“Ten minutes,” he repeats then turns around and leaves the room.
I look at the doorway, shake my head, get off the couch, and head to my room. I doubt I can get ready so quickly, but I sure as hell am going to try. Kai has never scared me before, not even a little bit. Even when I’d watched him kill someone, he had never appeared as angry as he did a few moments ago.
Kai
I leave the living room and prowl straight to my office, slamming the door behind me. I try to breathe, but it doesn’t cut through the madness that has been building and expanding since our fight, and then seeing her in the kitchen in the middle of the night, with her arms wrapped around another man while he kissed her, even if it was not an intimate kiss, was too much for me to handle.
Every day has been an internal battle of self-control, and the constant weight in my gut and fucking irritant under my skin has not been helping. When I married Myla, I had no idea this was going to happen to me. I didn’t understand what I was feeling when I looked into her eyes when we said our vows to one another. I might not have expected these feelings when I married her, but I have them now, so there is no fucking way I’m going to sit on the sidelines and let someone—who I have known since I was a kid—come in and steal away the woman who belongs to me, a woman I know, if I admitted it to myself, I am falling in love with.
A woman who I know was feeling the same thing I am right now before I left.
I take another breath, and then another. Pika is lucky he is still alive. After what I had seen, I wanted to fucking slaughter him, but I knew that, if I walked into the kitchen and did that, it would only make her believe she was right about me.
It wasn’t like me to sit and wait, but I had to do it. But that didn’t mean I had to let Pika stick around. I sent him away two days ago. He was back on the mainland, helping my other men keep track of Thad and Paulie Jr. When I confronted him about his relationship with Myla, he told me that he had feelings for her. I decked him and he didn’t back down. He even told me that I was a moron for having left her without telling her anything. Then he told me that it didn’t matter how he was feeling about her because she couldn’t see past me, and he didn’t suspect she ever would.
His words gave me a margin of hope of winning Myla back, but I’m not a stupid man. I know that it is going to take work. I know I’m going to have to take it slow. But slow with her feels impossible.
Fuck. The moment I brought her into my home, I had her in my bed, even if I wasn’t sleeping in there with her. I just knew that I wanted her in my space, wanted to know she was in a bed I would share with her eventually. Sleeping with her those few nights her parents were in town also changed things. I have slept with my share of women, but I never felt a connection to any of them. Even just holding Myla eased something within me, brought peace I thought was long gone to my soul.
She was my peace in a world I knew was fucked up beyond most people’s understanding.
I look at the door and let out one last breath. I probably just scared the shit out of her. She is probably running for the hills, but Pika’s name leaving her mouth, the soft tone in her voice from worry over him, had set me off. Even if I know she doesn’t see him as anything more than a friend, I know he doesn’t feel the same.
I also know that Pika is a player. He has a girl in every town he visits, and often two if he is in the mood for that kind of play. Women throw themselves at him, and having Myla around him right now is not a risk I am willing to take.
I move to the door, opening it then moving down the hall to the room Myla has been staying in before knocking once.
“Yes?” her quiet voice asks through the door.
“Can I come in?”
She doesn’t reply for a moment, but when she does, it’s soft and unsure. I push the door open and see that she’s sitting on the side of the bed with a pair of sandals in her hand.
“I’m just about ready,” she mutters, ducking her head to look at her feet as she slips the sandals on one at a time.
“I wanted to tell you that you can have more time if you need it.”
“I’m ready now. I hurried,” she whispers, and my gut clenches when I hear the fear in her voice.
I live off power.
I have my whole life.
In my business, fear is power.
You can control most people by using fear.
With Myla, I do not want that. I do not want to think she is with me out of fear of repercussion.
“Take your time,” I tell her.
Her head lifts, her gaze meets mine, and she looks confused. “I thought you said we were going somewhere.”
“We are, but it can wait. Take your time.”