"Stop." I jump off the barstool and take a few steps back from him. "Stop doing that."
"Doing what?"
"That!" I point a finger at him. "You’re reading my mind."
"I am?" He inclines his head. "I’m just trying to be honest. For the first time in my life, I’m not hiding behind all that bluster and swagger. This is me, without any of the masks I’ve worn before. This is me, shorn of all pretense."
I drag my fingers through my hair. "I still don’t know whether to believe you."
He flinches, then lowers his chin to his chest. "I deserve that,” he whispers “And you shouldn’t feel pressured to do anything you’re not ready for. I truly believe that." He slides off the stool, then limps over to the sink and washes his hands, before turning to lean a hip against the sink. "I’ll be out of here as soon as my clothes are dry."
"That’s going to take a few hours more." I yawn suddenly.
He looks at me with concern. "You should go to sleep."
"I’m good."
"You look tired. I’m sorry I got you out of bed." He rubs the back of his neck. "That was classic me, huh? Still being selfish and thinking only about myself."
"What are you talking about?"
"I thought it was a good idea to keep a vigil outside your window, but I wasn’t thinking about the impact it would have on you. Or rather, I knew how it would affect you, which is why I did it. And I ended up spoiling your sleep." He shifts his weight from foot to foot. "I really am sorry I messed up your night."
"Please, don’t apologize. I’m glad I saw you. If I hadn’t, you’d still be out there in the rain and you’d probably get sick."
"I would’ve deserved it."
"I don’t want anything to happen to you, Cade." I scowl.
His features soften further. "That’s the goodness in you, Abby. Even when you were a snotty mafia princess, I could see you were only putting on a front. I could see the light in you. The brightness that attracted me to you, that made me want to circle you and draw on your brilliance. You were the incandescence in my otherwise bleak life."
My heart melts into one, big, gooey mess. My pulse grows erratic. Goodness, when he puts his mind to it, he has a way with words, doesn’t he? And you know what? He means it. This isn’t a manufactured PR line or some bullshit he’s spewing because he wants to get into my pants.
Of course, he does want to sleep with me—I only need to look at that short-short bathrobe which reveals so much of those muscular, hair-sprinkled thighs, and how the fabric barely covers the tent over his crotch, to know he wants to fuck me. Which, let’s face it, is very flattering. He wants me. He finds me attractive, no matter that I don’t have any make up on and am wearing my oldest yoga pants and sleep shirt, and my hair is in rats’ nest about my face.
To be fair, it’s never mattered what I wore, he’s always wanted me. That much, I’ve been sure of. It’s just the rest of the stuff—how he has the power to tear my heart to pieces— which scares me. How he has the ability to hurt me. How he can reduce me to a crumbling, sobbing mess with just a word or a harsh look. How, if he demands I throw myself on the floor and open my thighs to him, I’ll do it, no questions asked. I wrap my arms about my waist. "What am I going to do now?"
He features grow serious. "Now, you’re going to sleep in your bed. I’ll take the couch."
"You’re too big for it."
His lips kick up. "I’ll manage."
I bite the inside of my cheek. "What, you’re not going to smirk about the fact that I said you’re too big?"
He raises his hands, a too-innocent look on his face. "It didn’t cross my mind." He chuckles. "Okay, it did cross my mind, but it didn’t seem like the time to say something douchebaggy."
I laugh. "Gosh, you’re taking this whole act-like-a-decent-man-to-woo-Abby, seriously, aren’t you?"
"Very seriously. And I like that word."
"Which one?" I ask.
"Woo. That’s what I want to do, Abby. I want to court you. I want you to get to know me better, and I want to find out everything about you."
I flush. "There’s not much to learn. It’s not like I’m a very interesting person."
"To me, you’re more intriguing than the Mona Lisa. More gorgeous than hitting a six in the stadium. It’s more satisfying to spend time with you than to win a match against my fiercest opponents. And to watch you smile gives me a far greater thrill than leading the English cricket team."
I blush even more, then lower my chin. "You sweet-talker, you."
"Only the truth, baby." He walks over to stand in front of me, leaving enough distance so I don’t feel overwhelmed by his presence. "Off to bed with you now. I don’t want you having dark circles under your eyes. Although I’d still find you beautiful."
56
Cade
I’m up before dawn, having slept for maybe an hour or two. I grab my now dry clothes from the washing machine and pull them on, then fold the robe and the duvet, placing them on the pillow. I walk across the silent living room, and with one last look at the door to her bedroom, I let myself out.
I walk down the flight of steps and out the front door, and I’m assaulted by flashbulbs. Oh, fuck! I blink, then school my features into one of nonchalance. "'Sup, boys?"
The paps keep clicking away. I shut the door behind me and shoulder my way past them.
"You and Abby still together, Cade?"
"Is it true you split up?
"Did you spend the night with Abby? Did you two make up?"
I turn on the reporter who asked the question. "None of your business," I grind out.
The man’s eyes light up. Fuck. Replying to the question was a tactical error. The question was, clearly, a fishing expedition aimed at getting a reaction, and I fell for it.
I turn and begin to walk up the sidewalk when I hear, "Is it true the engagement is fake?" The same reporter’s voice reaches me.
I freeze. The fuck? How did they get wind of that? Was it that…motherfucking Mullet. Definitely, he’s the one behind it.
I square my shoulders and keep walking, with the news people in tow.
"Not that I’m surprised. She might come from money, but she doesn’t compare to the supermodels you’ve dated, eh?"
Anger roars through my veins. I freeze, then turn slowly to face him. "The fuck you talking about?"
The reporter pulls back his lips. "Not the best-looking fish in the sea, eh? Not to mention, she’s overweight, and she—" I leap forward, grab him by his collar and haul him to his feet. "Don’t fucking talk about her, you piece of shit, you—"
"Cade!" Abby’s voice reaches me. "Cade, up here."
I glance up to find Abby leaning out of her bedroom window. She holds my gaze, then shakes her head slowly. I draw in a breath, then another, but make no move to release the bastard.
That’s when she shoves one leg over the windowsill.