Chapter 13
chapter thirteen
any excuse to break out the murder gloves (kidding) (kind of)
“Iwon’t ask you again. What the fuck were you doing in there?”
The guy I had pinned up against an alley wall was relatively calm for someone who’d just been jumped, but the longer my hand was around his throat, the bigger the tears in his eyes became.
“I told you,” he croaked, sneaking a breath as I loosened my grip slightly. “My mate at work said I had to try this place, so I did.” He stole another breath, his chest heaving as his body wriggled for any kind of leverage. “He said it was open late on Tuesdays. I swear.”
That’s what I thought too when he walked into the bakery, ten minutes after it had closed. And when I watched Cora talk to him, with a smile on her face and a laugh here and there, I deemed him harmless.
That was until he left, and suspicion pricked at my nerve endings. He skulked into the alley where we were now, his phone in his hand, tucked way too close to his face, like he was determined to hide whatever he was doing.
That was when I’d jumped him.
And now here we were.
His phone was nestled in my other hand, and as I cut off his oxygen supply, I scrolled through it.
There were hundreds of unread messages, but the one I was most interested in was the text thread he’d had open when I grabbed him.
I scrolled, looking endlessly for messages containing Cora’s name.
Anything to do with her, or any secret code that could have meant her.
But the more I scrolled, the more I felt like I’d jumped the gun. The texts were raunchy—too raunchy for my liking, if truth be told. And very clearly between him and a woman he shouldn’t be seeing. I looked back at the contact name, and when I read ‘Dominos,’ I had to hold back my laugh.
I turned to look at him, my grip loosening. “Got it bad for the stuffed crust or something?”
Cockiness coated his features. “She’s a mate from work.
That’s all.” He struggled against me, and now that I wasn’t death-gripping him, his accent came through.
Awfully similar to Cora’s. “If you were hired by my wife, then I’m sure there’s some arrangement we can come to.
How much did she pay ya, huh? Whatever it was, I’ll double it. ”
The pressure that had built in my chest lessened once I deemed him a waste of space.
To Cora, that was. If there were a way to find out who his wife was, I’d warn her to stay clear of this asshole.
“What’s your name?” I asked, my fingers tightening a little.
“Alfie Thompson.”
I slipped a wallet out of his pocket, and a quick check of his ID confirmed his name. I’d get on warning that poor lady who’d agreed to marry him when I had a spare minute.
I looked back at him, my hand tossing his body to the ground. The gravel below him scraped as he found his bearing and sat up. I rolled up my sleeves as I stood over him. “Tell Dominos I said hi.”
I didn't bother looking back at him before sulking back around onto the street where my car had been parked ever since dropping Cora and Rory off at their shift. And situations like that were exactly why I’d stayed put.
New York was full of lowlifes and cretins who had nothing but bad intentions, and I’d be another one if I’d left Cora unsupervised.
I sank back into the icy air-con, taking a sip of tea in my thermos.
It was the kind that Cora liked, and after I got curious as to why it was such a big part of my morning routine and tried it, I’d come to like it.
The warm liquid glided down my throat as I pulled out my phone, checking in on emails from Meg, texts from Oscar, and clearing the alerts from the home security system I’d set up in the townhouse.
Mine. Not Cora’s.
That little precaution would have both of my balls in casts.
I was replying to a client query when I got a notification from the security software app I’d had installed on Cora’s phone. And when I read it, my whole body froze.
It was the same number that had texted her the night of the event.
Before I could think, I was running out of the car and making a beeline for the bakery.
I ran past the foot traffic, too fast to mutter apologies.
Whoever it was could be nearby. They could be there right now.
That thought made my feet run faster until I wound up at the bakery door, landing in the doorway the same time Cora opened it up.
I panted as I locked my eyes with hers. “I know.”
She was heaving, her eyes wild and dark and panicked.
One hand gripped her phone like it might bite, her other curled around the edge of the door, holding on, like she’d collapse if she let go.
That flicker of fear was everywhere—in the apples of her cheeks, swirling in her eyes, in the rapid rise and fall of her chest. It was more than shock; it was pure terror.
The kind that made your whole body buzz.
“I saw it,” I breathed. “The message.”
Her jaw tightened, eyes jumping between mine. “What do I do?”
She backed up a little as I stepped inside, not taking my eyes off her until I clocked Rory, standing a few paces behind her, arms folded, just as breathless as Cora. She gave me a nod, but it wasn’t neutral. It was encouraging. The way you’d nod at an archer, knowing full well his aim was true.
“You didn’t reply, right?” I asked, my eyes darting back to Cora.
Quick as anything, she shook her head. “Didn’t need to. It got what it wanted.”
I clenched my jaw. “What did they want?”
She looked at me like it should’ve been obvious. “To remind me I’m not safe.”
Rory stepped around us. “I’ll make tea,” she mumbled, as she walked toward the back of the lavender room. “Yell if you need me.”
And then it was just me and Cora.
The silence stretched, thick and humming, except for the dense breaths pouring out of me. In hindsight, I probably looked insane, storming in like a damn wolf off its leash. But she should know by now that I’d be there at the first sign of trouble.
I was simply keeping my word. Hopefully earning her trust.
