for everyone, so he’d carved out a place for himself in the hierarchy.”
“And where were you on the totem pole?”
That draws out a bitter laugh. “I was Yeremy Adamov’s grandson. So I was immediately seen as a threat. Someone tried to shank me in my sleep the first night in.”
She claps two hands to her face in horror. “What happened to ‘honor amongst thieves’?”
“There’s no room for honor in prison. It’s kill or be killed. My roommate wanted to get on the alpha’s good side, so he jimmied the cell door and let in one of the man’s goons. It was five on one. They beat me up pretty bad. That’s how I got this one.” I point to the thin white scar on the side of my forehead.
“What about the guards?” Laila whispers. “Why didn’t they stop it?”
“The guards were more interested in placing bets on who would survive ‘til the end of the month.”
Her jaw drops. “You’re not serious?”
“They all bet against me.” I smirk. “I lost those fuckwits a ton of money. One of the proudest days of my life.”
“Jesus,” she says. “What happened afterwards?”
“I was found unconscious on the floor of my cell the next day. Spent three nights in the medical wing. When I returned to max, I was basically a pariah. If anyone was seen talking to me, offering me so much as a pudding cup, they were automatically blacklisted as well.”
“Our justice system at work. How lovely.”
I take it as a good sign that she seems so worked up on my behalf. “Jasper walked up to me two days after I re-entered max. He did it in the middle of the cafeteria, right under everyone’s nose. Handed me a cigarette and told me I looked like I needed it.”
“He blacklisted himself?”
“I guess he didn’t like playing by the rules, either.”
“Did he get flack for befriending you like that?”
“Controlling the cigarette supply meant he got some immunity, but I wasn’t beneficial for him, I can tell you that. But that’s who Jasper was—I could count on him. Back then, at least.”
As we approach the house, I slow down, desperate to draw out this moment for as long as possible.
Laila fusses with her hair, then sighs and looks at me. “Arsen, why are you telling me all this?”
I hear Marie’s voice in the back of my head. I can practically feel her nudging me forward.
“Because I’ve never told anyone else,” I explain softly. “Because you’re my wife.”