MY FINGERS SKATE over her beating heart and down to her trim abdomen where I know something profound is taking place. Something she’s not ready for. Something I did to her and can’t undo. As she sleeps soundly on her back, I softly trace the smooth white skin on her stomach. My chest contracts, tightens, burns, and it’s a feeling I’m not interested in analysing. She is in my bed again and after what I did last night, fuck.
She shouldn’t be.
And yet, this is her fate now.
In our bed.
Cassidy.
She crawls into my brain and makes me contemplate a different life. I focus on her lovely little tits, sloped to small peaks and moving with a gentle sway as they rise and fall. She is out cold. She must be exhausted. For a few moments, I simply watch her breathing. Moving my gaze to her face, I notice her eyes flicker slightly. Lips pout and, fuck me.
She’s beautiful.
Soft. And inside, in her mind, so fucking silly I want to wrap her in cotton wool and never let the world taint her. Not like I have –
With that thought, I slide out of bed and pull a pair of jeans on, making sure to tuck my cock in properly before I pull the zipper up. It’s not easy having a big cock sometimes. . . I chuckle coldly at that. Such a fucking burden.
I leave the room, shirtless and with my jeans hanging at my hips.
As soon as I notice Carter, standing at the bottom of the staircase, I’m instantly reminded that he let her sneak into bed with me last night without any warning.
Halting at the bottom step, I fold my arms across my chest and scowl at him. He’s a tall, fucking ugly piece of work, but I like him. For all the right reasons and a few wrong ones. ‘Didn’t think to warn me she was coming up? I could have shot her.’
He isn’t scared of me. That’s always been refreshing, but he is professional. A face like a smashed crab – workplace injuries – and biceps like my head, he’s a fucking monster. Under that, though, is a finely tuned moral compass. I believe he ignores the arrow on occasion, but it’s there anyway, guiding him.
‘Bronson knew, boss. I told him,’ he states adamantly.
And that pisses me off. ‘And why did you do that?’
‘Sorry, boss.’ He hesitates. ‘You wouldn’t have shot her.’
‘Maybe not.’ When I note the slightest grin on his face, I pause. This fucker knows. ‘You know.’ It isn’t a question and yet, it still demands an answer.
He nods once. ‘Yes. I overheard-‘
‘I don’t care. Shit changes now.’ I step to his level. ‘Understand? I want you to get your guys, go to Cassidy’s house, and pack up her shit. She’s moving in here. I need Life360 installed on her phone. Also, I need a phone. So sort that out for me. And a bigger room, I think. And a fucking list of obstetricians and-‘ Faltering, I rub my face before cracking my jaw with my palm to relieve the pressure. I shake my head, feeling unprepared, and I fucking hate that.
Carter studies me. ‘Shouldn’t Miss Slater come with us, advise us what she wants to take?’
I walk into the kitchen, expecting Carter to follow. ‘Take it all.’
‘Does she know what we are doing?’
Stilling at the fridge, I slowly step to face him again. He’s on the other side of the island bench, all professional in stance and appearance, but his tongue is a bit too inquisitive for my liking. ‘You’re asking a lot of fucking questions, Carter. What’s that all about?’
He straightens further. ‘Nothing. Just. . .’
‘Oh fuck, please don’t hold back now, you ugly bastard. Spill.’
‘You should ask her to move in, Max,’ he says, sounding more like my father than my employee and I both dislike and like that familiarity. ‘Not tell her.’
Carter has been working for us for over fifteen years. He is a few years younger than Butch and has proven himself to be loyal beyond his contract. Beyond what we could have imagined. I turn my back to him and open the fridge door, pulling out an orange juice. ‘I don’t need to ask.’
I hear him shuffle his feet with apprehension. ‘In this case, you should anyway.’
When I spin back, I’m met with a glint of nervousness. ‘I should, should I? Are you in love, Carter?’
His teeth flash as he laughs. ‘Good thing I’m ugly.’
‘Yeah.’ I grin at him because. . . who can’t she charm? ‘Good thi-‘
Suddenly, I hear the sound of voices – Butch’s and someone else’s. Usually, I don’t care to involve myself in Butch’s business, but in this case, the other voice has piqued my interest. Putting my glass down on the island bench, I stride past Carter and head down the hallway towards Butch’s office.
‘I thought you would protect my daughter. After everything I have done for you-‘
With that, I push open the doors to the office, making my presence known. Ben Slater and Butch both look over at me, neither overly taken back by my attendance. Which in itself seems far too forced. Butch shifts his weight slightly – a gesture that on any other man would seem like unease. He taught us boys from a young age to be the impartial man in the room. To keep others guessing as to our intentions. As to our interests. Never show anyone what affects us. At times, I am good at this. When it comes to Cassidy though, less so.
Whereas I’m half-dressed, both men are in tailored dark suits. That doesn’t faze me at all. I didn’t even know Butch was here. And Ben isn’t powerful in a suit. He isn’t powerful at all.
‘You discuss Cassidy with me. Not Butch,’ I state, growing further irritated that Cassidy’s father came over here but clearly didn’t respect me enough to address his issues with me. I cross my arms over my chest and wait for him to do just that – discuss Cassidy.
Butch leans on his desk casually. ‘Ben is sharing his concern for Cassidy’s wellbeing.’
I stiffen, but despite my annoyance, I try to keep my voice level. ‘Cassidy’s wellbeing is my business.’
Ben Slater is a lean man with an aura of wholesomeness that I couldn’t feign even if I wanted to. I highly doubt Ben Slater finger fucks his wife at dinner, surrounded by some of the richest, most autocratic pricks in the District. He’d be an in-the-bedroom-missionary-style man, for sure. Everything about Ben is hopeful and gentle and boring. From his unguarded generous hazel eyes to his open stance and neat appearance. He is anything but the impartial man in this room.
He smiles sadly at me. ‘How did she hurt her arm?’
Her arm. That fucking slice. My hands twitch, but I try to keep my face straight. ‘She was attacked. Nothing like that will ever happen again. I have taken care of it.’
I narrow my eyes at them as they share a glance, the non-verbal exchange rather odd. Filled with meaning. Secrets. I don’t like it. Why Butch is even entertaining this conversation is beyond me. Not that I know all of his dealings. Or want to. But still-
‘She’s my daughter, Max. I love her very much. I just want her to be safe,’ he states, openly expressing his affections like the sentimental man he is known to be. Of course he loves his daughter. She’s his daughter.
His daughter.
That dull ache moves through my chest again at the thought of having a daughter. At having a son. At either of them getting hurt. He has every right to be worried. This is his business, goddamn-it. Fuck. I’d be hunting down the bastard who cut my little girl. I’d be burning houses to the ground indiscriminately.
I unfold my arms. ‘Nothing is more important to me than keeping her safe.’
‘Can you?’ When Ben takes a step towards me, I grit my teeth, then have the urge to put my hand on his shoulder and reassure him. But I don’t. ‘Keep her safe for me.’
I nod once. ‘I can.’
For you.
For me.
