The Wrath of Cain (The Syndicate, #1)(21)

It’s hard as hell not to let my fingers run over her smooth skin. Trace the outline of those lips I have missed so much. What I wouldn’t do to be able to lean in and kiss her, suck in her oxygen so I could feel like I’m truly breathing for the first time in six years. I love her so much this is killing me. That’s right. I f*cking love this woman, and here I sit hurting her, abusing her over and over again.

I look down again in disgust. I’ve never wanted anything in my life, except her. For her to love me. To think about me all day long, counting down the hours until we can be together. For her face to light up the minute I walk through the door. To just be able to be with her, hear her laugh. See her smile. To touch her. Hold her. Hear her say good morning, good night, and I love you, all the things most couples in society take advantage of. Those are my wants, but I’m afraid after all of this is said and done, those wants will become a distant fantasy.

I have a damned mole around here. They’ve most likely already told that * ass Kryder she’s here, which means she needs to stay by my side. We can both pretend all we want that we hate each other. Let everyone believe it. But behind these walls, or whenever we are alone, I will prove to her how much she means to me. How much I love her above anyone or anything else.

I’m not dumb enough to believe they will think it, but Calla needs to believe that if the mole thinks I don’t give two shits about her, then Kryder will stay the hell away from her and so will whoever he has working on the inside. It may be the one thing that will save her life.

She needs to stay here and keep acting like she hates me, like this is the last place she wants to be. The trick is, she has to do it my way and listen to me. She should have never come back here, damn it. I should send her away. Call her dad and tell him to come and get her.

Can a person truly loathe themselves, I wonder? Self-hate is a dark hole, known by me best of all. I’m nothing but the man I’ve created for myself. A man left with my own thoughts for years. I’ve dug my own grave by not being the husband Calla deserves. All I’ve done, I’ve done for her, but right now, it’s best that she thinks I’m nothing but a rotten prick.

The way she pummeled Emerald, though, I can see she’s one strong woman. I stood there and could not move, my eyes not believing how she just flipped her around and punched her repeatedly in the face without a second thought. Yeah, my dick twitched like a happy camper watching her fist connect with Emerald’s jaw. She deserved it, the stupid, trouble-making slut, for spouting off a bunch of lies.

I chuckle to myself. Calla can hold her own, especially after what I saw tonight. She sure doesn’t need to toughen up; she’s got that handled. She actually needs to calm the hell down and hold her shit in when these bitches talk smack to her. Not everyone will go down as easy as Emerald did. I’ve f*cked every single one of the women who hang out around here, and left all of them wanting more. All of them knowing they will never get more.

All of them, except Emerald. She already thinks I’m hers. I’ve never been hers; I’ve always belonged to the woman who’s sitting across from me. Who’s in my home.

Even though I know the truth of who he is, it still gutted me to the core seeing Manny getting to comfort her. That man, friend, family, or not, is going to have to keep his hands to himself. No one touches what belongs to me. Never. And she definitely belongs to me. If I ever hear the word ‘divorce’ come out of her mouth again, I’m going to lose my shit. Tell her to eat shit. And to f*ck that shit.

Enough of the pep talk. I need to move on and get this done.

“You need to listen to me,” I begin harshly. “If you don’t do exactly what I tell you to do, I’m going to be calling your parents and telling them to plan your damn funeral, because that smart mouth of yours is going to end up getting you killed.”

I lift my face to hers to show her I mean what I say, and nearly come undone at what I see.

I’m tortured watching her eyes well up with tears. Her shirt is ripped, exposing her lacy, nude-toned bra with her plump breasts spilling out over the top. That sexy-as-hell skirt has ripped halfway up her leg. This is goddamned cruel. Even though she’s a mess, she’s still so damn beautiful. Fucking perfect, even with makeup all over her face. There’s even a smudge of dirt on her cheek. I’d give anything to reach up and wipe it clean. To see her smile.

When she simply nods her head, I have never hated myself more than I do right now.

Good. This is how she needs to be; scared and utterly frightened. I’m about to thrust her into a vortex, and I pray like hell that her time in law school has turned her into one hell of a dangerous shark, because she sure as hell needs to be a tough ass bitch to handle this life.

God, I’m a sick f*ck for doing this. There is no way in hell she will ever forgive me once this is done. If it wasn’t for the fact that someone has a hit out on her, I would drag this shit out as long as I possibly could just to keep her near me. The minute this is over she’ll be gone, leaving me no choice but to let her divorce me. Hell, she may even kill me herself.

Her lips stop quivering, her gaze going down to her hands resting in her lap. I extend my arm out to her and she flinches. Christ, she thinks I’m going to hit her. And even though her thinking I’m that big of an * falls right in with my plans, it makes me feel like shit.

I need to move away from her before I do something stupid like pulling her into my arms. I get up and move to a chair on the opposite side of the room, gather my thoughts, and prepare to tell her every damn thing, starting with the part that needs to make her fear for her life.