Page 38 of Psychopath

Quinn blew out a breath through his teeth.

“Is it not the answer you wanted?” Zane raised an eyebrow. “I’m sure I can adjust and say the words you want me to.”

“I don’t want you to lie. I want you to respond truthfully.”

“Even when you pull confused expressions?”

“Just…” Quinn circled his hand in front of his face. “Ignore this.”

“That’s impossible.”

“Inappropriate.”

Zane rested his elbows on the table and leaned forward. Quinn couldn’t make notes under the weight of his gaze and glanced up.

“It’s not inappropriate. If I said your lips look plump and inviting, your skin soft and markable, and those big blue eyes of yours are enticing—”

“Zane,” Quinn whispered in warning.

Zane raised his hands in surrender. “I said if I said that, it would’ve been inappropriate, but I didn’t.”

“You’ve never had a girlfriend or boyfriend?”

“No.”

“So you’ve never taken someone on a date or been taken on one?”

“There was no need—”

“It’s not about need, but desire. Didn’t you ever want to take anyone out?”

Zane shrugged. “Sex seemed more appealing than a relationship.”

“Why?”

“I never knew who was genuine. I’d seen what women were like with my dad, and sex was easier, more fun, no strings. The press labelled me a sex addict when I turned twenty-three.”

Quinn huffed. “But you weren’t—you aren’t a sex addict?”

“If I was, I’m certainly not now.” He laughed.

“There’s definitely a common theme…”

“Which is?”

“The press. It must’ve been hard being the son of someone famous and having all this unwanted attention. Article after article. Lie after lie.”

“Do you know how old I was the first time I was papped?”

Quinn shook his head.

“I was ten. They followed me into a game store and cornered me. I didn’t know who any of these men were or why they were taking pictures of me, but it was terrifying. They wrote an article about how I was obsessed with violent video games, but they’d backed me into a corner with them.”

“Do you hate those men for that?”

“I was scared. The press, they hound and harass. Your life isn’t your own; it’s what they make it. They only left me alone after I came here. No more stories to sell now I’m locked away, no unexpected camera flashes or women with their phones set to record to catch me out with something I say, something they asked me to say but edited to make me look unhinged.”

Quinn knew what Zane was referring to. There was a news report with audio of him demeaning and name-calling a woman while they had sex. She swore he switched, like Jekyll and Hyde, and he defended himself, saying she’d asked him to call her names and snarl in her face. No charges were made, but it didn’t matter. The press was all over it.

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