Page 59 of Safe Word

‘Fuck it,’ I ground out and returned inside.

The mirror reflected a composed, controlled man, but the turmoil beneath was harder to conceal.

I stepped out of the building, the load I carried dissolving slightly in the cool air. Sliding into the car, I rushed through the streets. The city was just stirring to life, and my mind was already bracing for the day ahead.

Tomorrow was the Spice Me Up book convention, and my appearance wasn’t just expected – it was essential. My name was plastered high on the list of attending authors, a reminder of the sixty-four published titles I’d written so far – more, if Paula managed to do what she had been hired for.

Paula. She was a distraction I couldn’t shake. A surprise, too. The woman commanded every space she walked into. A damn good writer, too. Her presence was a constant itch at the edge of my mind, a tantalising cocktail of admiration and, perhaps, something far less appropriate.

But she wasn’t Scarlett. She wouldn’t be down for what I needed. She wasn’t the kind of person who’d moan with my knife pressed between her folds, beg with her eyes, surrender without a safety net. So why did I keep watching her like I was waiting for her to do just that?

My phone buzzed on the dashboard, breaking the rhythm of my thoughts. My eyes cut to the screen, and the hospice’s name flashed in bold, glaring letters. Something sour coiled in the base of my throat as I thumbed the call button on the steering wheel.

‘Cain D’Angelo,’ I said, my voice clipped, already tense.

‘Good morning, Mr Cain,’ the polite Italian voice on the other end began. ‘This is Nurse Clara from the hospice. I hope I’m not interrupting.’

I gripped the steering wheel tight. ‘What can I do for you, Nurse Clara?’ I replied in Italian.

There was a brief hesitation and it sent a spike of irritation through me. ‘Your father has been asking to see you. He’s been… persistent since last night.’

The words coagulated in my chest. I forced myself to breathe, my jaw tightening as I tried to suppress the surge of anger and dread threatening to bring me down.

‘I am unable to visit today,’ I said.

‘Yes, we understand,’ the nurse interrupted, her tone deceptively placating, and it took all the effort not to punch the phone sitting on the dashboard’s holder. ‘He’s specifically asking for you. We thought it best to inform you.’

I exhaled through my nose, a sharp, controlled release that did nothing to quell the unrest within me.

‘Inform me next time when it’s an actual emergency.’ I didn’t snap, but I gave it my all to sound final, and then I ended the call before she could respond.

I white-knuckled the wheel. The air in the car felt stifling, bearing down on me as his face flashed through my mind.

Kicking the accelerator, the engine roared down the street.

I was unravelling.

He wanted to see me, wanted something from me, as if the years of torment and abuse could be erased with a few words.

Or it could have been a simpler matter. The devil himself had spat him out – sent him crawling back to me as if to say, ‘You deal with him.’ A punishment for daring to take a life – and failing.

Nonetheless, he wasn’t just a memory any more – he was awake. A living, breathing reminder of everything I’d tried to leave behind. And now, no matter how fast I drove, I couldn’t escape the weight of his presence bearing down on me.

I should have left him in the States.

Why didn’t I?

With the past perched on my shoulders, I dragged myself into the office, my thoughts spinning.

That was when I saw her. Entirely too confident, standing over my coffee maker.

My heart lurched at the sight of her arsenal: sponge, spray bottle, and… a fucking screwdriver?

For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. The events of the morning – the hospice, the emotional load – were already threatening to tip me over the edge. And now this? My sacred coffee maker? Mangling it?

‘What are you doing?’ I asked, my voice dangerously low, though every instinct told me to roar like a lion protecting his territory.

Paula glanced sideways at me, a faint smile playing at her lips. ‘Good morning to you too, boss,’ she replied, her tone bordering on cheeky.