Page 239 of House of Cards

I should pack up Zoey’s things tonight. Put her in a car, and send her somewhere far. She’ll disappear into the wind, and I’ll go back to being the monster who doesn’t have a heart to break.

I’ve been telling myself that for weeks now.

Can’t seem to find the words.

“We’ve spoken about this.”

Zoey’s voice drifts in from the doorway, sulky, raspy. She’s wearing one of my shirts and a pair of sleep shorts, her hair a wild mess from the pillow.

The tightness in my chest loosens. It always does when she’s around.

“Just finishing up.” I close out the video, turning to face her, beckoning her closer.

She pads over on bare feet, crawling into my lap like she belongs there. Like she’s always belonged there.

There’s barely any light left in the room now that the laptop is closed, but I easily pick out the marks on her thighs. Marks made by my knife.

“You’re an hour past curfew. There will be a reconciling of accounts.” She nuzzles against my neck, teasing me with her teeth.

“Is that a threat?” I murmur as I burrow my nose into her hair, taking a deep hit of the floral scent of her shampoo that’s taken over my entire suite.

“God, I hope so. I have no clue what you’re talking about half the time when you bore me with your accounting stuff. We still meeting Myles for brunch tomorrow?” she murmurs.

Myles. Happy for the first time in months because his friend isn’t self-destructing anymore. And Richmond’s just as chippernow that he’s taken over the Angels again. I guess the best thing you can for a person with an addictive personality is give them a meaningful job to do.

“Yup. Ricky joining us again?”

“Yup,” Zoey replies, a laugh in her voice. “Soon as his asshole of a boss approves his leave request.”

That earns her a slap on her thigh. It’s no surprise that Ricky makes such a good dealer. He knows the card games by heart, and can spot a cheater a mile away. I thought he would have hated the restrictions I put in place, but Zoey says he loves living in the hotel, and thinks room service is God’s gift to men.

It’s a win-win, because I can monitor him to make sure he doesn’t contact the Bogota cartel again. Fuck knows why he would want to, but I didn’t get where I was today by going around taking everyone on their word.

Everyone’s happy because I’m happy.

Christ, what a thought.

Before I met Zoey, I’d thought happiness was something that happened to other people.

I’m still waiting for the other shoe to drop. Perhaps I’ll always be waiting.

I trail my fingers over the ridges on her thighs, my heart soaring at the memory of each line I carved there. I still can’t believe she lets me hurt her, lets me tend to her, lets mekeepher.

“Whatever you’re thinking, the answer is no,” she says, pulling back to look at me, cupping my face.

“You don’t know what I’m thinking.”

“You’re thinking about sending me away again.” Her voice is matter-of-fact.

I should lie. Should deflect.

But I can’t. Not with her. Not anymore. It’s harder to lie than it is to tell the truth, and I’m not sure when I became so broken that I thought the opposite was true.

“You’ll never be safe here, kitten. It’s only a matter of time?—“

She presses my lips closed, shrugs. “Let them come.”

I pull my head away, dislodging her fingers. “Zoey?—”