Paradise Found: Cain (Paradise Stories Book 2) (7 page)

“You don’t have to tell me these things,” I said softly, reassuring her that there was no need to overshare. I sympathized with her, but I wasn’t going to lose my heart to Cain again. A foolish woman tempted in the garden; once bitten, I needed to be twice shy. The Cobra left a lasting sting.

“I think I do. I can see that look in your eyes. You’re conflicted. If I thought he was in love with you, I’d say run to him, but I don’t trust men in the industry, except maybe Abel. He might be the exception.” She smiled. “But the rest of them? Run in the opposite direction, Sofie, run as fast as you can.” Her hand gripped my arm in urgency and I winced at the pinch. Her voice was desperate, warning me against a danger I had already tasted.

I laughed bitterly. “I don’t think I’ll need to run far. He never comes after me.”

To my utter surprise, someone was seated outside my apartment door. Slumped against it with his back, elbows braced on his knees, the figure sat with his head in his hands.

“Cain?”

He looked up at me with an extra edge to his chiseled face. He pulled off brooding and intimidating well, but I wasn’t afraid of him. Oddly, I never had been, despite the size of his arms and the power I’d seen him use against his own brother. Physically, he didn’t frighten me; emotionally, I was scared out of my mind.

He stared at me for a moment, as I stood before him. Dark eyes searched my face with trepidation. Uncertainty soon passed. One hand on the floor pushed him upward and muscles under his short sleeves flexed. The quick rise to his full height appeared effortless. He made standing slowly look like an art. Suddenly, his imposing body filled my vision and my personal space. He blocked the entrance to my apartment as he leaned forward.

“You didn’t wait for me?” The audacity of his question made me wonder:
What was I supposed to wait for?

Attempting to ignore him, I reached around his large chest for my door handle. My keys were propped and ready to unlock my space, but he leaned back trapping my arm against the wood plank, pinning me to it with his side. He crossed his arms as he continued to glare at me.

“Do you think I’m playing a game, Sofie? If I ask you to stay, you need to listen.”

My first response was to tell him I wasn’t some dog, although I felt like I’d been kicked. Looking up at him, the words froze on my lips. His dark orbs, usually hinting at danger, gleamed with a warning of something else.

“Why don’t you come in?” I gestured with my head toward the door, and he instantly stepped back, releasing my arm. He opened his mouth, as if he had a comment to make then clamped his lips tight, twisting them in a way I remembered. He was thinking.

He reached for my suitcase, and I removed my hand quickly so we wouldn’t risk touching each other. Carrying it for me, he followed me into my apartment. I lived in a complex filled with studios and one-bedrooms. The rent was cheap, cheaper than the dorms, and I didn’t mind being alone. The place actually had three rooms, two of which were divided by a set of French doors. The layout appeared like someone forgot to include a bedroom, so my bed was actually off the kitchen, in what would be considered a dining room. The glass doors separated that space from the living room where we stood. The meager bathroom was off this room. It was as if an architect pieced the space together, but I loved the cozy comfort of the place. Hardwood floors and extra tall windows made the rooms feel spacious.

Cain’s presence filled that intimate space. It seemed small with him in it, and I suddenly had a flash of his room at my grandparents’ inn. All the guest rooms were luxurious, with a large bed and a sitting area, making the space feel comforting and welcoming. When we had been there together, the room rotated between an island of distress and a garden of seduction. My own home suddenly felt like a cardboard box filled with a homeless soul. My single couch and large area rug were all that normally graced this room, besides my books, laptop, and a scattering of notes.

I decided to fill the silence with another issue.

“So I’ve been thinking about the divorce papers, and I’m not certain how to proceed? Do I get a lawyer? Which sounds stupid because I don’t own anything that you want, and I certainly don’t want anything from you. Do I need to find the papers at the inn or can a second set be sent to me?”

Cain stared at me, as if he didn’t understand the basic English language. I had been rambling; my words coming out too fast and too close together, but his blank look had me worried he hadn’t heard me. Then his eyebrows pinched and he uncrossed his thick arms that had been shielding his chest. He had a new tattoo, I noticed.
I am my brother’s keeper.
I didn’t know enough of his story with Abel. I couldn’t imagine he felt responsible for anyone but himself.

“I already have a lawyer. He can handle everything,” he finally spoke, his voice rough.

“I promise I don’t want anything from you,” I said, my voice shaking. For all my bravado, I suddenly had a sinking sensation of sorrow as Cain glared at me. I tried to be subtle as I took a breath to calm my racing heart. He was standing too close to me. I needed to step back, but the only place to go was down onto the couch. I couldn’t let his presence stand any taller over me than he already was, so I clenched my hands together, wringing them as I willed him to leave.

Something caught his attention and he turned to look toward the windows. The long white sheer curtains, that I used to soften the tall lines of the glass panes, fluttered in the breeze. I’d left the window open before I went to Vegas, I guess. On the third floor, without a fire escape outside that window, I hadn’t been concerned. Cain obviously was.

“Did someone break in here?” he stated, taking note of the items scattered here and there. Books were piled high, but papers skittered across the floor, in what had to have been the breeze. A collection of pens and markers lay haphazard around my notes. A sweatshirt was draped over the arm of the couch. A rumpled blanket covered the cushions and a bed pillow sat crooked on the edge.