I waited for her to settle before saying anything, letting that safety net wrap around her and her breath become stable again.
We might not be close, but I knew her well enough to know that pushing her to talk right now wasn’t the way to get through to her. She’d talk when she was ready.
As her feet took her to the counter, launching her up until her legs were dangling, her arms holding her torso, I pulled out one of the rattan chairs and sat backswards on it facing her.
It was just a comfortable silence and her steady breaths filling the space between us for a while. Then, finally, she exhaled.
“You know what I hate about all this?”
“No,” I said, resting my folded arms on the back of the chair, leaning a little closer. “But tell me.”
She looked up at me, her undereyes a faint mix of purple and her ivory skin. There was no smirk, no wall of sarcasm. Just Cora. Raw and real and tired of pretending she wasn’t scared. “I hate that I feel safer with you around.”
I huffed, but my face remained still. "Because you hate me, I know that."
Avoiding my eyes, she shook her head, her bottom lip stuck between her teeth. “Because it means I’m not actually safe. Not on my own. Not around my friends. Not without… you.”
Her voice shook, just slightly. She covered it fast, but I caught it. And it hit me right in the centre of my chest like a punch.
"You hate what I mean?" I asked, leaning back.
One of her shoulders lifted, as her hands slipped to her lap. "A little, yeah."
“Why?" I stood up from the chair and paced, not taking my eyes off her as she shrugged. Which was how I saw her keep what she wanted to say locked away. So I stepped toward her, "Do you think that makes you weak? Needing someone to watch over you?”
Her shoulders lifted again, her eyes fixed on her dangling legs. “I think it makes me someone who built her entire life trying to prove that she only needed herself to survive, when in actual fact, she had no chance.”
That landed harder than I expected, like an bullet straight to the heart.
Because I get it. God, did I get it.
“You’re not weak,” I reminded her, because I needed her to know that. “Being smart enough to know when you’re in danger isn’t a weakness. It’s survival.”
She folded her arms, like she was trying to close in on herself.
“But I don’t want to survive anymore. I’m sick of just surviving.
" For the first time in a while, she looked right at me, and it was looking at amber glass caught in the sunlight.
"I want to live. I want to go to work and eat sugar and argue with Daisy about her playlists and not jump every time a message pops up on my phone.”
“You will,” I promised. “You will again.”
A helpless laugh stuttered out of her, as her hands lifted and collapsed back into her lap. “And until then?”
As I wandered closer towards her, the corner of my mouth tugged up, casual, like I hadn’t been waiting for that question. “You have me.”
Her brows pulled in, defiant, but I could tell she didn’t want to be. “And why is that?" Her head jutted forward. "Because… what? You love this job? You can't say no? You care about me?”
Because I’ve watched this play before, and I hated the ending.
I nodded once, keeping the truth behind my back as I handed her something prettier. “I care about every Romano client. Including you.” My voice stayed even, professional, though my chest betrayed me. “I care about your safety, your well-being, your peace of mind… everything, Cora.”
Her stare held steady, unflinching as I reached her, close enough to count the glints in her eyes. “I don’t think Jamie cared about all that.”
His name scraped against my ribs, but I let it pass, my focus chained to her.
“Knowing what I know now… I think you’re right.
” My voice steadied, and as her eyes dropped from mine, I ducked my head, catching that stare again.
“But that’s changed. You need to know that.
I’ll be here for anything you need, at least until you’re ready to conquer the world on your own again. ”
A flicker of a smile touched her mouth. “On my own.”
But until then, she had me. Whether she wanted me or not.
And maybe, if the way she wasn't tearing her gaze away from me right now said anything, if the way her eyes weren’t guarded by that veil she always kept there, she was starting to want me.
Her body shifted, the edge of her sleeve brushing against my wrist. Neither of us pulled away.
But something softened in her face then—not fear, not pity.
Something else. Something that made it hard to breathe.
For the second time since being around her, she wasn’t looking at me as a shield, or a wall, or a weapon.
She was looking at me like I was a person. Just me.
She eyed me, deadpan. “I’m sorry, is my being stalked funny to you?”
I blinked. I hadn’t even realised I was smiling.
My head dropped slightly as I shook it. “Of course not.”
“Then what’s with the look?” she pressed, one brow raised. “If you’re not scowling, how is the world supposed to keep turning?”
She could pretend to hate me all she wanted, but I knew better. It was in the way she was looking at me now. In the flicker of something softer behind her sarcasm. In the way her breath caught for just a second too long.
She didn’t hate me.
She was trusting me.
And maybe I was screwed, because that just made my entire damn day.
I cleared my throat as my smile stayed put, stepping aside with the most professional gesture I could muster. “Come on, get Rory and let’s get out of here.”
She hesitated, lips twitching as she leaned forward. “Are you… blushing?”
“No,” I lied.
“You are.”
“Am not.”
“Oh, you so are!”
“I just have a naturally intense face.”
Now she was definitely smiling, and it took everything in me not to grin back like an idiot.
“Let’s go, Holland,” I muttered. “You’ve got class at nine and I’m tired.”
She hopped off the counter and walked past, and I swear I heard her whisper, “Blushing,” like it was her new favourite word.