Paradise Found: Cain (Paradise #2)(19)

“Sofie,” Cain pleaded. “Come eat with me.” His voice was soothing, and I cursed myself for the way it warmed me. The way it drew me away from the dreaded papers. I turned to find him seated, waiting for me to take a seat next to him. The setting was too familiar. He seemed so out of place in this house, and yet he appeared rather comfortable here.

I sat, taking a bite of the most delicious pasta I’d ever tasted. I might have moaned in appreciation and noticed that Cain was watching me. He smiled slightly before he took a bite himself. I was comfortable being in this dining room. After several seconds, though, the awkwardness returned.

“Maybe I should just sign the papers and get it over with,” I spoke, trying to rid my jumpiness and doing a terrible job of it. My nerves were almost consuming me.

“Maybe you could tell me how you’ve been?” he asked. I blinked in surprise. A year had passed. Surely, he couldn’t care one bit about the past year.

“I…”

“Did you see David?” his voice teased as he interrupted me.

“David?”

“Yes, the man hung like a horse. Was he what you thought?” he provoked further.

“Excuse me?” I stared at him in disbelief. Who the hell was David, and how would I know what his body parts looked like? I turned red at the thought, and Cain smiled devilishly before he took another deep sip of his wine. He waited a beat for my face to clear.

“David?” he repeated in a forced Italian accent. “You saw him in Italy.”

My face instantly turned pink again. He’d remembered my mentioning that I planned to see the Statue of David by Michelangelo when I went abroad. I had teased him with my desire to “meet” David because of the size of his human anatomy.

“I did,” I swallowed. My eyes puzzled that he recalled the conversation.

“I would have liked to have been there. For comparison sake, of course,” he smiled slightly.

“Of course,” I giggled, letting go of some of my nervous energy.

“I’ve heard Italy is…romantic. Was it?” he inquired, his voice softening. It was a strange question to ask, and I didn’t want to assume he had an ulterior motive for asking.

“It was and it wasn’t. I mean Italy would be the perfect place for a hon….” My voice trailed off. Honeymoon. When he asked me to continue to pretend our false wedding, he promised he’d take me to Italy for a honeymoon. I remembered his words, but I blocked the thought. It was hard enough traveling through romantic villas and crowded piazzas, wondering what it would be like, if I was there with a lover, not a group of college students. Looking up, I was reminded of what Lindee warned: Cain isn’t a lover; he’s a fighter.

It was time to change the subject.

“Tell me about your next fight.”

“Let’s not talk about fights, tonight.” I acquiesced with a nod. I didn’t really want to know the details of his decision to fight his brother. It was too asinine in my opinion. What did it prove to fight your own brother? But as long as we were having this difficult moment of sharing, I did want to understand better why he fought in general.

“How did you get into fighting?”

“Sofie,” he sighed, warning me.

“I’d just like to know. Try to…understand you,” I offered. He took another deep sip of his wine, and then began a tale of how his father encouraged boxing when he was young. It evolved to mixed martial arts for him, because of the diversity of moves. While he didn’t mind pounding into someone, he liked the ability to use his legs as well. Any part of him could be used to strike. He emphasized this with a quick jab of his cobra-covered arm and I flinched then giggled in surprise. His movements were so rapid and controlled.

“Don’t…don’t be afraid of me, Sofie. That would be the worst thing you could do.”

“I’m not,” I lied. It wasn’t his physique I feared, or rather it was. If his body was used against me, I’d lose my battle to stay removed from him. His easy banter, as he talked of learning to fight, reminded me of our first dinner. Once we began talking, we were comfortable with one another. The conversation filled our thoughts with other things than the blue envelope that was burning a hole in the sideboard behind me.





She was so f*cking beautiful and I was going to hell for dragging this process out further. She wore those damn sexy red glasses and seductive red lipstick that I imagined drawing a new pattern of design on my already inked body. When she smiled, her face glowed, as if what she said, or rather what I said, was the most interesting thing in the world. She didn’t overly smile. It was more of a slow burn that brightened up as her lips rose. I should have kissed her that first night, not shoved my fingers into her. I just wanted her attention. I wanted her to remember. Her lip twitched as I stared while she gave some explanation about something in Italy. I wasn’t listening. That mouth was the sweetest candy, distracting me, and I wanted one more lick of them.

I had to stop thinking about her lips, I scolded myself.

My phone dinged in the kitchen and I ignored it, but when it buzzed again two seconds later, Sofie suggested it might be important. I couldn’t think of anything more important than prolonging this dinner, keeping her attention, and holding that smile. But when it rang one more time, I decided to excuse myself.