Page 122 of Broken Pact

“I’m not apologizing for teaching your boys some manners. They touched something that doesn’t belong to them. There are consequences for that.” I shrug, my mouth tilting into a cruel smile. “It’s on you that your boys act like wild animals.”

Falcone squares up to me, his chest puffed out like he’s thinking about taking a swing. “Was that before or after you came to me and bought your little girlie’s bakery here?”

I hear Coraline’s sharp inhale, but I can’t give her my attention, not yet. Not until I get this motherfucker out of her vicinity. He’s got a wild look in his eye, one that promises trouble.

I don’t know if it’s going to be today or next week or next year, but Tony Falcone’s days are numbered.

“You see, sweet cheeks, your man here bought this building. Guess he’s your new daddy now.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and poisonous. I feel the weight of the secret I’ve been carrying crash down around us.

Falcone steps back, his grin never faltering as he watches the destruction he wrought. “See you ‘round, girlie,” he says, sauntering toward the door with an air of smug satisfaction.

The door swings shut behind him, the bell’s chime somehow more ominous than usual.

55

CORALINE

I stare at Jasper, my mind reeling as I try to process Falcone’s parting words. The papers in my hand crinkle as my grip tightens, the black ink blurring before my eyes.

“Baby,” Jasper starts, his voice low and hesitant. He takes a step toward me, but I flinch back instinctively.

“You bought my building.” It’s not a question, but a statement. The truth of it settles like a lead weight in my stomach. “And you didn’t tell me. You lied to me.”

His jaw clenches as he holds my gaze. “I didn’t lie, Coraline. I just hadn’t found the right time to tell you yet.” His voice is strained, an undercurrent of tension running through his words.

I scoff, shaking my head in disbelief. “The right time? How about any time before now, Jasper? Before I had to hear it from that-that asshole.”

Anger and hurt war inside me, twisting my insides into painful knots. I feel foolish, embarrassment burning my skin like I’ve been outside in the sun all day.

He reaches for me, but I shake my head. I don’t want the comfort of his touch right now. I want fucking answers.

He looks at me, his gaze imploring me to understand. “I was going to tell you, baby. I swear. But I was trying to protect you.”

I let out a harsh laugh, the sound grating even to my own ears. “Protect me? From what?”

Jasper runs a hand through his hair, frustration etched into every line of his face. “From Falcone. From the shit he’s mixed up in.”

Tears prick at the corners of my eyes as realization dawns. “You lied to me because you don’t think I can do this—you don’t think I can handle him.I live in fucking Rosewood, Jasper. I’ve been around men like him my whole life.”

My subconscious reminds me that I’m not being entirely truthful. You were scared of Falcone—and his two errand boys. Your way of handling him was just giving in to his extortion. And you had to ask your brother for the money.

I shake my head again, biting the inside of my cheek. I feel like a fool, embarrassment and disbelief circling my neck, tighter and tighter with each rotation. “I can take care of myself, Jasper.” It’s a whispered declaration, and I don’t know who I’m trying to convince: him or me.

“It’s my job and my fucking honor to take care of you. You’re my fucking woman, Coraline,” he growls out, chest heaving.

“Yeah, well, maybe I don’t want to be yours.” Tears shimmer in my eyes, and when I blink, I send them rolling down my cheeks. As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I want to take them back. I’m angry and confused, and too fucking stubborn for my own good sometimes.

I watch something shutter over his expression. He chuckles, this dark, terrible sound as he drags his palm down his face. “Just biding your time before you bail again, yeah? I should’ve fucking known.”

My brows crowd together. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re a fucking runner, Coraline,” he says with a dry, humorless chuckle.

I hate it. And I hate the way something inside of me is twisting up, contorting into this angry, scared woman who always needs someone to help her. And I lash out.

“This isn’t even a real relationship!”

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