Page 141 of Cain
I lean back against the wood and fold my arms.
“I’ve left everything to you,” I say. “If I die, it’s all yours.”
“No.”
She shakes her head, but I keep going.
“The lawyer and the notary public are on their way. You’ll take the companies. Do whatever the hell you want with them.”
“No way! This is wrong!” She shoots up from the chair, her eyes darting wildly around. “Why are you saying this? Are you sick?”
“No.”
“Then why the hell are you suddenly talking about death?” she snaps.
“Because I have enemies in places you can’t even imagine, and I need to know you’re protected if one of them finally gets lucky.”
My eyes remain on hers, watching her come undone—my poor little rose.
Shestares at me like I’ve lost it. “Do you even hear yourself right now?”
“Katerina,” I say slower. “Calm down and cooperate. All you have to do is say yes. That’s it. Just agree.”
“Agree with what? That I should take all your things like you’re already dead?” She’s trembling, and her voice is cracking. “I don’t want your money!”
Her face flushes red as her feline eyes brim with tears she refuses to let fall.
“That’s all I can give you. That and my protection while I’m still here.”
“You’re talking like you’re already gone.”
“I have to think ten steps ahead.”
“Thenthink, you idiot! Think really hard.” She steps closer, her eyes locked on mine. “Tell me how I’ll be without you. Huh?”
I freeze. “What?”
“If you’re so fucking good at planning, tell me how I’m supposed to live when you disappear.” A tear finally breaks loose, but she doesn’t wipe it. “You kidnapped me! You held me against my will like I was an animal, and now you want to play protector? The fucking savior?”
I can’t help but smile at her.
She hits me on my chest, but I don’t react. “No. You don’t get to vanish and pretend it’s mercy, Cain!”
She hits me again.
“You owe me! You fucking owe me, and you will stay with me!”
“Hey,” I say, reaching for her.
“You can’t leave me!” She finally breaks into tears.
Fuck …
I grab her and pull her into my arms. Her breathing is erratic and shallow.
“I don’t need your money,” she sobs, her voice muffled against my shirt. “I needyou.”
My heart skips a beat at the sound of it—her voice, my name, whatever spell she’s casting without even knowing.
