Page 29 of Filthy Little Games

And I’m going to be his wife.

8

Creed

Ipark the SUV in the garage and lock it up with the harmless-looking roll of carpet in the cargo area before taking Zara up to my penthouse apartment.

She’s silent as we take the service elevator to avoid running into people because of my new stench and her lack of attire.

No doubt, she’s already second-guessing this decision.

I was stunned she hesitated to choose between death and marrying me.

The woman is a complete mystery. Some of my men wouldn’t handle a cold-blooded murder with her amount of composure. They sure as hell couldn’t throw out ideas as fast as Zara either. I have to admit they’ve been good ideas so far.

Still, it’s impossible to forget that she played a role in Carmine’s death, and I will never be able to forgive her. I can’t forget the threat she poses to me if she runs her mouth.

“You’ll sleep in my bedroom, so I can keep an eye on you. You’ll be free to move around the penthouse when I’m not asleep, but this is still a confinement for you. I don’t want to have to restrain you, but I will if you try anything.”

“Again, where would I go?” she asks. “I can’t go to the police, since I’m guilty here, too, and even if I didn’t hate Emilio, he would blame me for Izaiah’s death.”

“You don’t have any family in the city?”

“No. My parents live up in Pearl River. I haven’t seen them since I moved to the city seven years ago. I would rather die than ask them for a damn thing. And in case you’re wondering, I work twelve hours a day most days, so my only friends are the grocery delivery drivers.”

All right then.

“At least you won’t have to work twelve-hour shifts anymore,” I point out to her.

“That’s not exactly the benefit you think it is,” Zara replies solemnly. “The only time I’ve ever been even sort of free is when I’m earning a paycheck rather than depending on someone else to pay my way.”

I’m not entirely sure what that means. I want to ask as I unlock the door to my apartment, but I have company.

“Finally!” Dre’s voice announces from my living room. “Wake up, shithead. He’s home,” he says, I assume, to Tristan.

Zara and I turn the corner of the partial wall that blocks off the foyer. I give her a warning look over my shoulder, and she returns it with a single nod of understanding.

Fuck, I hope I can trust her. If not…well, I’ll do what I need to do.

And so much for adamantly refusing to marry a woman who doesn’t want to be in the same room as me…

“What are you two doing here so late?” I ask when we’re standing at the entrance to the living room. I was hoping to makethis introduction tomorrow after I had a shower and sleep, but I guess that’s not going to happen.

Dre sits up from where he’s lounging on one of my sofas in his normal business attire, minus the shoes. He examines Zara carefully, from the messy curls on top of her head to the pink toenails sticking out of her flipflops. “We were waiting for you. Got worried when you didn’t show for our poker game or answer any of our text messages.”

“I didn’t know the game was still on,” I admit. Tonight would’ve been the first game since we lost Carmine. Maybe I just didn’t want to ask because I’m not ready to sit at the poker table without him next to me.

“Who’s your…friend, Creed?” Dre asks.

“This is Zara. Zara, these are my cousins, Dre and Tristan.”

She gives them a small wave and a forced smile. I’ve seen hostage videos with more enthusiasm. “Hi. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Finally?

Turning my back to the guys, I lift an eyebrow in question that they can’t see. Taking a step toward me, she reaches for my hand as if in answer. The warmth and strength in her sure grip feels so authentic that it makes me momentarily forget my line of thought.

We’re not a real couple. This is just a risky little arrangement I came up with on the drive home because I knew I wouldn’t be able to bring myself to kill her. I need her to think that I hate her enough to do it, though, if I want her cooperation.

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