Page 30 of Carter

“What am I doing?” I ask. My heart is beating hard against my ribs.

“Stop with your hair. Be still and listen to what I have to say to you.”

My hand drops to my lap.

I’ve heard whispers in the Village that he’s the strictest of the husbands. I can picture it. Chills run down my spine.

He drives up to the first gate, the one behind the bakery he and Mary own. We pull through. Then we pass the second gate. We’re on the street. He pulls out into traffic, gunning the engine and taking off.

I watch the street signs pass. I wait for him to speak.

Finally, he says, “There’s something you don’t know about Carter.”

I shift in my seat. “What’s that?” I ask.

“He’s my brother. All Bachman men are to consider one another brothers, so Carter and I don’t bring it up, but we are related. By blood,” he says.

“Oh.” Carter doesn’t talk about his past family much. Most Bachmans don’t. My words sound dumb in my ears, as I say, “That’s nice.”

He gives me that look.

My stomach turns to ice. I’ve no doubt—he’s the strict one.

His voice is smooth as he navigates the streets. “When Carter first met you, Sasha, he’d come undone. I’ve never seen a man so in love, other than myself when I’d met Mary. I was so happy for him—so excited to meet you. Then I did.”

I don’t like where this is going. My hand is on the arm of his door. I dig my fingernail into it. When I lift it, there’s a small indention in the smooth leather. Making a tiny crescent-shaped rebellion.

He says, “I knew immediately, Carter wasn’t going to be able to handle you.” Our turn comes, and he takes it too fast, but the sleek black car handles the curve.

My blood boils. “He doesn’t need to handle me⁠—”

“Be. Quiet.”

My words stick in my throat. I reach for my ponytail, then remember and drop my hand.

“There’s a good girl.” His words make me feel queer. Somewhere caught between anger and wanting to please. He continues, “As I was saying, Carter is my younger brother. I love him very much. I’ll do anything for him. Anything.”

My stomach is sinking. Sweat breaks out over my forehead.

Anything?

As in, get rid of me? Make Carter’s little problem go away so he can move on. Get the right girl? One that would make a better wife for this precious family?

My hand goes to the handle of the door. I look up at the streetlight, hoping it turns red.

He catches the corner of my eye. His gaze is cutting, dangerous. “Take your hand down from that door, or I swear on my life I will pull this car over and spank your ass right over the hood of this car. For all of New York to see.”

My hand hovers. I think I might prefer murder to him following through with his threat. I decide to fold my hands neatly in my lap.

“You are a quick learner, aren’t you?” he says.

I want to roll my eyes. But I’m looking over that shiny black hood in front of me, picturing my ass perched over it. I know he would have no problem doing what he says. I play nice.

I retort, “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I was such a pain.”

“Don’t be sassy. That will also earn you a trip over my hood.” He turns another corner.

I swallow hard. I ask, “What would your brother say? About you spanking his fiancée?”