It's a fact that you can't help who you fall in love with. And for Rosaline Davenport and him, it definitely shouldn't have been each other.
Because, sometimes, love stories have blood on them.
[warning: this is the mother of all slow-burns]
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【 44.
Forty-four
Qurbat 】
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[ Qurbat • closeness ]
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ZACHARY TAPS HIS index finger on the arm of the chair he’s in, seated right across Charles Davenport in the study of the Davenport home and looking around the neatly-maintained room as the Senator responds to yet another call. Their conversation was interrupted several times because of the phone ringing, which is a given considering the guy’s position in this state.
As soon as he hears the receiver being placed back down, Zachary shifts his gaze to the Senator and away from a photograph of Rose on the large desk between both men.
“You didn’t seem surprised to hear about someone sending a photograph to a gossip magazine,” Zachary points out, leaning back into the chair and crossing one leg over the other. Both his hands rest on the arms of the chair, fingers noiselessly tapping the wooden surface in a consistent pattern.
Senator Davenport only spares Zachary a glance before reaching for a thick leather folder and leafing through its contents. “Just because you’ve only now caught onto the prying eyes, doesn’t mean they weren’t always there.”
Zachary frowns immediately, and his fingers stop in their taptaptap motions. “Have there been other such instances?”
The man across him scoffs lightly, shaking his head to himself as he snaps the folder closed and turns in his chair to search through a stack of stapled documents on the corner of the desk.
“Well?” Zachary pushes, growing impatient.
Senator Davenport looks away from the papers for a brief second, glancing at Zachary before going back to his task. “Did you think the media wouldn’t catch wind of Zachary Hawthorne, husband of the deceased woman found next to Micah Bonovich, the late ADA of Chicago and the son-in-law of the Senator of Illinois, arriving in Chicago of all places?”
“I knew there was a risk,” he mutters under his breath, looking away from the profile of Charles Davenport rummaging through the contents on his work desk, obviously looking for something after that recent phone call he received.
“But you came anyway.”
Zachary’s eyes snap to the man. “For Rose,” he says sharply, “not as a means to get on your nerves.”
“For Rose?” Senator Davenport’s eyes narrow as they meet Zachary’s. “Did you ever stop to think the things you do in the name of protecting her only worsens the situation?”
