Page 13 of Psychopath

Zane sighed. “My reputation as a lothario. He warned me to keep my private life private, but I was foolish and the press wanted a piece of me, and I let them have…all of me.”

“How do you think he would feel about your current…situation if he were alive today?”

Zane gazed up at the overhead light and folded his arms. “I wouldn’t be here if he was still alive.”

“You don’t think that night would’ve happened if he was here?”

Zane smirked. “Course it wouldn’t have.”

“Why not?”

Zane leaned over the table, and Quinn retreated and pressed his back into his chair. “He wouldn’t have wanted me to be here, but now he’s dead, it doesn’t matter. I’m in this room because I want to be here.”

“You volunteered—”

“I’m not talking about the study, I’m talking about here. In this building. In this wing. In this room. I want to be here, so I’m here.”

“You’re here because you killed two people. Danny and Jessica Saunders. Friends of your dad’s.”

Zane hummed. “Exactly.”

“How do you think your dad would’ve felt about that?”

“I doubt he would’ve liked it much, but if he was here…if I could speak to him right now, I think I could talk him round to my way of thinking. I think I could make him understand.”

Quinn bit his lip. “Understand what?”

“Why I made the choices I made that led to me being here, sat this side of the desk, answering your questions.” He smiled toothily. “Right now, I don’t regret any of them.”

“But sometimes you do?”

Zane’s smile faded. “Sometimes.”

“Because you feel guilt? Remorse?”

“No. Because it gets boring in here.”

Quinn nodded. “Did your father ever…remarry?”

“No, he had plenty of girlfriends, but I saw them for what they were.”

“And what were they?”

“Gold diggers. When you’re a billionaire, a known billionaire, they hover around like flies near a carcass. He’d give in to a particularly pretty looking fly, or an energetic one, or a flexible one.” Zane smirked. “But they were only there for the money, and they didn’t interact with me.”

“Did you want them to?”

“Hell no.”

“Did you feel sad for your dad about these women using him?”

Zane shook his head. “Maybe I would’ve if he’d loved them, but he didn’t. He only ever loved my mother, and she left him with no explanation. He never got over that, and any woman he dated was purely for physical reasons, but I knew he was lonely. Even with me there too, he was lonely. He missed her.” Zane grimaced. “I’ll never understand that.”

“What?”

“Loving someone like that, unable to move on. It’s the one thing I didn’t like about my dad. I found it kind of pathetic.”

Quinn blinked. He’d paused his pencil, hesitating to write the word pathetic. He lifted his gaze, and Zane was watching him. It was a calculating look. He squinted slightly.

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