Page 22 of Cardinal

Even though I comforted her and wanted to lift her spirits, I always kept things straight with her. The last thing I wanted to do was give her false hopes and promises because like hell I want to deal with the fallout if shit hits the fan. Also, I wasn't good at this comforting business—I found it all a waste of time.

Honestly, I was rather surprised at myself at how I hadn't told Juliet to suck it the fuck up and move on. As harsh as it was, I would have told that to most people. Well, maybe not if they were in her exact situation because that really would be fucked up of me.

Yes, I was a fucked-up person, but not that fucked up. I had loose morals. I knew right and wrong. I just chose to operate in the darker gray zone for the most part.

Speaking of operating… I needed to ensure things for the next fight were going smoothly. I would probably go ballistic if it weren't for these underground fights. It had been too long since the last one was held because I had to shut it down at the last minute due to a leak. So, I have been pent up for months on end.

Actually, maybe that was my problem. Maybe I was more than just pent up regarding my aggression and murderous needs; I was probably pent up sexually, too. Thinking about it, I couldn't recall the last time I had a good fuck because business kept getting in the way. I was probably hung over Juliet because of my stupid raging hormones from not getting laid—not because I couldn't.

A man like me had no issues getting a good woman for a good fucking—I just didn't put the effort into contacting the escort company to send someone. For the most part, dealing with things myself in the shower curbed the edge enough to keep my mind on track, but everyone has a breaking point—even me. Guess I finally reached it again.

It probably didn't help my urges to have a beauty like Juliet hanging on me nearly every day. No matter how much I kicked my stupid brain, apparently, it didn't get the gist that she was off limits. She was much too young for me, and she had so much to live for still for me to damn her to a life with me.

Her life is gonna be damned to you at the end of the year.

Then there was the dumb reminder of my spur of the moment fuck up. I really needed to fix the stupid sham marriage contract shit before it got blown out of proportion.

Fucking hell. So much shit to fix. Fuck me.

Juliet will not be my wife. She couldn't. It wasn't that I didn't want her; it was the sheer difference in our lives. I mean, physically, she was a thing of perfect beauty. Then, if her brattiness was any indication of her personality blooming, then fuck me; I was beyond screwed.

She was still a ball of anxiety and traumatic outbursts, but the periods of reprieve between the attacks were amusing to me. To me, it seemed as if she started to recover pretty well and let her true self come out during those moments, even if she was hesitant and would pull back most of the time; it was heartwarming to see her bloom again.

Then the fact she only let herself come out around me gave me an ego boost I didn't need because it was already too fucking big for me to handle. Of course, then my dick became too hard to handle when she acted up and got all up in my face being a defiant little brat; the dominant side of me wanted nothing more than to grab her by the neck or her hair and bend her over my knee for a spanking, or over the table so I could fuck the attitude out of her.

Fuck, then this morning. The necklace really was an innocent gift for her to wear so that others would know who she belonged to. Yet, it went completely off the rails in my mind when I slipped it around her precious neck. I wanted to rip the flimsy chain off and replace it with a leather collar. Or I could be more insane and brand her with it, really mark her as mine for life.

If I didn't have an ounce of control, I would have given into her fuck me eyes. Juliet would have been pinned to the desk by her neck with my cock buried deep in her tight cunt, fucking her until she couldn't even remember her own name.

Fucking stop it!

Letting out a frustrated growl, I kicked the side of my desk as I shoved my boiling desires away. If only my dick got the damn message and went down, then that would be much appreciated.

Gritting my teeth in a hard scowl, I ran a hand through my ebony hair and gripped at the top of it, hoping the pain would draw my thoughts away from Juliet. "Escort," I muttered to myself through my lustful haze.

Snatching my phone off the desk, I quickly messaged the Madam of the escort company I often used. Just as the message was sent and the phone clattered on the desk from me tossing it, the door to my office opened without an announcement.

"I am sorry for barging in without knocking, but miss Juliet—"

Holding my hand out, I stopped my man mid-sentence. "Where is she?" Any anger I felt was gone when Juliet's name was brought up. It had to be dire for any of my men to barge into my office and risk my wrath.

The faint sobs from Juliet became more prominent the closer my long strides carried me toward the living area. Hit after hit, the louder her heart-wrenching sobs became, the more my body ached. It felt like someone was kidney punching me in the ring, with each step being another blow until it felt endless to where my stomach threatened to empty its contents.

I hated Juliet crying, not because it was annoying, but because it hurt me. Never have I wanted to take someone's suffering away so badly until her. I have ended people's suffering before—with a bullet—just so I could be done with the annoyance. With Juliet, though, I wanted to take it all away to the pits of Hell and lock it away so she could live an unburdened life with me right beside her.

"Juliet, you have to breathe. You're okay."

Well, that didn't sound like any of my men.

Rounding the corner, my eyes instantly landed on a somewhat familiar-looking boy from Juliet's pictures sitting on the couch with Juliet. What was his name? Gage? Gavin? Well, whatever it was, it didn't matter to me through my rising anger at how close he was to Juliet. If Juliet weren't in such distress, I would pick a bloody fight with him—or shove a gun into his gut—but she came first.

Rushing over, I shoved the boy away and pulled Juliet tightly into my arms. "Principessa, shh, you are safe." I spoke deeply into her ear as I stroked the back of her head with one hand. "Focus on my voice," I commanded with a tightening hand around the nape of her neck. "That's it. Brava ragazza." I praised her when her hyperventilating steadied out to even breaths. "Sono così fiero di te. Hai fatto benissimo."

Resting my chin atop her head, I resisted the urge to kiss her forehead—it would have been very inappropriate of me.

"Juliet, what's going on?" Her male friend asked in a very wary voice as he leaned away from me, looking like a scared dog ready to bolt.

"What happened?" I asked no one in particular, my eyes bouncing from Juliet's bodyguards to the boy, then back to Juliet, who was a sniffling mess in my arms.

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