Chapter 35 Will You Marry Me
"Mr. Jennings, what brings you here?"
Quinley jumped up in surprise, and the suit jacket draped over her shoulders fell to the floor. It was Zachary's jacket.
Quinley hurriedly bent to pick it up. Zachary had a mild case of OCD—he didn't like his belongings to carry other people's scents. This applied to both people and objects.
"Mr. Jennings, thank you for the jacket."
She held the jacket out to Zachary, but he didn't take it. His dark eyes burned into her.
"Do you really need to be so formal with me?"
His thin lips barely moved as his tall frame cast a shadow that enveloped Quinley's petite figure.
He was cold and distant, maintaining his distance from everyone. Only Quinley had been granted special privileges—she could get infinitely close to him.
But now, they were infinitely far apart.
Quinley let out a light laugh, as if the past had blown away like clouds in the wind. "Mr. Jennings, your jacket is too expensive. I don't deserve it."
"Whether you deserve it or not is for me to decide!"
Zachary's anger flared, his voice rising several notches while his expression darkened.
He was used to them moving forward together. But now, every time he took a step forward, Quinley took a step back. He hated this feeling.
"Come with me."
Without explanation, he grabbed Quinley's wrist and dragged her to the stairwell. It was quiet there—completely deserted.
They stood facing each other, Quinley leaning against the railing as she looked at Zachary with detached eyes.
"Mr. Jennings, thank you for visiting my brother. It's getting late—you should head home."
Quinley's voice was perfectly calm, without a ripple of emotion. But this very calmness made the atmosphere even more oppressive.
"What would it take for you to go back to how things were?"
Zachary's gaze burned into Quinley. He'd never tried to keep anyone before—only Quinley could stir his emotions and rob him of his peace.
"Mr. Jennings, please don't do this."
Quinley lowered her eyes. She was exhausted, both physically and emotionally.
"Don't you want to marry me?"
Zachary asked suddenly.
Quinley was like a slippery fish—no matter how he tried, he couldn't hold onto her. But the more she slipped away, the more he wanted to keep her.
He had a fear of marriage. His childhood experiences had wounded Zachary deeply, leaving him with trust issues, cold and distant.
During their three years together, Quinley had been well-behaved and never demanded declarations of love. He'd enjoyed this safe relationship.
When she needed money, he was generous but never questioned her life. When he needed affection, she was considerate and understanding, creating a warm harbor for him.
They were mutually attracted and owed each other nothing. It was perfect.
He truly hadn't thought about defining their relationship because he'd always assumed Quinley would never leave.
If marriage could keep someone, he was willing to try.
Quinley was shocked, her heart pounding wildly. She looked at Zachary—tall and elegant, his handsome eyes like stars. His expression was resolute, not at all like he was joking.
"Are you proposing to me?"
Quinley's voice trembled uncontrollably. She'd dreamed of this moment, never imagining it might actually happen.
"So, would you marry me?"
Zachary asked again.
Time seemed to freeze in that moment.
Quinley didn't answer. Her emotions screamed yes, but reason pulled her back to reality.
Zachary was a businessman. Businessmen valued profit over sentiment—for them, marriage was an exchange of interests that needed to guarantee returns.
But marrying Quinley would be high-risk, low-reward for Zachary. It wasn't profitable.
"Mr. Jennings."
Quinley smiled. "You ask if I'm willing? Well, let me tell you—I'm not."
"I admit you're wonderful, perfect in every way, the kind of man I could never reach in this lifetime. But Mr. Jennings, marriage is a serious matter. I've never thought about marrying you, and I don't want to be your wife."
"You keep pursuing this simply because you can't accept that I was the one who broke up with you. If my actions hurt you, then I apologize. I'm sorry!"
Quinley said everything in one breath.
A cynical expression crossed her face as she crossed her arms, desperately trying to create distance between herself and Zachary.
These cruel words were like knives, stabbing viciously into Zachary's chest.
Quinley thought that by angering him, she could force Zachary to give up and end this tug-of-war. She was just a nobody—she couldn't afford to play games with Zachary.
But she underestimated him. He didn't get angry—his eyes only held her more tightly.
"They pressured you, so you left me? Quinley, where's your backbone?"
Zachary's muffled accusation suddenly tore through the pretense.
Quinley's body stiffened slightly. So he knew everything.
But what good did knowing do? Drag him down with her? Fight against Sylvia and the Davis family together? Leave him isolated and betrayed?
Would that make him happy? Was that what she wanted?
"No one pressured me." Quinley denied it.
To prevent Zachary from fighting back, she struck first, delivering another blow.
"What we had was just a casual fling, Mr. Jennings. Don't take it too seriously. You really shouldn't come to places like this anymore—if my boyfriend saw you, it would be awkward."
To drive him away, Quinley used every trick she had. She dared to call it a casual fling, dared to fabricate a boyfriend. Zachary wasn't good with words—he couldn't win against Quinley in a verbal battle.
But Zachary was a man of action. Sweet talk wasn't his style.
So he strode forward and trapped Quinley in his arms.
"I don't believe you."
His words rang with conviction.
Quinley tried to escape, but he held her tighter. One hand cradled the back of her head while the other gripped her chin as he leaned down and kissed her without mercy.
"Mmph—"
Caught off guard, Quinley tried to push him away, but Zachary's kiss was soul-stirring. His lips, his tongue—burning hot and scorching.
Quinley's rigid body gradually went limp. She knew his taste, his warmth.
Her mouth could lie, but her body was brutally honest.
Quinley struggled, fighting to keep her mind clear. "Mr. Jennings, let me go—"
Before she could finish, her words were swallowed by an even more passionate kiss.
Her consciousness blurred bit by bit, her defenses crumbling piece by piece.
On one side was the quicksand of emotion, on the other the scales of reason.
Quinley desperately wanted to be selfish just once, to listen to her heart's voice. She wanted to tell Zachary: Yes, I'm willing.
But she couldn't afford to gamble. One wrong step would lead to an abyss of no return.
Sylvia's cold face and Alicia's icy eyes alternated in her mind.
Choosing to be with Zachary wouldn't just harm him—it would harm her family too.
Love was precious, but it was a luxury not everyone could afford.
With this thought, Quinley raised her hand and slapped Zachary across the face.
The sharp crack echoed through the stairwell.
Zachary took the slap but didn't release her, continuing to kiss her deeply.
Suddenly, the sound of mocking applause rang out.