Page 92 of Scandalous Contract
Reading that mug had brought back memories that haunted me almost every night. If I woke up from another wet dream starring Julian Cattaneo, I was going to go insane. I’d read that one while doing laundry.
I swear my horny ass almost sat on the dryer so it could finish what my naughty mind had started. Needless to say, that was now my favorite mug. And I think the letter he sent today was my favorite letter.
This was one of the informative ones. There were no grand declarations of love or anything. Yet, it made me feel special, more special than any gift or any love confession.
Sweet Stefanie,
I miss you. Now that we’ve gotten the most important part out of the way, here is another important fact about me. I don’t have a favorite side of the bed. Left or right, it doesn’t matter to me. But I do have one requirement when we sleep together.
I need to sleep on the side of the bed closest to the door. Just in case someone breaks in, I’ll be the first thing they see, the first thing they go after. Not you. Never you. I’ll protect you, even when we sleep.
And if I ever fail to protect you, I’ll kill whoever hurt you and then make sure your daughter is protected for life. Once that is done, I’ll join you. Go ahead and say your signature phrase: red flag. But this is the truth! I’m tired of being away from you, Stefanie Adams.
Needing you,
J.C.
Why was I smiling like a fool? This man just said he’d kill someone for me. And I had to believe him. I mean, he was a Cattaneo, after all. And Cattaneos weren’t known for being saints. In fact, many said they were brutal killers.
Plus, it wasn’t like I’d never seen a Cattaneo kill before. I had. But it hadn’t scared me. I’d understood the reason behind the kill. Just like I understood what Julian was saying here. Self-defense and vengeance weren’t the same thing.
But I considered them both good reasons to take a life. Yes, life was precious. But if someone came after me and my family, that meant they no longer valued their life, so why should I? I would definitely kill to protect mine.
Self-defense.
If someone hurt my family, especially that daughter of mine, and thought they were going to get away with it, they were a fucking lie. I would spend the rest of my existence making anyone who hurt my daughter suffer, even if I ended up in prison for it.
Vengeance.
That’s why I wasn’t turned off by this letter, nor was I scared. I grew up in a home with a father who kept a shotgun locked and loaded in case an intruder broke in. I understood that protecting your loved ones was a priority.
And sometimes it meant doing the unthinkable. That’s why Julian’s letter didn’t scare me. That was why I hadn’t forced India to change roommates when I heard she was rooming with a Cattaneo.
Because like the Cattaneos, I was no saint. I understood that sometimes there was a very thin line between a criminal act and justice. What would Julian say if he knew I’d once killed for one of the reasons that made sense to me?
Vengeance.
***
AFEW DAYS LATER...
––––––––
ASTORM WAS COMING. The next few days, I would be spending hours at the news station, helping track storms that were coming through the area. The official start of hurricane season was a month away.
That didn’t mean tornadoes weren’t a threat to our area. The team was already tracking a storm system before I left the house, and the alerts kept coming in.Possible tornado activity. Hail. Power outages.The kind of chaos I’d signed up to manage, at least for another week.
I won’t lie, I thrived under these conditions. This was my element. What I hadn’t expected was to see Hudson the moment I walked in. I stopped at the entrance, confused. The man had no reason to be here. None. It was a storm-tracking morning.
The sun wasn’t even up yet. Yet, there he was, dressed in a fitted polo shirt and khakis like he ran the place, handing out coffee and bagels. My stomach turned. He was holding court near the front desk, laughing with some of the morning crew like he was one of them.
Some of the staff were saying he was in line to take over when Mark retired. I didn’t believe that, but with men like him, money could make damn near anything possible. Whether he was qualified or not didn’t always matter when a man with power wanted something.
I didn’t slow down. Didn’t greet him. Didn’t acknowledge him. I kept walking to the breakroom. All I wanted was caffeine. Strong, black, and hot. I was hoping to be in and out in under five minutes, but that was too much to ask for.
The damn coffee machine had a ‘Broken’sign taped to it. I knew that handwriting.Hudson’s.Fuck my life! I glanced at the breakroom table. There were two large trays of bagels and three carriers of coffee from that overpriced spot downtown.
Of course, one of the cups had my name on it. I didn’t have to sniff it to know it was a peppermint mocha. I could smell the sweet scent that I craved during the winter months. But during the summer, I preferred salted caramel.
