I wouldn’t have tried this hard if it hadn’t been for that wobble along the way. I wouldn’t have been this steadfast in my endeavor, this single-minded in becoming the best in my field, if it hadn’t been for that early setback. For that matter, I wouldn’t have become a billionaire within eighteen months if I hadn’t been so firm about multiplying the money I made from my sponsorships by having Sinclair Sterling and his team invest it for me.
So, in a way, I owe everything I’ve become to this woman. She may have betrayed me, but I’ve punished her enough for it. She may have turned my world upside down, but she’s paid the price for it. Besides… What I feel for her now… What I feel about her being hurt, about whoever dared to do this to her… It’s confusing, but also, clear.
I was meant to protect her. Knight was there for me when I needed him most, but I wasn’t there for his sister, and for this, I will never forgive myself.
"Abby, look at me."
When she only glances away, I pinch her chin, so she has no choice but to raise her gaze at me. She swallows but doesn’t say anything."
"When I reached your apartment and found your door open, I thought… I thought my heart was going to stop. And then I walked into the bathroom and found you sobbing on the floor. I couldn’t breathe. The fear inside me was like nothing I have ever experienced. I was more afraid than when I was caught in the gang war. More in pain than when I was being tortured. I was so afraid it felt like my entire body was going to seize up. I can’t stand to see you crying, Abby. I cannot bear to look at that bruise and realize if I had been with you, I could have stopped it from happening."
"It wasn’t your fault," she whispers.
"I should have insisted you move in with me. Should have made sure my phone was with me. I should have checked in on you earlier." I shouldn’t have been trying so hard to put you out of my mind.
"How could you have known my stalker was going to burst in on me? Besides, he didn’t hurt me. I hurt myself when I fell on the coffee table and—"
"Hold on. Your stalker?" Fear bubbles up my throat. Bile laces my tongue and I swallow it down. "You have a stalker?"
She half-laughs. "I work in PR, I’m on social media, and I’m a Mafia princess. Of course, I have a stalker.” She squares her shoulders. “You don’t belong to Gen Z unless you have a stalker."
I draw down my eyebrows, and she wipes the smile off her face. "You’re angry?” She blinks.
"Of course, I’m angry. You have a stalker, Abby, and you never told me."
"You were too busy hating me until a minute ago, remember? In fact, I don’t understand why you’re this upset. Nothing happened."
"You hurt your face," I snarl.
"I doubt he’ll show himself again. I’m sure everything will go back to normal. You can go back to being horrible to me, and I can go back to making sure I do everything to prop up your reputation." She tries to pull away, but I don’t let go.
"Everything changes after this, make no mistake. You’re going to have security on you twenty-four-seven. I’m going to make sure I spend every moment I’m not on the field with you. I’m going to keep you safe, Abby." And track down the motherfucker who dared come after what’s mine and teach him the kind of lesson he’ll never forget.
She scowls. "You’re being overdramatic. I’m fine."
"Your forehead is swollen."
"It’s a bump."
"The skin is reddened," I growl.
"It’ll heal."
I’m in love with you. Wait, what? No. Where did that come from? I didn’t say that aloud, did I?
"Cade, you okay?" She peers up at me. "Cade?" She touches my cheek.
I blink, then turn so she’s forced to drop her hand. I catch the hurt in her eyes, and everything in me rebels. Fuck, fuck, fuck. All you can do is hurt her. Everything you say and do is causing her more pain. Haven’t you done enough to mess up her life? You need to make it up to her. I rise to my feet, still holding her, and stalk out of the bathroom.
"I’m fine, but you’re not. I need to get you out of these clothes."
"I can do that," she protests.
"Humor me." I walk toward her bedroom, my wet shoes making squelching sounds with each footstep.
"You’re dripping water onto my floor."
"Too bad."
I lower her onto the bed, and she scowls. "Now, my bedclothes are wet."
"Deal with it."
“You’re acting unreasonable.”
I pause, then glare at her over my shoulder, “Someone broke into your apartment and hurt you. Someone dared touch you. Someone decided it was a good idea to scare you so much you still look like you’re going to faint.” I ball my fists at my side. “The only person who gets to touch you, the only person who gets to hurt you, the only person who’s allowed to make you experience any extreme emotion is me. Unreasonable doesn’t cover a single percentage of how I’m feeling at the moment.”
She swallows. Her chest rises and falls. Her pupils dilate, and fuck me, but I know she’s turned on. And that turns me on. And that...is not good; not right now. Not when I need to take care of her. Not when I need to prioritize her. Not when I need to ensure that I get her out of those wet clothes before she catches a cold.
“Stay,” I stab a finger in her direction, then pivot and head toward her closet. I rummage around. Not that teeny dress. What the—? That blouse is too transparent. Such a short skirt. And those skinny jeans? They’ll mold to her thighs and show off every curve of her luscious arse. No fucking way, is she wearing any of this again. As for the lingerie? She’d better not wear the tiny triangle she calls panties again, unless it’s for me. In which case, she can make do without it all together, because she won’t be needing them with me.
But—I pause—she’s Knight’s sister. And while I might have slept with her before, that doesn’t mean I’m going to do it again. Knight would kick my arse if he found out. Besides, he has enough on his plate without having to worry about his sister. The least I can do now is step back from making her life miserable. The best course of action is to make it up to her for what I’ve already put her through.
I drop the lingerie, grab the clothes I find most suitable, along with a towel, then turn to her. "Here." I hold them out.
She glances at the garments, then back at me.
"Those baggy jeans are what I wear at home."
"You’re wearing them out now."
She frowns. "That sweatshirt is too big for me."
Perfect! I stare at her, expressionless.
"And granny panties?" Her frown deepens. "I bought them as a joke."
The joke’s on me, alright. The thought of her sliding into those knickers sends the blood draining to my groin. I thrust the clothes at her, so she has no choice but to accept them. Then I turn my back on her.
"Wh…what are you doing?"
"Giving you privacy to get dressed."
There’s silence, then, "Ah… Are you feeling okay, Cade?"
"Never been fucking better," I growl.