Falling for the Killer

“I’m fine,” I said. “That was just my—” I stopped, not sure how to explain that I was being sold to that asshole because he had a good family name. “Just some guy,” I finished.

The stranger grinned. “Well, all right. My name’s Gian.”

“Ash,” I said.

He took my hand and shook it gently, then looked at my wrist. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine.” I pulled my hand away.

He shrugged and looked around. “You come to this sort of function a lot?” he asked, then looked at me and a handsome, lopsided smile spread across his lips. “Looks like you do.”

I blushed a little, not totally sure what he meant. “Sometimes,” I said. “My parents drag me along. How do you know Barry Plight?”

Gian shook his head. “I don’t. My employer does, though, and he brought me along.”

“Lucky you.” I tilted my head toward him. “Do you work in one of the hedge funds?”

He laughed like I said the most hilarious thing he’d ever heard. “Not exactly,” he said.

“What do you mean?” I asked, getting a little annoyed. I was happy he showed up and extricated me from Stuart’s grip, but I didn’t need him to be a condescending asshole to me now, too. I could go find Stuart if I wanted that.

“I’m in finance,” he said. “In a way. But I don’t work for a hedge fund.” He frowned slightly toward the bar against the far wall. “Looks like our boy’s not coming back. Let’s go get a drink.”

I opened my mouth to politely decline but he already walked off. I watched him go, then looked around for my mother, or my father or brother, but didn’t see anyone I knew. I could go looking for them, but the thought of listening to my mother make horrible small talk all night, or hearing my father drone on about business made me want to be sick.

Besides, Gian was the most interesting person I’d met in a long time, and he scared the crap out of Stuart. For that, I was grateful. And one drink wouldn’t matter.

I joined him at the far end of the bar. We were tucked away in a little corner, behind a stack of cups and olives. The bartender brought him a whiskey and another glass of wine for me, and he did a little cheers.

“So what’s the deal with you and that guy?” Gian asked.

“It’s complicated,” I said.

“Is he usually such an asshole?”

“Yes,” I said, smiling. “Fortunately I haven’t dealt with him much.” And my smile slowly faded when I remembered that would change very soon.

“What’s going on there then?” Gian asked.

“You ask a lot of questions,” I said, wrinkling my nose. “It’s not polite, you know.”

“I’m not a very polite man,” Gian said, shrugging. He sipped his drink and watched me, his eyes on mine, his entire attention drilled down and hyper-focused on me. It was strange and intoxicating. I’m used to men in a certain social sphere that don’t give a damn about women, and are mostly waiting for them to stop talking so they can make some aggressive sexual move, or so they can go on about Bitcoin or cryptocurrency or whatever.

Gian seemed genuinely interested, and I figured I’d never see him again, so I told him the truth about my family and about my weird engagement to Stuart. When I finished, he stroked his chin and leaned back against the wall behind him.

“I’ve heard of things like that before,” he said. “Marriages between families. You don’t seem excited about it though.”

“Stuart’s not my type,” I admitted.

“What is your type then?” he asked with a little smirk.

I blushed and stared down at my wine. It was shockingly half gone. I felt the urge to say, you are, but swallowed that down. Instead, I only shook my head.

He laughed at my reaction. “Lighten up,” he said. “I’m only teasing. Look, if you don’t want to marry the guy, there’s got to be a way out, right?”

“You don’t understand,” I said, trying my best to smile. “The family comes first.”

“I do understand,” he said, eyes blazing again. “Better than you’d think. But if the family were worth that kind of devotion, they’d never force you into something.”

I shrugged a little and ran my finger around the rim of the glass. He was right, of course—if my family were decent people and worth my undying loyalty, they’d never make me marry Stuart to begin with. But unfortunately, they were a bunch of selfish bastards, and I was expected to do the right thing whether I liked it or not.

And I knew I would. As much as I’d fight and complain and make comments, in the end I’d fall in line and marry Stuart. Maybe I was a coward, or maybe I just loved my family, or maybe something in between. I didn’t know for sure, but I was born with this and I knew I’d never escape it.