"Gosh, I envy the fact that you have a talent."
"You do, too." She looks at me. "You have a way of making your clients confide in you so you can design the best PR plan. That’s a talent I haven’t seen too many people have."
Maybe, that’s why Cade confided in me, too? "Thanks," I murmur.
"Only stating what I’ve observed." She smiles. "So, what are you going to do?"
I begin to pace. "I can’t go through with this fake marriage thing. I can’t."
"So, tell him."
"You think he’ll listen to me?"
"So, you’re going to let him walk all over you, is that it?"
I stop, then scowl at her. "What are you trying to say?"
"Draw the line. Show him he can’t take you for granted. No matter what your kink is—"
I open my mouth, but she raises her hand. "No matter how the two of you are when you’re intimate, you need to show him that you know your mind, that you can stand up for yourself. It’s the only way he’s going to respect you, you know?" Her forehead furrows. "Besides, maybe you already have the upper hand?"
"Eh?" I frown.
"He’s the one who proposed you fake marry him. He needs this more than you."
"So, you mean to say I can use the situation to my advantage?"
Her features brighten. "Now you’re talking. Own the circumstances. He’s given his word to your brother that he’ll watch over you—"
"—so he says," I scoff.
"So, use the situation to your advantage. Can you do that?"
30
Cade
"You sure are taking your frustration out on that thing, hmm?" JJ Kane smirks at me from behind the punching bag.
I’m at the gym in the 7A Club. Being back from tour means I have a few weeks off before I need to report back to the team’s fitness sessions. Doesn’t mean I’m going to slack off when it comes to working out. For an athlete like me, my reflexes and fitness levels are what set me apart on the field. It means the difference between being good and being great. And considering I’m pushing thirty, it’s even more important to keep myself in top form. Which means, working out, at least, three hours a day. I could use the gym at Lords, but after being on tour for eight months with the same set of men, I don’t want to see their faces again for a while, so 7A is the perfect escape.
If only I could also dissuade my friends and acquaintances from coming by and saying hi.
I scowl at JJ, hoping he’ll get the message and leave. But the wanker merely widens his grin and nods toward the speed bag. Okay then. I gather my strength, then ram my left fist into the punching bag, then the right, then the left again and the other. I keep at it until my biceps burn, my triceps scream in agony, and my shoulders protest. Sweat drips down my temples and clings to my chest planes by the time I pant to a stop. My chest rises and falls as I take a step back.
"Not bad." JJ snatches up the towel I dropped to the ground earlier and hands it to me.
I nod my thanks and wipe my face before balling it and throwing it back at him. Without any change in expression, he hangs it around his neck, then beckons to the mat. "How many sit-ups can you do before you collapse, you reckon?"
"Many more than you can, I reckon," I scoff.
JJ’s smile widens. "Not a competition, ol’ chap."
"Life’s a competition, then you die."
"Ah, the confidence of callow youth. If only you realized life’s a marathon, not a sprint." JJ says on a sigh, then adds, “And sometimes, it’s a relay race.”
"I’ll let you get on with the marathons and relay races. Give me hard and fast and on my own any day, except when it comes to sex, of course."
I prowl toward the exercise mat I used earlier, then throw myself down on my back. I stretch out my legs, and JJ holds my ankles. I begin my sit-ups, and his grip tightens to stabilize me.
"How’s Abby doing?"
I frown up at him, but don’t interrupt my rhythm. "What’s it to you?"
He laughs. "Simply being polite."
"Well don’t be," I snarl.
"You’re possessive about her; that’s good. You’re going to need all of that aggression to fight off the suitors."
"Suitors?" I pause half-way up my next sit-up. "What do you mean, suitors?"
"You do know she’s a mafia princess?"
"She’s disowned her parents."
"But have her parents disowned her?"
This time I straighten.
"What do you mean?"
"Her father is—"
"A prick," I snap.
"And one of the most powerful mafia lords in the world. She’s his only daughter. You think he’s going to give up the opportunity to make a match for her with a rival mafia clan? It’s the way this world works. Sons are heirs and daughters are collateral damage."
"I can’t claim to know the ins and outs of how a mafia lord thinks, although I’m assuming you know all about it, given your background."
"Pot, kettle, and all that?"
I narrow my gaze on him. "You have something to say, old man?"
His lips curve up in what’s supposed to be JJ fucking Kane’s version of an innocent smile. My arse. It’s like the smile of a shark while baring its teeth. "Just that you need to look after what’s yours better."
"The fuck you talking about?"
"If she were mine—" I lunge at him, but he evades me, and in a move that belies the fact he’s at least twenty years older, he grabs my wrist and twists. I find myself sprawled on my chest, with my arm doubled behind my back.
"Stop talking about her," I growl.
"This temper is bound to be your downfall, my boy."
"Keep talking and that’s not the only thing that’s going to be a downfall, my man."
He laughs. "Very good. A halfway decent rejoinder, too. Why don’t you rein in that superiority complex of yours and listen to what I have to say, hmm?"
I try to pull free, but asshole only tightens his grip. Pain shoots up my arm, and I pant. "The fuck you trying to tell me, grandpa?"
"None of your insults take away from the fact that I keep my girlfriend, who’s eleven years younger than you, by the way, very sexually satisfied."
"You buy the factory that makes those little blue pills?" I sneer.
"Actually, I hold the patent to a competitor that’s made from herbs and is ten times more effective, but that’s beside the point."
I glance at him over my shoulder. "What-fucking-ever."
"The classic rejoinder of the youth." He blows out a breath. "We could stay all evening trading insults, but I’m afraid time is of the essence."
A cold sensation grabs my chest. "The fuck you talking about?"
He inclines his head. "As I was saying, if she were mine, with an emphasis on the if—because she’s yours, not mine, and I’m very happy with my Lena, thank you very much—but if she were Lena, I’d never let her out of my sight."