CHAPTER 23 CADEN #2
“Well, I do,” I snap. I chuck the paper towels in the bin and run a hand through my hair.
It’s so damn hot in here. “You show up to a warehouse full of gang members with guns and face tats to make a deal with or to fuck someone up, you want your Cane Corso to roll over and show his belly to them? No, this shit is all about image. Another thing you know nothing about and have no respect for.”
Her blue eyes darken as they narrow in on me. “No respect for image and status? Gosh, how superficial and shallow of me.”
I waltz towards her slowly, watching her tight face hold strong but catching the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes as I approach.
That smart mouth of hers presses into a thin line.
There’re so many instruments in this room with us that I could use on that delicate skin of hers.
So many ways I can cripple her with pain.
Press a blade into the barrier of her flesh, pierce it, break it.
Watch the life of her bleed through the gap.
Make my own scars on her. Watch as it trickles along her naked body, then catch the rivulets with my tongue, tasting the very essence of Elodie’s life. How sweet she’d taste.
Fuck.
I clear my throat. “Get out. We’re done here.”
“Done? No retort, no punishment?” She keeps her arms folded and her stance steadfast as I close the gap between us.
“If you want a punishment, I can gladly give it you.”
The distance between us has vanished. We’re standing just a hair’s breadth away from colliding our bodies. I leer over her and she has to tilt her head to keep her eyes fixed on mine.
“Like what?” The lightness in her tone, the curiosity lacing it, tightens my throat, boils my blood.
Her hair looks so soft. It would caress the skin on my hand if I wrapped it around and pulled. Expose that delectable neck of hers and make my own mark there. Bigger and meaner than Fiz’s hickey, which is thankfully turning yellow and fading now.
I realise I haven’t given her an answer. I realise there’s a lot I want to do to her. I lift a hand and tuck a tendril of hair behind her ear. “You tell me, Elodie, there seems to be something already on your mind.”
The slim column of her throat bobs as she swallows. Her lips part.
I wait impatiently to hear her say something.
“Tell me,” I urge, my voice dropped to a murmur.
Elodie glares up at me. “The other night, at the engagement party.”
“Yes?” She smells so fucking good.
“Was it…” Her hard gaze dissolves, turning into something more wary, more curious.
“What, Elodie?” I don’t know why my voice has softened. I don’t know why my hands are shaking.
“Was it all an act? For your dad? For everyone else?”
My jaw tightens as I swallow hard. I study her, not understanding the expression on her face. Hope? Scepticism?
“What are you talking about?” my voice has gone hoarse now. It’s getting harder to breathe the longer I stand so close to her. I need to back away, to suck in air that’s not infected with her scent that’s going straight to my veins and nestling in there like some weird, warm fire.
She breaks eye contact, looking down and leaving me with a strange hollowness. “Never mind.”
She spins around and practically runs out the door. I stand there dumbfounded for a moment, heaving in a clear breath. I look down at my hands. I never tremble. I never shake. What the hell just happened?
My thoughts are cut short when my phone starts ringing in my pocket.
“Dad?” I answer, annoyingly breathless.
“Why have I got Brandon showing up at my office with one goddamn hand?”
A smirk spreads my lips as I leave the basement, beginning my long ascent up the staircase. “His fingers looked a bit sticky.”
“Caden,” Dad’s voice brooks no room for jokes. “Why the fuck did you cut off his hand?”
It’s not unusual for me to commit such acts, but it’s less common for me to execute them on employees.
I sigh, not wanting to lie, but also not wanting to admit the real reason. “He tried to make a fool of me. I simply reminded him who the fuck he works for.”
Dad huffs down the phone. “Caden, he’s a driver, how’s he gonna drive with one fucking hand now?”
“He can go on stock duty. Don’t need two hands to count inventory.”
“Caden,” Dad says, then a sigh blows through the speaker. “Is this about Elodie? Because if it is, then –”
I cut him off. “I will not have any man, employee or not, think he can touch my woman. These are the principles you raised me with. I watched you shoot a man between the eyes for just looking at Mum before.” The memory flashes in front of me. Mum.
I swallow down the lump that always fucking grows in my throat whenever I think of her.
Dad stutters, knowing that I have a point, but then finds the words. “Caden, she’s not even your wife yet. And if you carry on slicing off my employees’ extremities because of her, she won’t become your wife.”
I scowl. “Tell your employees to keep their hands to themselves and I won’t have to. I’m simply following the path you laid out for me.”
A pause. “Fine. I understand, just – just think about what you’re doing, okay?”
Believe me, I want to say, it’s all I’ve been doing. I’m still trying to process it myself. “Yes, sir.”
“I’ve got to go. I have a meeting. Talk soon.”
“Bye.”
I put the phone back in my pocket. I can’t understand why Dad would be upset, what I said was true.
Watching him protect my mother all those brief years she was with us, how would he expect me not to be the same?
Whether my situation is entirely different and I can’t actually stand my own fiancé is irrelevant. We protect our women. That’s it.