CHAPTER 23 CADEN
CADEN
I’ve avoided Elodie like the plague since the engagement party two days ago. It’s been easy enough, she’s had transactions to do, and I’ve had the orders to fulfil.
I’m still trying to process that night. Trying to determine if her dad will be a bigger issue than I thought, and how slow I’d make his death if he is.
My brain also tries to analyse what happened at the end of the evening, but I keep shoving those thoughts away.
It was nothing other than me making a point.
You do not touch my girl. No matter who you are.
She’s mine. Hands off her, or the hands come off. Simple.
It’s not that I care about her, because I don’t, it was a statement. You shall not touch what’s mine. You shall not disrespect my wife. Or soon-to-be wife.
Urgh.
I grab my scalpel and start cutting into the body in front of me, shoving the images away. How will I ever get her to comply? Once I catch her during The Hunt, how much grief will she give me? How much time will I have to spend bending her into an acceptable shape?
Although, the physical shape of her the other night is something that’s stained my memory.
Seared itself in my consciousness and I cannot scrape it out.
She looked… so different. For a split second, when she had walked into the room in that dress, it was like I’d seen into an impossible future.
Throughout the night there was an effortless elegance to her.
The way she wore that dress, like she’d lived in them all her life.
The way she moved, fluid and weightless like a gazelle.
She played the part flawlessly. Her manners and decorum were on point whenever she was expected to speak, the way she interacted with my father was shockingly appropriate.
Elodie Valor may come from disgrace, and fuck knows what she’s experienced coming from a drug lord but…
It’s like she was born for this sort of role.
I hadn’t stopped sweating the entire night.
Especially when she darted off like she’d just laid eyes on the devil.
Fiz told me nothing went down in the ladies’ restroom.
He’d walked in and she was washing her hands, told me she was feeling overwhelmed with everything.
I don’t believe it. Something had spooked her, and it’s doing my head in that I don’t know.
How am I supposed to protect her if there’s something going on she won’t tell me about?
Sighing, I remove a kidney from the man’s corpse. I just wish she’d stop resisting so much. Sure, her defiance has eased since we made the deal, but she still glares at me like she’d love to shove the nearest object through my Adam’s apple.
And the whole ring palaver. How the hell am I supposed to give her a ring when I won’t gift her any of her own clothes?
What does Alfie expect me to do, just drop everything, get her a wardrobe and a brand-new engagement ring, climb on the roof and yell out to the world that Elodie Valor is going to be my wife?
Not likely.
I’ll win the bet, secure her place here and then think about the next steps. Perhaps wardrobe first, then I’ll get her a damn ring.
Would she even want to wear it? She wore the choker because I told her to, which was surprising. She must have thought I’m a possessive control freak, and she wouldn’t be wrong, but what about a ring that screams she’s mine?
I didn’t need to cover her love bite, nor the scratches on her arm that she’d etched into herself during the drive.
No one would have dared comment. But displaying anything that would have drawn attention to her made my skin itch.
I just wanted to fold her up and keep her in my pocket the whole evening.
I didn’t want anyone looking at her. The murderous thoughts I endured throughout the party had me more jittery than Alfie on a bad day.
And I can’t put my finger on why. Who’d have thought that the only thing people would be bothered about was something that wasn’t there. A fucking ring.
A dull knock sounds on the door, snapping me out of my spiralling thoughts.
Frowning, I usher Elodie in. She hasn’t been down here since I locked her in with a shock collar.
I hide my grimace at the memory. Her blonde hair hangs loosely around her chest, one of my T-shirts reaches almost halfway down her thighs, which are clad in a pair of my smaller jogging bottoms, but they still make her look even smaller than she already is.
“What do you want?” I ask, going back into the torso with my scalpel.
Elodie gingerly steps in. “I just wanted to…”
I peer up at her and notice the colour’s drained from her face as she stares down at the dead naked man laid out on the table before me.
Smirking, I say, “What’s the matter, never seen a man cut out another man’s organs before?”
She gulps dramatically. “No, actually, I haven’t.”
“Well, get used to it,” I say, turning my attention back to the torso. “You’ll be seeing a lot more while you’re living here if you continue to snoop around this house.”
