My jaw tightened.
She yanked her arm back and narrowed her eyes at me. "I know that you think that you rule me, own me, that you can destroy me. But I’m not scared. I'm not going to be pushed around by you or your staff. And I am not going to be touched by anyone without my permission." She spewed her words out like hot lava. Her eyes, aflame with rage, burnt my skin everywhere they landed.
I took one leisurely step in her direction, every inch of my body itching with the need to launch at Connor and smash his skull on the granite tiles. I brushed my knuckles against her bruised skin.
She jerked away and hissed like a snake. “That includes you, Troy.”
So Red didn't mind riding my face like a cowgirl, but still had trouble letting me touch her in front of Connor and Maria. I was beginning to see a little bit of me in her.
"Go upstairs and pack a bag," I ordered, pretending that it didn't sting when she rejected me in front of my two employees.
Maria grinned, getting her money’s worth, and turned on her heel, back to the kitchen sink.
"I’m not going anywhere. Not until you tell me why, when, where and how,” Sparrow demanded. “Oh, and FYI, I don't even have your phone number. No driver’s license either, so good luck with getting me on that plane. Guess it’s not as easy as you think, bossing me around. You should've really thought about it before..."
She was rambling, and I wanted to press my index finger to her lips and shut her up. But I knew better than to try touching her again. Instead, I raised my hand to cut through her stream of babbling.
“This is the last time I’m going to ask nicely. Go upstairs and pack your shit, understood?”
She stopped talking, her eyebrows flying up in outrage, flipped me the finger, and turned around and climbed upstairs. It was only when I heard her slamming drawers in the bedroom, no doubt to make a point, that I realized how worried I was that she wouldn’t do as I said. Red had fight in her. She was the kind of woman to lead a revolution, not to be kept in a luxury penthouse with a cheating husband.
I was clipping her wings, and I knew it.
Squinting at Connor and feeling the familiar eye-twitch I got every time I wanted to yank someone’s heart out of their chest, I turned my whole body to face him. Up until Sparrow, he was my part-time muscle guy when I required one. He received clear instructions and was paid to act, not to think.
Shortly before we got married, I’d hired him full time to keep an eye on my new wife. Honestly, Connor wasn’t there to keep her safe—no one would go after her. I wasn’t in the mob and even if I were, the underworld didn’t involve wives and children when retaliation was needed. I kept Connor on her tail because I didn’t want her to run away and fuck up everything I’d worked hard to achieve. To make sure I always knew her whereabouts. She was safe without him, but I didn’t want her to know that.
I wanted her small and scared.
What I hadn't taken into consideration was the fact that like most muscle guys, Connor had very little brain to accompany his impressive size. And so, by trying to protect our fake marriage, I’d paired her with an idiot who hurt her.
"Boss…" Connor lifted one sweaty, trembling palm. His face looked like a ball of wrinkled paper, his glistening eyes begging for forgiveness.
I had none to spare. Connor now raised both hands up in surrender, walking backward while I strode toward him until his back hit the wall. His head banged against the polished concrete with a thud.
He was too scared to notice. "You wanted her to get here as soon as possible, and she was stalling on purpose. Then she tried to run away. I had no other option."
“When you poke a bear, Connor…” My voice was low, smooth and threatening. “Prepare to be bitten.”
Stepping into his face, I curled my fingers around his neck and pinned his head to the wall. I squeezed his throat experimentally, watching his eyes bug out, pain and horror dripping from them. I wanted to leave him marked like he left his dirty fingers all over Sparrow’s arm.
"Come near my wife again,” I said, “and I'll show the world just how much of an angry motherfucker I can really be when someone touches what's mine."
"Boss," he gurgled, blood flooding his face and mapping it with little red veins. Sweat dotted his forehead. "Please, I'll never touch her again, no matter what. I wasn't thinking—"
"That much is true." I squeezed harder, not easing the pressure until his cheeks doubled in size and became unmistakably blue. I let him drop to the floor.
