Page 146 of Double Standards
“With what?” My voice is cool, even, measured. But she’s spent enough time in my space now to hear the subtle shifts when I’m being evasive. When I’m playing dumb. Cassie’s smart like that. Dangerous, in the way a woman gets when she knows you better than you’d like her to.
“With Daniels going missing?”
I finally lift my eyes to meet hers. She’s not accusing. She’s pleading. That’s worse. That means she’s still holding onto hope. Still believing I might have kept my hands clean just this once.
“Do you really want me to answer that question?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
“Axel,” she scolds.
“Cassie,” I warn.
She slams the paper down and moves across the room like she owns it—like she ownsme. There’s nothing tentative in the way she steps between me and my desk, wedging herself between my control and my patience.
She perches on the edge of the surface, bare thighs brushing the cool wood, wearing nothing but my stolen shirt. It’s a distraction, one I’m not above indulging in. My eyes flicker downward. She sees it. She always sees it.
“There is an order to things, Axel,” she huffs. “The police can arrest him for what he did, but you won’t let me speak to them.”
Her voice is firm, but soft in the places she knows I’ll feel it most. She thinks this is about justice, but it’s more than that. Seeing the state she was in when Daniels had attacked her, it broke something inside of me. Something I didn’t realize was there. And I dealt with it the only way I knew how.
“Let the city deal with it,” she pleads.
I let the corner of my mouth curl upward, just slightly. “Iamthe city, Cassie.”
That makes her scowl. She crosses her arms, digging her heels in. “Return him, Axel.”
I lean back in my chair, exhaling slowly, eyes never leaving hers. I could lie. I’ve lied to more powerful people than her. But I don’t lie toher.
“That’s going to be difficult,” I admit.
And just like that, the light in her eyes dims. It’s a small shift, barely perceptible to anyone else, but me. She knows what I’m not saying. Daniels isn’t missing. He’s not waiting to be found.
He’s dead.
“You’re no better than him,” she whispers, and starts to turn away.
I catch her wrist before she can escape, pulling her gently butfirmly toward me. I press my forehead to hers, grounding myself in her warmth.
“That may be so,” I murmur. “But the difference between me and him is, I don’t pretend to be anything other than what I am.”
She flinches, just slightly. Not out of fear, but out of the truth in my words. That truth cuts deeper than any lie.
Still, I see the weight settling on her. Guilt, disappointment, the war between who she wants me to be and who I really am. So I cup her chin, force her to look at me, to see the fire I’ve never hidden from her.
“No one threatens you and gets away with it. No one hurts you and walks away whole. The man had it coming. He wanted the best of both worlds. The clean image, the dirty money. But it doesn’t work like that.”
I feel her breath catch, and I ease my grip, my thumb sweeping over her jaw. She’s listening now, not to argue, but tounderstand.
“He was in deeper than you realize,” I say, softer now. “He played with the wrong men, took money from the wrong hands. And unlike you, Cassie, I have no limits. I’ll do whatever it takes. My hands will always be dirty, but they’ll never let anyone touch you again.”
She doesn’t respond. Not at first. I can see the thoughts racing in her head. I wonder if she’s imagining those same hands—bloodstained, violent—cradling her in bed. Calming her panic. Cleaning her wounds.
She knows what I’m capable of. But she also knows what I’m capable offor her.
“Ax—”
“You look hot as fuck in this shirt,” I cut her off, my voice rougher than I intend. I need the shift—I need to steer us away from everything simmering just beneath the surface. The tension is suffocating, electric, too charged to be ignored. I need a release. I needher.
I reach for the hem of her oversized shirt—myshirt—and tugit gently, watching the fabric inch higher up her thighs like it has a mind of its own. It clings to her in all the right places, teasing curves I already know by heart. She doesn’t flinch, doesn’t shy away. Of course she doesn’t. She meets my gaze with a smirk that’s pure, cocky confidence.