This snaps her out of her ill-looking haze. “I’m bored. There’s nothing to do.”
“Go train with Alfie.”
“Already have. He’s gone for a job and Fiz… He keeps touching my ass.”
A spike of irritation zings up my spine. “So, you thought you’d come stick your nose around here. I see.”
“I can go.” She goes to walk out the door.
“No, stay,” I call, not exactly knowing why. “I mean… You can stay.”
Elodie steps forward again, hugging her arm. She stays quiet for a moment, then says, “You’ve got to have a strong stomach for that stuff.”
Great, small talk. My favourite.
I hold back the sigh. “I guess. It’s never bothered me. It’s my job.”
She steps farther into the room. I point to a metal table in the corner. She walks over and perches on top of it. Why has the room gotten so hot?
“Did you picture cutting up dead bodies when you were a kid?”
“I pictured doing whatever my dad wanted me to do,” I mutter.
“You idolise him.” I hear the unspoken question behind the statement.
I give her a quick glance as I lean closer over the body. “He’s given me a good life. He’s a good father. I know you don’t know anything about that.”
She snorts. “No, I wouldn’t.”
My eyes flutter closed. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“No,” she says, “you’re right. I have no clue what having a good parent feels like. Mum killed herself before I was old enough to really remember her. Dad’s beaten me ever since. The only one I had was Lewis. And I lost him.”
My gut twists almost painfully. I knew about all of that, I’ve read all the notes on her entire life I’d asked Milo to take for me during his research on her. I know pretty much everything about her, as I told her I would. But it’s the first time she’s mentioned her mum, or her brother, to me.
“Some of us get dealt shitter cards than others,” is all I can think to say, if only to avoid opening the can of worms about my own losses. I’m certainly not about to volunteer my own grief so she can feel connected to me.
“No kidding…” She pauses. “Were you and Max close?”
Now my stomach starts to really hurt. I ignore her.
“Sorry,” she mumbles, “I just realised the other night that we haven’t spoken about it. We don’t talk about anything.”
I scoff, removing the other kidney and straightening up. I place the organs into their appointed containers. “And whose fault is that, Elodie? You fight with me every chance you get. Besides, why are we getting to know each other if you’re confident about winning this bet?”
I peer at her from across the room and see her familiar scowl has returned. “You know what?” She hops off the table. “You’re right. Forget it. And fuck you.”
I bite down on my growing smirk. “I know I’m right.”
This halts her just a few steps before the door. She whirls around to face me, jutting her hip out and folding her arms. “You’re right about me winning the bet, nothing else.”
“Yeah. Sure. Okay.” I switch my attention back to the torso.
“You’re not!” she whines. “Forgive me for trying to make a fucking effort. That’s what you wanted, wasn’t it? And you just throw it back in my face.”
I shrug one shoulder, slightly jarred by her querulous tone. “Whatever you say, Elodie.”
“You’re such a stuck-up prick!”
“And you’re an entitled little brat.”
She gasps in outrage. “Entitled? Are you kidding me? You won’t even give me my own fucking clothes.”
I chuck the scalpel onto the table and fling off my bloody gauntlet gloves and apron. “Because you’re not getting jack shit from me while you act like a petulant child. Not even my own dog gave me this much grief as a puppy.”
“And that’s another thing,” she spits. “Why are you so uptight about your damn dog? Alfie told me not to feed him, and he stares at me like he’s going to rip my arm off.
The other two are fine with me, but it’s like you’ve ordered him to chew on my bones if I get too close.
It would help me feel a little safer in this stupid house if you and your dog didn’t look at me like I was dinner. ”
I press my lips together, trying not to smirk. Why do her theatrics amuse me so much? Anyone else makes my hands twitch at the urge to choke them until they shut up. But with Elodie, I don’t know, it’s entertaining. In an annoying way.
I go over to the sink and wash my hands. “It’s not the actual feeding I care about. It’s what happens after. If you feed him, he’ll be all over you. Sergeant is a fucking guard dog.” I flap my hands, then grab some paper towels. “Fucks with his image.”
Elodie barks a laugh. “That’s what you care about?” Still giggling, she adds, “He’s a dog, Caden, I don’t think he cares about his image.”