Wrong (A Bad Boy Romance)(97)

Romano’s face burns red. I’ve pushed him too far. Maybe he’ll drop dead of a heart attack right here. I have a feeling that would save us a lot of trouble in the long run.

Through clenched teeth, he growls. His gaze swings to Jessica. “Get over here right now.”

“No!”

He spits—actually spits—on the sidewalk at her feet.

Before I know what’s happening, my fist has connected with Romano’s jaw. He loses his balance and hits the concrete sidewalk. There’s blood on his mouth. I hope I knocked out a tooth. It’d serve him right. I stand right next to him, staring down at where he’s huddled on the ground. There are people all around us, milling, shocked, wondering what to do. I think about beating the shit out of him right here, right now, but instead I just wait until he manages to turn his head, to meet my gaze.

“Learn some manners, Romano,” I tell him. “You ever talk to Jess that way again, and I’ll straight-up kill you.”

I hear him spitting again as Jessica and I head back for the car. Apparently nobody’s thought to call the cops. Unsurprising. It’s probably not the first time they’ve seen somebody punched in the face outside Cartelli’s. I hustle her a little faster than she can walk in her heels, but I just want away from there.

“Cain,” she protests. “Cain, slow down. I’m going to fall and break my neck.”

I slow down a little so she can catch up, then, when we’re at the car, I grab her and kiss her. “You okay?” I ask when I’ve got her taste in my mouth again.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” She smiles at me. “You totally punched him to defend my honor.”

I shake my head, giving her a crooked smile back. “Yeah, I guess I did. You girls like that kind of shit?”

“I don’t know about girls, but I do.” She looks genuinely happy that I put her supposed fiancé on the ground. “He deserved it.”

“Yes, he did.” I’m not going to argue with her on that one. Romano’s an asshole. I can’t even think about him being with Jess without rage tightening my chest. He won’t treat her right. Won’t respect her. Won’t love her.

What do you care?

And that voice inside my head is right. I don’t care. I can’t care.

I pull the car door open and help Jess inside. “Let’s take you home.”

As we drive, her happiness seems to fade, leaving a pale, sober expression behind it.

“He’s right, you know,” she says.

“About what?”

“I’ll have to marry him. Pop will force me to. And then there’s no way I’ll ever get away from him. And Carmine…” She trails off.

“He’s not a good guy.”

She shivers. “No. He’s not.”

I clench my hands on the steering wheel, wondering what he’s done to her. I wonder how Spada could even think about marrying Jess to him, but it makes sense. He’s not looking for a good husband for his daughter. He’s looking for a good heir for his business. Romano’s definitely that. He’s got that thread of violence Spada’s always had. It’s what you need to be a mob boss. You can’t have a conscience and run that kind of an empire.

She runs a hand over her face, and I’m afraid she’s crying again. “There’s no point to any of it, is there?”

I stop the car on the road in front of the Spada house. I’ll drop her off here; if she’s got a car back at the fight venue, I’ll be sure that gets taken care of tomorrow. I don’t want her driving tonight. She’s too upset. “To what?”

“The classes. The school. Studying. Trying to carve out my own life.”

I don’t answer her. I don’t have an answer. I’m still trying to work that one out on my own life.

“Unless…” She trails off. She’s not looking at me. “Unless I can marry somebody else. Somebody who’s not Carmine.”

If she’d turned then, let her gaze meet mine, I probably would have laughed it off. But she doesn’t. She just stares resolutely out the window, and I know damn well what she’s trying to tell me.

“No.” I say, and she looks down at her hands. “That’s the shittiest idea in the history of shitty ideas. And it’s not going to happen, so don’t get your hopes up.” I lean over and kiss her, a little harder than maybe I want to. She needs to be reminded what this is. It’s not some girly love story. I’m not going to suddenly transform into a knight on a white horse and take her away from her mob-constructed castle tower.

She blinks. Maybe there’s a tear—I can’t tell. But she still doesn’t look at me. “Thanks for dinner,” she says quietly.