Page 29 of Wicked Sinner
“It isn’t gone,” I tell her calmly. “I told you I’ll pay the mortgage. There will be other customers?—”
"That garage is my life! It's my father's legacy!" Bridget seethes at me, her hands curled into fists. The scratches she lefton my face sting, but I ignore them for now. I need to make her see reason.
“Nothing will happen to it. I promise you that,” I tell her as calmly as I can. “Right now, the focus is you, Bridget, and the child you’re carrying. I’m trying to help us both?—”
"By forcing me into a marriage I don't want?" She spits the words at me, and I feel my jaw clench. This is going to be more difficult than I expected it would.
"By giving you and our child the protection of my name. My family’s name."
Bridget laughs humorlessly, her eyes sparking with rage. "Your family? You mean the criminal organization that your father ran? The one that probably got him killed?"
My entire body goes rigid, anger rippling through me at her assumptions. The things she’s speaking of that she knows nothing about.
"My family has survived and thrived in this city for generations," I say tightly. "We protect what's ours. And you're mine now, whether you like it or not."
"I'm not yours," Bridget snaps. "I'm not anyone's. And I sure as hell won't be trapped in some mafia marriage, living in fear for the rest of my life."
“You’re not going to live in fear!” I let out an exasperated breath. "I would never let anything happen to you. Never."
“I’m talking about living in fear ofyou!” she spits out. “You’ve taken away my freedom now. My choices. Mylife. All because you think you have some kind of claim on me?—”
“I do!” The words come out as a roar, and Bridget shrinks back, the first time I’ve seen her cower away from me. It makes something ache in my chest, makes me wonder if I need to step back and reconsider how far this has gone—but what can I do now? She’d run at the first opportunity, and I can’t let her go. “You are carrying my child. My heir. That’s all there is to it.”
“You don’t have any claim on me.” Bridget’s voice has gone flat. “You have a prisoner. That’s it.”
We look at each other for a long moment, both breathing hard. I draw mine in slowly, trying to calm down as I look at this woman who has completely upended my life.
And, I suppose, I’ve done the same to her.
“Eat,” I say tiredly. “Get some rest. I’m going to make a doctor’s appointment for you—a house call,” I add, when I see a gleam enter her eyes. “You’re going to stay in this room until you can prove to me that you’re not going to try to run.”
Bridget crosses her arms over her chest. “I guess I’m staying in here forever, then.”
I sigh, running a hand through my hair. “I guess so.”
We’ve both run out of fight for the moment, it seems. I look at her for a long moment—beautiful and wild and ready to claw my eyes out—and turn back to the door, letting myself out into the hall without another word.
With the door closed and locked again, I lean back against it, waiting to hear her shrieks and curses. But she’s quiet, evidently as exhausted as I am for the time being. My hands curl into fists as I try to regain my self-control, to remind myself that this is necessary.
I don’t know why I thought she would come easily. She was a spitfire when I met her. Kidnapping her was never going to go over well. But I thought she would see sense once I got her here.
Hell, I didn’t think it would get this far. I thought that she’d accept my offerbeforeI knew she was pregnant, and after, when I was no longer asking her to be my mistress but to beminecompletely?—
I'm offering her everything. Wealth beyond her wildest dreams, security for her and our child, protection from a world she can't even begin to understand. I'm handing her a life that most women would kill for, and she's throwing it back in myface like it's garbage. Last night I was at a party with gorgeous, connected, influential women vying for exactly what I’m trying to give Bridget, and she’s behaving like I’m putting her on death row.
The frustration burns through me like acid, making my jaw clench so hard I'm surprised my teeth don't crack. I've never met anyone so stubborn, so determined to fight against their own best interests. It's maddening. It's infuriating.
And, in some twisted, fucked-up way, it also turns me on.
Even now, thinking about the way she stood up to me, the fire in her eyes as she told me she'd never marry me, makes my cock twitch, thickening as I remember the way she felt against me when I caught her. The way her body responded to mine despite her protests, the way her breath caught when I touched her face—she can deny it all she wants, but the chemistry between us is undeniable.
Hell, even her scratching me turned me on. It just made me think of what her nails would feel like on my shoulders, my back, digging into my flesh as I make her come on my cock again.
Fuck.I shove away from the door, heading downstairs and pulling out my phone as I walk. I need to think, preferably with some distance between myself and Bridget so she’s not clouding my thoughts. I can’t think clearly around her.
I could use someone to talk to about all of this, too. And I have at least one friend left in Miami, someone not connected to the mafia and who won’t judge me for the way everything has gone down since I got back.
“You free tonight?” I ask as soon as he picks up after a few rings. “I need a fucking drink and a chat.”
