Chapter 17

 

Zaira

 

“So Mia tells me you were away visiting a client?” I ask Vince. We’re sitting outside on the pool deck. This place has become my favorite place on the compound. I love the atmosphere, and with the warmth of the sun and the light breeze, I find all I want to do is to be outside.

“Yes, I had to go to Pennsylvania. A friend of Michael’s was in trouble, and he asked me to help out,” he replies.

“Is he guilty?” I ask curiously.

“Zaira, you may not remember who you are, but you know a lawyer can’t talk about a case. Don’t try to coax it out of me either. You’ve tried before, and it never works,” he says, and it warms my heart to know I am behaving normal in his eyes. Perhaps more of my memory is coming back than I thought.

“So, you and Mia hung out yesterday?” he asks.

“Yes, and we had so much fun. I do hope she will visit more often. You know she’s welcome here anytime. Even Michael told her that.”

“I know,” he says with a nod. “Have any memories come back?”

“Not really, just sorta visions.”

“Like what?”

I really don’t want to go into detail with Vince—not like I did with Michael—so I just say, “They were vague. A proposal and an argument. I didn’t recognize anyone in the visions except myself.”

“So nothing tangible?”

“Not really, except I have good feelings about Mia and Michael.”

He laughs. “Feelings?”

“I don’t know how to explain it, but it’s like I’ve known them all my life, but I don’t know them.”

“You have known them all your life,” he says. “But you don’t have those feelings with me?”

“Not exactly. I feel like you are hiding something from me. You’ve done something you think will make me lose some respect for you,” I say. If I wasn’t watching him so closely, I would have missed him flinch when I mentioned about him doing something bad. I knew it. Now, I wonder if he will tell me what it is.

When he doesn’t respond, I decide to let him stew a bit, and I change the subject. “So Michael and I had a very interesting conversation last night.”

“Oh, yeah?” he asks.

“He told me about our families. He told me we were organized crime and that we have a lot of enemies.”

 

“Did he now?” Vince asks.

“Yes, he did. He also told me Father had a lot of enemies and that many people wanted him dead.” Vince doesn’t say anything, so I continue. “He said someone murdered both of our parents.” Vince turns white, but I don’t give him time to respond. “He said Mom was murdered five years ago, and he has a pretty good idea who did it.”

“And our father?” he asks cautiously.

“He said Father was murdered the night I hit my head and that he knows who did it,” I say.

“Did he tell you who?”

“No, he won’t tell me. He said there were things he would not be able to tell me for various reasons, and this was one of them.”

“He’s right,” he says, relieved. “There are things, for your own protection, you must never know.”

“Yeah, that’s what he said.” I look at him curiously, hoping he will give me more, but when he says nothing, I add, “But he said he would avenge their deaths. He promised.”

Vince turns toward me and says angrily, “What?”

“Don’t be mad at him, Vince. I made him promise me he’d do it.”

“Why would you ask such a thing of him?”

“Because whoever killed them cannot go unpunished, Vince. Surely you know that.”

He gives me a strange look and says, “I better go. I just got back last night, and I have shitload of cases to catch up on.”

“Oh. So soon?” I ask.

He gets up from his chair. “Sorry, love.” He kisses me on the cheek. “I’ll try to come by tomorrow. No need to show me out. I know the way,” he says and turns to leave.

“Okay. Bye, Vince,” I call after him.

With Vince gone, the quiet of the pool relaxes me. I should go upstairs and change into my bathing suit, but I’m too comfortable listening to the quiet ripples of the pool water pumping in and out of the filters. Before I know it, I’ve fallen asleep.

 

***

 

“Zaira.”

“Zaira, wake up.”

“Zaira.”

I slowly open my eyes, and standing before me is Michael. He’s got on a pair of jeans that hang low around his waist and a black T-shirt. I can see every ripple of muscle through the dark cotton fabric, and even in my sleepy state, I find I want nothing more than to touch him.

“Hi,” I say huskily.

“You fell asleep. You will get sunburned if you stay out here too long, Zaira. You should go inside,” he says. Sometimes, I swear he treats me like a child. Sometimes it’s endearing, but most of the time, it’s infuriating.

“Thank you for the advice, but I think I will stay out here a little while longer,” I reply defiantly.

He sits on the lounge next to me and says, “Why do you always fight me?” He sounds defeated, and instead of being angry with him, I begin to empathize. I’ve been pushing him. I’ve not made this situation easy for him, but he hasn’t made things easy for me either. But something is bothering him now, and I need to think about him instead of myself.

“I’m sorry, Michael. I don’t mean to,” I say.

“Are you happy here?” he asks.

Whoa! Where did that come from? I mean, he always makes sure I have everything I need, but now suddenly he’s concerned with my happiness? “Honestly?” I ask.

“Yes.”

“Yes…and no,” I say.

“What makes you happy?” he asks.

“You, your family, the staff. Everyone here is so nice to me, and I feel like I am at home. I don’t feel like a guest. This is the only home I know.”

He nods. “This is your home. It will always be your home as long as you want it.”

“What do you mean by as long as I want it?”

He looks at the ground. “Because I believe there will come a day when you will want to be anywhere but here. You will run, and you won’t want to see me.”

I look at him curiously. “What makes you think that? You’ve been nothing but kind to me—well, except…” I let my words trail off. He knows exactly where I was going with that. I really don’t see the need to say it out loud.

“Is that what makes you unhappy?” he asks. He’s being tender, and for the first time, I’m seeing a vulnerable side to him. Something has got him worried, and he is searching for reassurances.

“What?” I ask.

“We both know what you were about to say: except for the fact that I keep pushing you away. Right?”

I nod. “There is a connection between us, Michael, and you keep denying it. I don’t understand. We’re engaged to be married. I’m gonna be your wife, and I know for a fact that you find me sexually attractive, so why do you fight it?”

He looks up at me and smiles. “You’re right. I think you are very attractive, and there are times I want nothing more than to spend an eternity in bed with you. But you don’t know everything. There are things I can’t tell you. Things I’ve done…things that will make you run as far away from me as you can get. I won’t compromise you if in the end you want nothing to do with me.”

He is talking in riddles. What in the world does he mean about “in the end”? What could he have possibly done that would make me run from him? He’s amazingly kind and loving—well, except when I push him too far and then he’s abrupt and taciturn. But that behavior is partly my fault.

I try to reassure him. “Michael, you’re being ridiculous. There is nothing you could possibly do to make me run from you. I’m gonna be your wife, baby.”

He smirks, and a look of sadness crosses his face. “You will run.” He stands from the lounge and turns back toward the house.

“Michael, why don’t you sit out here with me a while?” I call after him.

Still walking toward the house, he shakes his head. I watch him walk away, admiring his incredibly taut ass, narrow waist, and broad shoulders. I see his back muscles flex as he walks. He really is beautiful. And, he’s wrong. I would never leave him, I think to myself as he disappears into the house. Hopefully one day soon, he will realize it too.