Wrong (A Bad Boy Romance)(134)

When I show up at his house, he’s much more composed than he was outside the ring yesterday. He meets me at the door—another surprise, since he usually has one of his underlings handle door duty.

“Cain,” he says by way of greeting and shakes my hand firmly, looking right into my face. That’s new, too. It’s like he thinks I’m an actual human being all of a sudden instead of just a hired pair of fists. “Good to see you.”

I nod, not sure how to respond.

“Feeling okay after yesterday’s fight?”

I notice he doesn’t mention the fight after the fight. I don’t blame him. I don’t really want to revisit that scene either. “A little stiff here and there,” I concede. “Nothing major.”

“Good.”

He leads me back to his office. His goons are all there—minus Romano, of course. I get the feeling he has something to say to me. I don’t know what it is. I guess I’ll find out soon enough.

I smooth my tie back—I’m wearing my best suit, because I know that’s what Spada expects—and take a seat at the table. The atmosphere in the room is relatively relaxed, for which I’m grateful. The tension that usually accompanies these get-togethers is normally enough to make a person choke on his own heartburn. Spada gives me a nod, and the other people in the room follow suit. If Spada had flung a knife at me, the rest of them undoubtedly would have done the same.

No knives today though. Today is all about more pleasant things, it appears. Spada has taken a wad of cash from his jacket pocket and is thumbing through the bills.

“Nick,” he says, and passes some bills to the man in question. Nick counts it and puts it in his pocket. Spada gives him a look as if he’s not too happy about the counting, but he says nothing to Nick. “Frank,” he goes on, and then calls out Chris and Leo. They’re all given varying amounts—Frank gets a good-sized chunk, while Leo doesn’t get much at all. It’s all based on who did what for this fight and what percentages were agreed upon ahead of time. As I recall, Frank was odd man out last time, so Leo must have taken his role this time to make the payments even out.

There’s still a good-sized wad of bills in Spada’s hand when he finishes. He turns his attention to me. “You get your usual, Cain,” he says, and hands me my pile. Then he sorts out a few more bills and holds them out. “And this.”

I give the money a suspicious look, as if it’s going to explode in his hand or something. “What’s that for?”

“For saving my daughter’s life. I owe you big for that, son.”

I’m not sure what to make of the “son,” but I do know what to make of the money. “Keep it,” I tell him. “I didn’t do it for you to pay me off. I did it to keep her safe.” I pause. Yeah, I can say it. “I did it because I love her.”

Spada nods, though I see an eyelid twitch. He’s still not comfortable with the idea of me and Jess together, I can tell. “I didn’t mean to imply anything,” he says. “Just call it a thank-you gift. And maybe an investment in the future.”

I shake my head. “Nope. Keep it. I don’t need it. I don’t want it.”

Looking a bit defeated, Spada lets his hand fall to the table, still holding the bills. I’m relieved; he could have defaulted to his usual anger at me and had me done away with for not being on the same page as he is. He’s in a totally different place today, though, and his next words surprise me. “Is there anything I can do for you, Cain?”

I want to ask him exactly what he means. Does he want to make up for having me beat up—twice—or for making Jess’s life hell? For controlling my life and forcing me to throw fights I could have won? Just for being a general asshole? He has so many choices, after all.

“There’s one thing you can do,” I finally tell him. I don’t shrink from it; I don’t want him to think I’m kidding around, and if I’m reading the room right, this is exactly the right time to put all my cards on the table.

“What’s that?”

“You can get the fuck out of my life. Let me run things my own way. Leave Jess alone. Leave me alone. Let us live our lives. That’s what you can do.”

Spada is silent for a long moment. I know there’s no way he’ll ever meet my terms. He’s too addicted to the control to ever change. I watch his face, looking for any indication of how he’s going to respond. I see nothing. Then, finally, he says, “Let me think on it.”

I guess, for now, it’s the best I’m going to get.