Page 54 of Ashes
“What’s your favorite color?” I blurted out.
His brows furrowed and he returned his attention to the road. “My favorite color?”
“Are you going to repeat everything I say? Yes, your favorite color.”
“Why?”
“We’re married, Jamal,” I said sternly. “If we’re going to make this marriage believable as per your request, we need to know each other. Or at least pretend to.”
“And knowing my favorite color is going to convince people we’re madly in love with each other?”
“Never mind.”
We went back to the familiar silence before he let out a long sigh.
“Do I get something if I agree?”
“If you’re a good boy and answer everything I ask,” I replied without thinking.
He spoke before I could say something else to mask what I’d just said. “Brown,” he revealed. “I’m only answering five questions, and you already asked one. So if we’re doing this, ask better questions.”
I straightened in my seat and tucked a leg under me, shifting to face him. “That’s not fair.”
“I never said I was. Take it or leave it.”
“Of all the colors, you chose brown,” I said, conceding.
“You said you wanted to ask me questions, not judge my answers.”
I held my hands up. “Fair enough. Mine’s purple, in case you were wondering.
“What do you do for work?” I asked, curious.
Kai had mentioned they worked together with Valentina, but I still wasn’t sure what they actually did. Especially since I couldn’t understand how that ultimately led my father to ‘request his services.’
“Security.”
A small huff left my lips. “I’ll need more than one-word answers.”
He looked back at me. “You didn’t stipulate rules, love.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “I thought it was implied.”
He let out another sigh. “Fine. I co-own a cyber-security company with Kai.”
“You like it?”
“That sounds like a follow-up question. I can answer it, but that’ll count toward your total number of questions.”
Even when it came to simple questions, he had rules.
I shook my head. “Fine. We can drop that one.” I paused for a moment, thinking of another question. “Okay,” I finally said. “This is an easy one. What’s your last name?”
His demeanor suddenly shifted at my question. “Brown,” he said softly, his face turning serious. His expression felt conflicted and I was about to change the subject when he continued, “But my real last name is Aguerd,” he confessed. There was now a softness to his features, as if the confession tugged at a buried memory.
I waited a beat and then asked, “Why Brown?”
My question seemed to snap him out of his thoughts and he gave me a quick look before answering. “I took my uncle’s last name when my parents died.”
