Wrong (A Bad Boy Romance)(81)

And I don’t care what Jessica says—she and I aren’t through. I’ll have her again. She’s just going to have to deal with that. And so is Phil Spada.

“Thank you, sir,” I say to him with a brief, subservient nod, and I turn and walk out of his office.





CHAPTER TWO



Jessica



I run a hairbrush through my hair, feeling it snag on the little snarls and tangles. It pulls, hurts my scalp a little. Which is fine, because it distracts me from the other places where I hurt.

Between my legs. In my mouth, where I can taste the bruises from Cain’s hard, almost brutal kisses. The back of my neck hurts—I’m not sure where that one came from—and my elbows hurt where I shoved myself up on the hard kitchen cabinet.

I still can’t believe it happened. I’ve never done anything like that before, much less with a man like Cain “The Flame” McAllister. A man Pop would never approve of, not in a million years.

But Pop owns him, just like he owns me, and somehow that drew me to him. Last night, and before that, from when I first met him four or five years ago. I’ve always felt a little flare of want when I see him, whether it’s in the ring or in my father’s office—the only two places I’ve ever really seen him.

I already know there’s no future there, for so many reasons. First, I’m not sure what’s going on right now in Pop’s office between the two of them. I know Pop was mad Cain won the fight, although it should have been obvious to anybody that the kid Cain was facing was several skill levels beneath him. I watched the fight, and I’m still not sure how Cain held out as long as he did without taking the kid out. Everybody in that room knew how good Cain is; if he’d lost, I wonder if it would have gone under the radar the way Pop always wants it to.

In any case, just the fact that Cain’s in my father’s stable of fighters means there’s no way I could ever have anything with him. That’s a road I’d be an idiot to go down. Pop would do more than have a shit fit. In fact, I’m not sure what he’d do.

Then there’s Cain himself. Hot, yes, with that honed body, the streaks of ink all over him. I tried to count his tats once and got lost at twenty. He was moving at the time, but still. He’s a work of art in more ways than one.

He’s also an asshole.

Oh yeah, he knows how to fuck a woman. He proved that last night. But I’m not sure he knows how to be with a woman, if that makes sense. How to take care of her, be there for her. Make love to her instead of just fucking her. And let’s face it—I’m not going to find out.

I pull my hair back and wind a tie around it so it’ll stay out of my face. I’ve got some studying to do—I have tests coming up in a week, and I’ll be damned if I’m not going to pass them with flying colors. Anything less and Pop will rub my nose in it—if he finds out, that is. He doesn’t want me going to school in the first place. Wants me to focus on the “family business.” God. That’d be one thing if the family business was, I don’t know, making shoes or raising racehorses or something. But this? No. All he wants me for is to marry me to the guy who’s going to take his place. Make him part of the family. There’s no future in that—not for me, anyway. So I’m taking online classes. He doesn’t need to know.

I grab my e-reader and head downstairs. I want to be outside, in the fresh air. Get some of the stink out of my brain. I’d rather go to the library, but I’m thinking Pop might not be happy about me leaving the house today. I’ll humor him in that, at least for now. Because if I do, it’ll be easier to get out of the house later.

I shake my head a little, disgusted. No grown woman should have to worry so much about what her goddamn father thinks. But that’s life. My life, anyway.

It’s quiet downstairs, and I think I’ll be able to slip out easily. No worries—nobody’s looking for me. But as I swing through the kitchen, there’s Pop.

Shit. The last thing I need right now is a confrontation. Hopefully I can hold him off. That’s at least one reason why I bought e-books to study from—so Pop can’t tell what I’m doing.

He looks up from the coffeepot and gives me a smile. “Hey, honey. Where are you off to?”

“Just out to the porch to read.” I say it airily. He likes it better when I act like there’s not much inside my head.

“What are you reading?”

I shrug. “Just a book Liza told me about.” Liza has terrible taste in reading material.

“What’s it called?”

Of course my mind goes blank. “I forget. Some bestseller. I haven’t started it yet.”