Page 121 of Filthy Little Regrets

I curl my fingers into fists, clenching my jaw, forcing myself to be still, to calm down before I look at her. I don’t want her thinking my anger is directed at her. It’s not. Cassia could rip my heart out, and I’d still forgive her. She’s all I’ve ever wanted.

With trembling hands, she pulls out her phone. My gaze shoots to her face. It’s flushed red. Chest heaving, she tries to control her breathing, but she’s not in control of her body right now. It’s controlling her. She shouldn’t be talking to anyone like this.

“I’ll handle it.”

She shakes her head. “No, no. I have to do it. It’s my j-job.” The device tumbles out of her hold. “Dammit!”

Before she can reach for it, I place my palm on her thigh, scoop the phone off the floor of the car, roll down the window, and toss the device out.

“Maccon David Astor,” she says with a strangled gasp. “That was mine!”

“Tony, change of plans.” I rattle off the address to Cassia’s loft, then turn to my wife. My liar. Her eyes are as wide as saucers, and she’s still shaking, from fear of me or from being shoved into a van, I don’t know. But I really hatethe idea of her being scared of me. “I’ll get you a new phone.”

Grabbing her by the waist, I tug her across the bench seat and into my lap. She sucks in a quick breath and releases a soft sound. A whimper. I grind my jaw. I will not be like my father. My wife should know that, no matter what she does, I’ll never hurt her.

Taking her chin in my hand, I tip her head and wait for those icy blues to meet mine. She may never know how easy it is for me to read her thoughts, and for my sake, I hope she never hides them from me, but what I’m seeing on her face now tears me apart.Are you going to hurt me?

Everything I’ve done since I rescued her from the FBI replays in my head. Every moment when I did something that created this terror. Attacking the agent. Shouting at her to get in the car. Throwing her phone. Pulling her into my lap. Anyone would be scared.

“No, baby,” I rasp, releasing her chin and setting her back on the seat, even though my mind is screaming at me to hold her. “One thing I’ll never do is hurt you.”

Cassia tucks her hands under her legs, and I force my gaze away, staring out the window, hating myself with each passing second she doesn’t speak.

Fuck. As disgust and anger roll over me, all I want to do is kick someone’s ass, to beat my fist against a punching bag until my knuckles bleed and I can’t feel anymore. That’s the problem, though, isn’t it?

Maybe I am like my father.

Self-loathing curdles my insides. The ride is uncomfortably silent. Cassia fidgets beside me, breaths shallow, but not as frantic as they were the night she stumbled upon me with Vito. Even still, we need to get to her apartment, where she’s comfortable, in case the anxiety worsens.

Each inhalation, as she struggles to contain her body’s response, makes my skin crawl. Blood turning icy. Disgust rolling through me. Maybe the panic isn’t all my fault, but I certainly didn’t help the situation. I clench my jaw so tight, my molars creek.

Tony pulls up to the curb, and I launch myself out of the car, giving Cassia as much space as my instincts will allow. She gets out, her knuckles turning white from how tightly she’s clutching the door, her legs unsteady. I reach for her, and her focus flies to my face. Her throat bobs at whatever she sees.

She sets her hand in mine, but it’s vibrating with fear.

Fuck, I hate that.

I choke on my self-hate, lead her inside and up the stairs, unlock her apartment, then force myself to let go of her hand. I drop onto her couch and bury my fingers in my hair, tugging on my strands like I can rip the last hour from our timeline and start over.

This is never who I wanted to be. A fucking monster. She deserves better. More than I could ever give her. The answer shreds my insides, but it’s better this way. She shouldn’t live her life in fear. As much as I want her, I can’t do this to her. She didn’t sayI love youback. I waited, and I’ll continue to wait, but if she doesn’t love me...fuck.

The cushion beside me dips. Her scent surrounds me. I breathe it in, savoring it for the last time, memorizing each subtle note.

“Mace.” Her voice trembles.

Straightening, I stare at the wall as my chest rips open. “I’ll find a way to deal with Vito.” If I look at her, I won’t be able to let her go. An iron fist clamps around my heart. “With the divorce, you’ll be set for life. I won’tfight you. Take whatever you want.” My voice strains, and I clear my throat. “I’m sorry?—”

Cassia crawls into my lap, grabs my jaw, and forces me to look at her. “You’resorry?”

God, she’s gorgeous when she’s mad. “Yeah, baby. I’m sorry.”

“Why?” she demands, chest heaving.

“For scaring you,” I confess. “I’d never hurt you, I hope you believe that. I—” I cut off, look away. “I’m not my father.” Even as I say it, it feels like a lie. I just beat the shit out of some guy because he touched her. Darius kills or incapacitates people who piss him off.

“Oh, Mace.” The softness of her voice is addictive, and my attention zooms to meet her shimmering eyes. The tears are a knife to my gut. “I never said you were like him.”

“You didn’t have to. I saw the way you flinched when I yelled, and then in the car, I... Fuck, Cass. I didn’t mean to scare you.” I clench my fists tighter, keeping my hands to myself, even though all I want is to feel her. “You deserve better.”

---