I wait impatiently to hear her say something.
“Tell me,” I urge, my voice dropped to a murmur.
Elodie glares up at me. “The other night, at the engagement party.”
“Yes?” She smells so fucking good.
“Was it…” Her hard gaze dissolves, turning into something more wary, more curious.
“What, Elodie?” I don’t know why my voice has softened. I don’t know why my hands are shaking.
“Was it all an act? For your dad? For everyone else?”
My jaw tightens as I swallow hard. I study her, not understanding the expression on her face. Hope? Scepticism?
“What are you talking about?” my voice has gone hoarse now. It’s getting harder to breathe the longer I stand so close to her. I need to back away, to suck in air that’s not infected with her scent that’s going straight to my veins and nestling in there like some weird, warm fire.
She breaks eye contact, looking down and leaving me with a strange hollowness. “Never mind.”
She spins around and practically runs out the door. I stand there dumbfounded for a moment, heaving in a clear breath. I look down at my hands. I never tremble. I never shake. What the hell just happened?
My thoughts are cut short when my phone starts ringing in my pocket.
“Dad?” I answer, annoyingly breathless.
“Why have I got Brandon showing up at my office with one goddamn hand?”
A smirk spreads my lips as I leave the basement, beginning my long ascent up the staircase. “His fingers looked a bit sticky.”
“Caden,” Dad’s voice brooks no room for jokes. “Why the fuck did you cut off his hand?”
It’s not unusual for me to commit such acts, but it’s less common for me to execute them on employees.
I sigh, not wanting to lie, but also not wanting to admit the real reason. “He tried to make a fool of me. I simply reminded him who the fuck he works for.”
Dad huffs down the phone. “Caden, he’s a driver, how’s he gonna drive with one fucking hand now?”
“He can go on stock duty. Don’t need two hands to count inventory.”
“Caden,” Dad says, then a sigh blows through the speaker. “Is this about Elodie? Because if it is, then –”
I cut him off. “I will not have any man, employee or not, think he can touch my woman. These are the principles you raised me with. I watched you shoot a man between the eyes for just looking at Mum before.” The memory flashes in front of me. Mum.
I swallow down the lump that always fucking grows in my throat whenever I think of her.
Dad stutters, knowing that I have a point, but then finds the words. “Caden, she’s not even your wife yet. And if you carry on slicing off my employees’ extremities because of her, she won’t become your wife.”
I scowl. “Tell your employees to keep their hands to themselves and I won’t have to. I’m simply following the path you laid out for me.”
A pause. “Fine. I understand, just – just think about what you’re doing, okay?”
Believe me, I want to say, it’s all I’ve been doing. I’m still trying to process it myself. “Yes, sir.”
“I’ve got to go. I have a meeting. Talk soon.”
“Bye.”
I put the phone back in my pocket. I can’t understand why Dad would be upset, what I said was true. Watching him protect my mother all those brief years she was with us, how would he expect me not to be the same? Whether my situation is entirely different and I can’t actually stand my own fiancé is irrelevant. We protect our women. That’s it.
