Paradise Found: Cain (Paradise #2)(15)
His eyes narrowed, and in two steps, he walked around me to my living room. I exhaled deeply with relief. Proud I’d held my ground; I was grateful we had moved away from the bed. I spun to find him looking thoughtfully out a window near the couch.
“Was it bad for you? That day. Did you hate it? Me?”
His voice had taken on a timbre of sadness as his hands slipped into his pockets. He didn’t look as hard, standing like that. He looked innocent, young, and reflective. The silence between us lingered like the breeze coming through the window. My heart dropped in my chest. I had a sudden desire to comfort him, until he swung to look at me. The edge to his face had returned.
“I’ll have a new copy of the papers drawn up. I’d like to offer some financial compensation for your troubles, and your silence. I don’t need the press knowing of this mess.” He removed his hands from his pockets and rubbed one over his scalp, skimming his black hair. The same hand then scrubbed down his face and he shook his head. Without another word, he crossed the short distance to my door. My heart raced. I panicked.
“Cain?” I called softly. “Why are you here?”
He didn’t turn to look at me, but he didn’t continue to walk out the door. His hand rested on the knob, his forehead lowered to the wood.
“This could have all been handled by email. Why are you in California?” I questioned.
We’d both been in Las Vegas hours ago. I didn’t know how he beat me here, other than the fact that traveling by air does take time. His home was in Vegas, though. His lawyers could have handled everything he wanted done from there.
His head slowly rose from the door. His back muscles flexed as he turned the knob.
“Because my wife lives here,” he said roughly then walked out without further explanation.
I’d driven like the devil out of hell, pushing past the penance of a desert into the rolling hills, then the mountains that dipped to the Silicon Valley of Preston University. I knew where Sofie lived with the help of Abel and a private investigator. Hopeful I’d find her at her home, I did; only I didn’t know what to say once she arrived. Did I expect her to jump into my arms and beg for us to stay married? That would have been foolish. I couldn’t be married. It was too much of a scandal. It was too much of a risk. If my father found out about Sofie, he’d try to destroy her like he tried to ruin Elma for Abel. A bitter man over the loss of his first love, he wasn’t willing to let others love without bearing pain. Love hurts, he reasoned when I was still a child. Better to learn that when you are young, he clarified while I was still a boy. I didn’t even understand what love was. I’d never heard the words without the harshness of physical pain accompanying it.
After Sofie’s declaration that she didn’t want anything from me, I found myself at Carrie’s, a small establishment outside of the main town that entertained through nightly displays of tits and ass. I wasn’t there for a performance. I’d had my share of women over the years. I’d even faltered in the past year in hopes to rid my mind of Sofie. It was only Malinda, I reasoned, and most of the time, I couldn’t complete the action. Thoughts of Sofie’s innocent sexuality ruined the potential of a decent blow job or a quick lay. The show at Carrie’s did nothing to excite me, but it was a mindless place to think, despite the raunchy pop music or the dirty classic rock used as background noise to the girls dancing on stage. Not to mention, it was one of the few places I went without risk of being acknowledged.
“Mr. Callahan, a pleasure to see you again.” Chrysanthemum was the owner of this strip club. Her mother had owned a dance studio in town. It was doubtful this is what she hoped her daughter would aspire to with her dance experience. I’d been here enough for her to recognize me, introduce me to a few girls, but I never took the bait. I wasn’t interested in dabbling with the locals.
She had been particularly helpful recently when my brother demanded the removal of Elma Montgomery from the roster of nightly performances. Of course, money always talks, especially when it’s a large figure. She seemed to think this made us friends. I wasn’t interested in her either.
“I saw the fight. Quite a spectacle. I didn’t think you’d be back.” She smiled as she helped herself to the seat across from me. She couldn’t have been older than forty, but she looked well used: darkened skin from smoking, skinny body from drugs, and an aura of willingness if I was a taker, which I wasn’t. She reminded me of the woman who hit on me at The Vineyard Inn, Sofie’s grandparents’ place. Recently divorced, that woman wanted a younger man to wash away the pain of a fifteen-year marriage. I wasn’t interested in being her plaything, though. Some women just felt they had a right, when you are buff and famous, to throw themselves at you, and expect that you’ll take anyone. Instead, I took a good-sized rock off her finger and gave that abused diamond to someone else. It was an omen of poor decision-making.
My finger circled the top of the crystal glass, resting on the table, and then I raised it to my lips. Swallowing hard against the burn of whiskey that cascaded down my throat, I ignored Chrysanthemum. I didn’t need to explain why I was back. It didn’t even make sense to me why I had returned to California.
Taking my silence as a dismissal, Chrysanthemum stood. “You’ll let me know if you need anything, right?” Her voice lowered, the tone sultry and suggestive. She didn’t have what I wanted.