Page 120 of Ruthless Intent

“Ashley? Why are you hanging around up there?” Zain’s voice comes from behind me and as I turn, I feel a slight touch on my back and my foot slips off the step.

My heart stops, images of me falling down the stairs and breaking my neck flashing through my mind, but as I throw my arm out, hoping to catch hold of the handrail, I crash into something hard and warm.

An arm snakes around my waist, and I’m set back on my feet. Lips brush against my ear, and the warm breath as he speaks raises the fine hairs on the back of my neck.

“Throwing yourself down the stairs to get away from me is a little dramatic, don’t you think? Or were you throwing yourself into my arms? Your visual clues are hard to decipher sometimes.”

“I didn’t! I … I …” My heart is hammering against my ribs, I can barely catch my breath. My face is pressed against Zain’s shoulder, and with every inhale, I take in a lungful of his cologne.

“I must have startled her.” Sondra’s voice is sticky sweet behind me.

I turn to look up at her, and Zain’s arm snakes around my waist.

Sondra moves forward so she can look down at where I’m standing, but all I’m conscious of is the way my back is pressed against Zain’s chest, and how his arm is a tight band around my waist. Butterflies take off in my stomach, and I’m not entirely convinced it’s because of the fact I almost fell down the stairs.

“I’m so sorry, Ashley. Are you okay? You look positively white.” She doesn’t even sound convincing.

“I’m fine.” I can’t hide the tremor from my voice.

I wedge one hand beneath Zain’s arm and try to loosen his grip.

“You’re holding onto me too tight. I can’t breathe.”

“You could have broken your neck.” There’s an odd note to his voice.

I want to turn around and look at him, but I can’t move.

“I didn’t do it on purpose.”

“Are you sure about that?”

And just like that, I’m reminded of what he’s trying to do.

Did he tell Sondra to come up and talk to me on purpose?

Was this part of his plan?

Oh my god, is he trying to kill me?

“I’m going to be sick. Please let go of me.” He drops his arm, and I immediately run back up the stairs, past Sonda, and through the bedroom to the bathroom.

Standing in front of the sink, I splash cold water onto my face, and suck in a couple of deep breaths. I catch movement out of the corner of my eye, and lift my head to find Zain standing close behind me.

“What was the plan out there?”

I turn. “What do you mean?”

“Trip and fall? Sprain an ankle? Blame Sondra? Sue my parents? Claim I pushed you?”

“What?”

Is he really trying to say I was going to fall down the stairs on purpose?

“You heard me. It’d be an easy out, wouldn’t it? How were you going to make it work? Break a leg? Go to hospital, then whisper to the nurses that the big bad ex-con is blackmailing you?”

“No. Sondra?—”

“Sondra pushed you? That’s your story?”

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