Page 40 of Twisted Enemy
I know I should let this pass. Make some excuse to the Andersons. I should laugh about alover’s quarreland kiss Kate on the cheek, then sit down to a hearty dinner and family chitchat.
But Kate was doing her level best to cost me everything. So once the Andersons are gone, I step close enough to whisper, “What the fuck did you tell her?”
“Nothing!”
“Youhaven’t been up front withher?”
“I just wanted to straighten out a few lies.”
“Which ones did you have in mind?”
After a moment, she takes the easy route. “I never should have said I work for the school district. It’s too close to their jobs. Mrs. A hates retirement enough she might decide to join me up in Baltimore.”
“Fine,” I say, even though it isn’t. Nothing about this is fine. Not the prickly challenge Kate issued in the car—Go on. I’ll wait out here.And not the dangerous truth she was about to tell Linda Anderson. I shove more aggression into my voice than I should. “So what’s the new story? Where do youactuallywork?”
Her face clouds. She hasn’t thought this through. She was on the verge of ruining everything, and she doesn’t even have a fucking plan. “I work for my da,” she finally says.
“In construction,” I say, because that’s the half-truth she told the Andersons about her father last month.
She grimaces. “Yeah. Construction.”
“What buildings has he worked on?” I do my best to sound engaged, mimicking Mrs. A, making a guest feel at home. “Anything I might have seen?”
“The convention center,” Kate snaps.
“The big one? Downtown?”
“Yeah.”
“Is it true what they say?” I’m still channeling Mrs. A. “Are there reallygangsterson those jobs? I mean, I’ve seen things on TV. Do you feel safe?”
“Of course I feel safe. I’m working for my father.”
“I’m just a bit confused.” My version of Mrs. A sounds upset. I need Kate to understand the monstrous stupidity of what she’s trying to do. Of what it would cost me if she succeeded. “Why did you lie about working for the school district?”
“She wouldn’t ask that,” Kate snaps.
“She might. Or she might ask, if you lied about where you worked, did you lie about where the two of us met? Did you lie about how long we’ve known each other? Whendidwe get married? Have I been hiding you for years? What else has Cole kept secret from us?”
“Stop it!” Kate hisses.
I’ve leaned into her as each question drew closer to my own sin. Now she’s crowded against the counter, trapped between the breadbox and the refrigerator. My fingers tremble against the base of her skull.
She barks, “You’re hurting me!”
I back three steps away, so disgusted with myself I have to swallow bile.
Right there, just now, I wasn’t a Dom, measuring out pain with perfect control. I was a man so angry he couldn’t manage his gut-punch reactions. I was a coward, so afraid he couldn’t see past the next three seconds.
Tarasov, Lynch, blackmail, building the fucking Money Box—they’ve all taken a toll on my tightly wrapped command. But in the end, all of that is just money. It doesn’t matter—not like people do.
The Andersons have been the most important people in my life for years. They matter. They’re the reason I almost hurt Kate in a way she could never forgive.
I swallow hard before I blow out one harsh breath. “Fix this,” I say, because it’s easier to tell her what to do than to think about the fucking mistake I nearly made.
“Or what?” she demands, setting her hands on her hips. I recognize the fire flushing her cheeks. This is the old Kate, the feral creature who threw a glass of wine in my face in front of a crowd of strangers. She doesn’t care what anything will cost her. She just refuses to be controlled, to do anything against her will.
“Or we’re done.”
