“This is ridiculous,” her father bit out. “I have guests.”
Throwing one more glare at her, he stormed out of the library, the door closing with a heavy click. Silence vibrated in the room, so dense, she swore it pressed against her skin. Anger still clung to Cain, but it didn’t alarm or frighten her. His outrage was on her behalf, not directed at her.
When was the last time someone had leaped to her defense? Had sought to protect instead of use her? For the second time in as many minutes, she shied away from answers she would regret.
“Has he ever put his hands on you?” Cain ground out, his predator eyes blazing bright.
“No,” she whispered. Then clearing her throat, she shook her head for added emphasis. “No, he wouldn’t do that. Whatever your opinion of him, he’s never been physically abusive.”
Being emotionally neglectful was another matter.
“You’re not lying to me, are you, Devon?” he pressed, his gaze searching her face. She fought not to squirm under its inspection. “You’re not just trying to protect him?”
Irritation surged within her, but something—call it intuition—suppressed the flash of impatience. Beneath the rigid lines of his face and the growl in his voice lurked...worry? No. It was deeper than that. More...visceral. It was darker. Her heart knocked against her sternum as a completely absurd thought crept into her head, twisted her belly.
Had Barron Farrell hurt Cain?
As soon as the thought flickered through her mind, she slapped it down. Impossible. God no. She had no proof of that whatsoever. In an insular ecosystem such as Boston society, surely she would’ve heard some kind of rumor.
You just don’t want to imagine it’s possible.
An image of a younger Cain shrinking away from a larger, malevolent figure shot inside her head before she could stop it. Cain in pain, scared, victimized... She clenched her fingers into fists, the sudden, fierce longing to strike out against that figure so strong, so intense, a tremble shivered through her.
But in the next instant, she silently ordered herself to calm down, to get it together. Cain had walked in on an argument between her and her father. Yes, his assumption had been wrong, but objectively she could understand why he’d come to that conclusion. None of that meant he was a victim of abuse himself.
Given her overactive imagination, maybe she needed to start writing fantasy novels.
“No, I’m not covering for him,” she finally replied. “Cain, I promise you. I wouldn’t lie to you about that.”
He stared at her for several more moments before nodding, the movement stiff.
“What were you arguing about?” he demanded.
The truth pushed at her throat, but that loyalty her father accused her of not having shoved back. If she told Cain about her father’s request, he would see it as another attempt to manipulate him, to extort him. Gregory held something over Cain, but the billionaire reminded her of a prowling beast, waiting for just the right opening to leap and devour. She refused to be the conduit for that opportunity. Gregory might not value prudence when it came to this man, but she did. And if she had to save her father from himself, then so be it.
But speaking of the something Gregory held over Cain...
She moved toward him even though every primal instinct shouted she should maintain a safe distance. Still, she didn’t stop until only inches separated them, and she had to tilt her head back to peer up into his face. His earthy, woodsy scent filled her nose. His heat called out to her, enticed her to share it. Briefly, she closed her eyes, combatting the lure that washim.
“You said my father threatened your mother’s reputation. What did you mean?” she asked, fairly certain he wouldn’t grant her the truth. Since he believed her to be her father’s accomplice, he probably assumed she knew and was engaging in a coy game.
He didn’t reply, but stared down at her, ice chilling his eyes. She read the “fuck you” there before he uttered it.
But he didn’t utter it.
“Your father and my mother had an affair several years ago. My parents’ marriage was not a happy one. Since I was old enough to understand what their arguments meant, I knew Barron was unfaithful. When your father arrived at my office to tell me about the affair, I didn’t judge her. She just made the mistake of having an affair with the wrong man.”
He calls his father by his first name.
The words swirled in her head.
“Apparently, before Barron died, Gregory went to him with evidence of his affair with Mom. Videos, pictures, texts, emails. To keep it from going public, no doubt so he didn’t look like a fool who couldn’t satisfy his wife,” Cain sneered, disgust dripping from his tone, “Barron signed a contract with your father. The terms were simple—Gregory remained quiet about the affair and agreed not to release any of his evidence to the press and my father would hand me over.”
Oh God.She splayed her hand over her rapidly pounding heart. There was only one place for this to head. One. And part of her couldn’t stand to hear it. The filthy by association part.
“The week after Barron’s funeral, your father showed up with his contract, demanding I honor it, or he would ensure every trash tabloid and gossip site received those pictures, videos and texts. I either marry his daughter or sit by and watch my mother’s reputation be ripped apart click by click, view by view. So, I agreed.”
She gasped—disbelief, repulsion and pain struck her like tiny fists. White noise exploded in her head and bile scorched a path toward her throat. How could her father do that? How could he use Cain’smotheras a bargaining chip? Would he have been so quick to do the same to her own mother? To his wife? Where did his boundaries lie? Or had greed and ambition obliterated all lines?