He passed me quickly and entered my bedroom through the open French doors. His eyes focused on my double bed. It was positioned on an angle, which cut the room even smaller, but I liked the unconventional statement. It was my personal rebellion to not have it straight against the wall. I had a sudden image of him in it, then realized he’d never fit. He was too large. Plus, he wouldn’t want to be there anyway. It was only partially made. Three pillows were askew. The floral duvet I’d simply pulled up in my haste on Friday night to leave for the fight.

Up until the last minute, I wasn’t certain I was going to go. Aware of the fight from the continued rumors at school, I didn’t wish to witness such mayhem. Abel Callahan, Betta, was fighting his older brother, Cain, the Cobra. Abel had mentioned it, but the information I had from him was minimal. He didn’t seem to want to talk about it with me. I had no idea if Cain and Abel were close, or not, as brothers. As a teacher’s assistant for Abel’s human anatomy class, we spoke more about the class, his final research project, or just lighthearted banter about Preston than anything else.

At the last minute, Lucie was the one who talked me into going. Assured of a place to stay at the Belfast Casino Resort, I only needed the plane ticket. On a college student’s budget, that was a luxury I couldn’t afford, but when one was mysteriously messengered to me, I took it as a sign to attend. We didn’t need tickets to the fight, as Lindee had secured four, from her parents’ connections.

Taking in the messy surroundings, I felt the need to clarify.

“I was in a rush on Friday.”

He spun to face me, waiting out an answer.

“I didn’t think I was going to the fight.” I swallowed hard at the way he visually questioned me. His eyes had softened in the minutes he’d been here. The tension of his face loosening to remind me of the playful Cain, who stood in a cold river with me last summer, then kissed me in a way I’d never been kissed. Pure devil and glorious sin were in that kiss, and every one he’d given me before and after. My mouth watered for a taste of him again. The feel of his dangerous tongue in my mouth; it would be too much. I’d give into him like I had so quickly done before.

“What changed your mind?” he asked. His eyebrow twitched like he was preventing it from rising in question. I hated that I noticed each tick and twist of his facial expressions.

“I was able to get a cheap plane ticket last minute,” I lied, and something in his face told me he didn’t believe me.

“Interesting,” he said, drawing his hand up to his chin. His fingers softly scraped over his jaw and the stubble made a scratching sound. Instantly, I recalled how that stubble felt on my skin, under my fingertips, up my thighs and along my breasts. My lower body clenched and I had to look away from the teasing gleam. Once ensnared by those dark circles of temptation, I’d be a pawn to his play.

“You should close your windows when you aren’t home, and keep them locked when you are.” His words had taken a tone of seriousness.

“Why?” I laughed in reply to his overprotective demeanor.

“You never know what dangers lurk in the dark.” His voice was deep, rough, like sand swirled on glass. I swallowed again at the hypnotic glare of his eyes.

“There are dangers even under bright sunlight, too,” I whispered. His eyes blinked. It was a reference to our day in the garden: a sliver of space on my grandparents’ property that held a cool river, a small shady spot, and a memory of a summer afternoon.

His eyes narrowed, and in two steps, he walked around me to my living room. I exhaled deeply with relief. Proud I’d held my ground; I was grateful we had moved away from the bed. I spun to find him looking thoughtfully out a window near the couch.

“Was it bad for you? That day. Did you hate it? Me?”

His voice had taken on a timbre of sadness as his hands slipped into his pockets. He didn’t look as hard, standing like that. He looked innocent, young, and reflective. The silence between us lingered like the breeze coming through the window. My heart dropped in my chest. I had a sudden desire to comfort him, until he swung to look at me. The edge to his face had returned.

“I’ll have a new copy of the papers drawn up. I’d like to offer some financial compensation for your troubles, and your silence. I don’t need the press knowing of this mess.” He removed his hands from his pockets and rubbed one over his scalp, skimming his black hair. The same hand then scrubbed down his face and he shook his head. Without another word, he crossed the short distance to my door. My heart raced. I panicked.

“Cain?” I called softly. “Why are you here?”

He didn’t turn to look at me, but he didn’t continue to walk out the door. His hand rested on the knob, his forehead lowered to the wood.

“This could have all been handled by email. Why are you in California?” I questioned.

We’d both been in Las Vegas hours ago. I didn’t know how he beat me here, other than the fact that traveling by air does take time. His home was in Vegas, though. His lawyers could have handled everything he wanted done from there.

His head slowly rose from the door. His back muscles flexed as he turned the knob.

“Because my wife lives here,” he said roughly then walked out without further explanation.

I’d driven like the devil out of hell, pushing past the penance of a desert into the rolling hills, then the mountains that dipped to the Silicon Valley of Preston University. I knew where Sofie lived with the help of Abel and a private investigator. Hopeful I’d find her at her home, I did; only I didn’t know what to say once she arrived. Did I expect her to jump into my arms and beg for us to stay married? That would have been foolish. I couldn’t be married. It was too much of a scandal. It was too much of a risk. If my father found out about Sofie, he’d try to destroy her like he tried to ruin Elma for Abel. A bitter man over the loss of his first love, he wasn’t willing to let others love without bearing pain. Love hurts, he reasoned when I was still a child. Better to learn that when you are young, he clarified while I was still a boy. I didn’t even understand what love was. I’d never heard the words without the harshness of physical pain accompanying it.