Wrong (A Bad Boy Romance)(105)

He makes a low noise, sort of an acknowledging grunt. I can’t tell from the sound of it if he’s agreeing with me or not. His hand comes up and tangles in my hair, then his fingers slip down my bare back. I wonder what he’s thinking. He’s not looking at me; his attention is somewhere else.

“He’s going to kill you,” I go on. The prospect makes my throat thicken. “He’s already shown you what happens when you cross him. And now you’ve crossed him again.”

His head moves now, rolling toward me so he’s looking me in the face. I think maybe he’s listening now. I’d give every penny I own to know what’s going on inside that head of his right now.

“Do you get what I’m telling you, Cain? He’s going to kill you. This was just a warning.”

“Yeah. I get that.” His voice is low, almost a monotone, like he doesn’t care one way or another. “So what the fuck am I supposed to do about it?”

“Marry me.”

His eyes narrow. I know he’s already told me pretty much what he thinks of this plan, but things are worse now. Pop knows Cain and I are sleeping together, and he’s laid down the law. “No,” Cain says. “It’s a stupid idea.”

I lever myself up over him, one hand in the middle of his chest, looking him right in the face, willing him to understand. “It’s not stupid. He won’t kill you if you’re married to me. If we make it legal, there’ll be nothing he can do. He can’t force me to marry Carmine then, and if you’re my husband… Well, it’ll give you some protection.”

It’s his turn to lever himself up, pushing to a half-sitting position, looking at me like I’ve completely lost my mind.

“Jess, it’s nuts. And I’m not going to do it.”

“Why is it nuts? I marry you, I get out from under Pop’s thumb. I don’t have to worry about Carmine anymore. You marry me, and you’re his son-in-law. You’re family. You get that? Family.”

“Honest to God, Jess, it doesn’t seem to me like your dad treats his family much better than he treats anybody else.”

He has a point, but I shake my head. “No. You’re a man. It’s different. And he’s old-school Catholic. Once we’re married, that’s it. No divorce. No nothing.”

“Annulment?”

“Yeah, but then he’d have to prove we never consummated the marriage, and good luck with that.”

“He could force you to do it. Force you to lie.”

I don’t want to hear any of these objections. They all make sense, but so does my plan. I know once I’ve got another man who’s “responsible” for me, Pop will loosen the reins, hand them over to Cain. I won’t be under his control anymore, and Cain will be in a completely different relationship with the Spada family in general. I can tell, though, that I’m not getting through to Cain.

“He won’t. You have to trust me on this, Cain.”

He shakes his head again, sharper this time, and sits all the way up, swinging his legs off the side of the bed. “No. I’m not going to tie myself down just to get out of this mess with your dad.”

“He’s going to kill you.”

“Yeah, let him try. I’m not going to marry some hot piece of ass because I’m scared of him.”

I swallow, my heart sinking. “I thought I was more than that to you.”

He gives me another look, this one evaluating. “Jess. This was never anything but a fling. Your way to throw a big, fat middle finger at your father. Don’t try to tell me it was ever anything else.”

The sad part is, he’s right. That’s exactly how I saw it at the beginning. But I’m not quite seeing it the same way now. Something about Cain has crawled under my skin, and I don’t want to let him go.

“It’s the best way out.” I can’t put as much force into my voice anymore, knowing he’s not taking me seriously. “For both of us.”

“It’s no way out.” His eyes smolder as he gets up and heads back toward the bathroom as if I don’t even exist.

“Fine, then!” I throw the words after him as hard and sharp as I can. “You’re just going to take it? You’re just going to roll over and be his little lapdog until he decides to kick you to death? Is that what you want? God, Cain. I thought you were better than that. I thought you were more of a man than that.”

He looks at me, and his eyes are distant. Cold.

“I think you ought to go home.”

Well. That’s it, then. At least now I know what he thinks of me.

With as much dignity as I can muster, I gather my clothes and head for home.