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Corbin pops one of the cups out, turning to me. He hands it over, giving me the ‘look’. I’ve decided to call his signature smile the “Governor Special.”
Corbin’s mask isn’t like Saoirse’s. His is made up of charm and humor, and since yesterday when we tortured a man together, I’ve gathered that he used that charm with his good looks to get elected.
Deep down he’s probably numb and emotionless. Those types of men are the scariest. They don’t know where the persona ends and the real them begins. Saoirse needs to call this off. Now.
I still haven’t taken the coffee, so Corbin sets it down.
“Got you a blueberry latte, honey. With almond milk,” he says, handing her the second cup.
“Sounds different,” Saoirse says. She takes a sip, then closes her eyes and lets out a soft moan. “Mmm. It’s delicious, thank you.”
My gaze falls to her hands, that hideous diamond attached to her ring finger. I catch my breathing becoming unsteady again. When had she put it back on? It wasn’t there this morning when I brought her into work.
Had she picked him? After she told me last night she chose me?
I drag a hand through my hair. How could I have been so fucking dumb, to believe her? Our emotions were running high last night, and clearly she hadn’t meant what she said in the car.
Guilt eats away at me, gnawing at my gut. I was an accomplice in her cheating last night. I allowed it to happen, thinking it would be the start of us. Clearly she’s still angry with me for what I’ve done in the past.
And who can blame her? I walked away. I got scared that tying her to me would be too heartbreaking, and I created distance between us, when I should have made her stay after the shooting.
My throat tightens. I need to get out of here, now.
“If you need me, I’ll be outside,” I say.
“Wait, before you go,” Corbin says, digging into the bag. He pulls out a wrapped bagel and hands it to me.
“Not hungry,” I mumble, refusing to take the food from him.
Thefrontdoorofthe apartment is left unlocked, and I make a note to yell at Finn later. Dude is security for the Mob and leaves our fucking house unlocked? My jaw ticks as I step inside. Saoirse is behind me, rambling on about the ring she placed back on her finger.
I don’t want to talk about it, because it’s going to lead to me fucking her into submission and ripping that hideous thing off her hand. She’ll marry him over my dead body. And I’m not ready to have that discussion with her.
How am I supposed to tell her that a man who believes he can be the future President of the United States isn’t good enough for her? That I want her, when I’m just a lowlife Mafia grunt?
“Jaime,” Saoirse sighs.
I groan, taking in the cluttered state of the apartment. On a good day, there are books scattered about. On a bad day, it’s a typical bachelor pad. And by bad day, I mean when I’m not here to make Finn clean up after himself. It’s been four days since I’ve been in the apartment, and I turn my head to catch sight of the kitchen.
It’s empty, despite my lack of presence here. I scrunch my brows, then head for the kitchen sink. Beneath it is all of Frog’s food. I grab one of the boxes left stacked by the fridge and fill it with cans of food.
“Jaime. Please, listen to me,” Saoirse says from behind me.
I ignore her, continuing to pack things up. She takes my silence as an invitation to continue.
“Vladimir has a price on my head. Right? Is that what the mobsters say?” She pauses for a second, and I know if I turn around, I’d catch her shaking her head, trying to come up with the answer herself. “Whatever. Anyway, I don’t see you getting down on one knee and asking.”
“That’s what you want?” I ask, whipping my head around to glare at her. “A marriage of convenience? Not one of love? Then go be with Vladimir Vasiliev, Saoirse.”
“You’re twisting my words, Jameson.”
“You want me to marry you, so you don’t have to marry some Russian twat.”
“No. I’m saying that marrying Corbin will stop this. I’m saying you don’t have to.”
I stride toward her, letting my anger get the best of me. Her eyes widen, and she takes a step back. Her throat bobs as she gulps, and I know she senses the internal fury I’ve got bottled up inside of me. Her ass hits a wall, and she peers up at me while I hover over her.
“Does he know what we did last night?” I ask, my voice rough. “Does he know his fiancé was grinding her pussy against another man’s cock in the parking lot of the restaurant he dined in with her just moments before?”
