Page 32 of When Sinners Hate
“Oh, so you were listening.” His eyes narrow, and I offer a sly grin. “See, parameters. How much I can say without you reacting as I’ve experienced in the past. What you’re happy for me to say and not. It’s like a tightrope, and it isn’t a skill I’ve mastered yet.”
“You want a guide? Don’t fucking lie or hide things from me. I’ll know, and I hate it. Save the bullshit for someone else.”
“Fine. But then I want the same back in return.” I lean forward and interlock my fingers. “And considering we’re in a fake marriage, I’d wager it’s going to be harder than you think.”
He scrutinises me. “Considering there isn't anything fake about me, I don't see how.”
I’m struggling not to feel this as a trap. "And if I win, what do I get?” I ask.
“My car.”
"And what will you want if you win?"
“Peace.”
“What?”
He sighs and picks up a napkin, seeming exhausted about something. “An end to this, Alexia. We settle, and you attemptto show me exactly what you are without your past dominating you.”
Well, that surprises me. I think it over. He wouldn’t go into this without knowing he’s a sure bet, but I like the idea of winning his car from under him too much. “Deal.”
Our drinks arrive, and we order. I choose the ravioli in tomato consommé and return my gaze to Abel. He picks up his drink, having ordered himself, and another sigh drops out of him.
“Did you even like the beef last time?” he asks.
“It was adequate, but you said you didn’t want any lies. So no, I wasn’t a fan, and I don’t want to eat red meat again. It was on the menu at the wedding, which was out of my control. I’m not eating it again.”
“Fine.”
“You know,” I study Abel’s face and see the crease in his forehead begin to show. “Mariana and your mother aren’t seeing eye to eye.”
His face clears and he looks quizzically at me. “You’re spying?”
“Call it entertainment. I’m in that house alone all day, every day, unless you’ve sent for me or made plans, or I have my scheduled visit from Jamie. It’s why I asked about what I could do. I’m going out of my mind.”
“And you want me to fix that?”
“Well, offer a suggestion, at least. Or lift the ban on being escorted everywhere I go.”
He lifts his hand, and a waiter comes scurrying over. Seems he wants another drink. “Trust, Alexia. It doesn’t come quickly in this family.”
“Something you’ve made quite clear, but you’ve made me think that there’s a possibility of trust in the future. Like withthe car.” I sip my ice-cold sparkling water. “Although, I’m still confused over the whole business.”
“What don’t you understand?”
“Well, you. And your family. You clearly don’t respect women, yet Mariana is included in all family meetings around business that I can see. Your mother is the head of the family.” I watch his reaction to that needle. “And Wren is clearly the new princess of everything.”
“What don’t you understand?” he repeats.
“How can it be both? How can you include Mariana, trust her and involve her in your business, and Wren, although I know she doesn’t know everything, while paying so little respect to us?”
“Us?” The waiter uses that moment to bring another whisky and set it down. “You mean you.”
“Yes.”
He smiles like I’ve asked a stupid question that needs breaking down for me, only he doesn’t. The food arrives, and he sets about his meal.
“Well?” I prompt, feeling on the outside, like so many times in my life.