He landed with a bang, collapsing like a Jenga tower. His arms shielded his head and body, like he didn’t know where the next blow was going to land. I looked down at him disgusted, a worm I was tempted to squash.
He crawled away, across the room, afraid to look up at me. “I’ll apologize,” he whimpered into his chest, still crawling his way in the opposite direction.
“Don’t,” I spat. “Don’t fucking go anywhere near her ever again.”
I left him to collect what was left of his self-esteem from the floor and climbed upstairs, finding Sparrow sitting on the edge of the bed, staring out the vast window. She didn't look up when I came in, just continued studying whatever it is she was fixated on outside. The sky? The tall buildings? A bird? Who the hell knew?
Her face was wrinkled in concentration, and the thought of Catalina being right about her hit me hard. She
was
a fucking kid. She sure looked like one now. She was a kid, and I ate her pussy without even blinking. What’s more, I surprisingly enjoyed her sleek little body, and I knew I’d do it all over again the next time I got the chance. Eat her, fuck her, lick her, toes to skull, and ride her in every fucking position until every bone in her body hurt.
She was a kid, and I still wanted to do very grown-up things to her.
“This is the weirdest summer ever,” she pondered aloud. “The sunshine today is a lie. The sun’s out, but it’s still cold. Sunshine,” she repeated, “but a lie.”
“Lies are what keeps this world running, baby Red.” I took a step closer. She was so sweet. So fucking weird, too.
"Why does it smell funny in here?" she asked dully, her forehead crumpling.
Of course, the room reeked of sex, but she couldn’t put the finger on that. Good thing I’d planned ahead and kept her sheltered from other men. I didn’t have time to chase all the dickheads who wanted to touch her and rip their heads off.
"He'll never touch you again." I dodged her question, taking a seat on the bed next to her. So many people had touched Sparrow without her permission. Connor. Paddy.
Even I fucked around with her on the night of our wedding. Sure, she wanted it, but I gave her an unnecessary push, because she wasn’t really ready for me, hence her attempt to show me she was on her period.
The mattress sank under my weight, and I noticed my wife was so short, her feet were still dangling off the floor. She kept her hands tucked between her thighs and didn’t look at me, still staring ahead.
"Listen, Red. It’s not okay by me when people touch you against you will. Not Connor. Not me. Not anyone."
“Fire him,” she ordered simply. Under any other circumstances, I would have laughed or scared the shit out of her, but at that moment, when the lingering smell of my infidelity still hung in the air, I couldn’t. Even I had to draw a line somewhere.
“I need you protected,” I argued.
“I’m a big girl, and last time I checked, he was the one with a bruised face and asthma attack after our encounter.”
“Fine,” I agreed, but not easily. My lips twisted. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to scowl or smile. “Consider Connor gone.” I fished my phone out of my pocket and punched it with my thumb, placing it over my ear. "Calling you so you'll have my number. Happy?"
"Never with you.” Her face was neutral, void of feelings when her ring tone sounded in her purse.
I hated that look. It was the look she gave me before I hired her. Before I went down on her. Before I thought she’d cracked.
You’re a tough nut, Red.
“So what's that smell?" she repeated. "And where's that dress Maria gave me?"
"I took care of it for you. Thank me later."
Her hooded eyes told me she was not expecting any favors from me.
"Have you packed, or are you in the mood for testing my patience again?" I tried claiming some of my bite back.
"Already told you, I don't have a driver’s license. Not a passport. Not even a library card. Nothing. I can’t get through airport security."
I stood up and swung aside the painting of a nude that hid my safe. I pressed my thumb against the biometric pad and retrieved her brand new passport. I tossed it to her, and she opened it, staring inside the pages wide-eyed. It had a picture of her, a recent one, and it was legit. If possible, she looked even sadder.
“I would have gotten you a license, too, but I don’t trust you behind the wheel, what with your temper.”
“Really?” she sniffed, peering past me at the open safe. “The Department of State is on your payroll, too?”
“Even God can be bought for the right price.” I slammed and locked the safe, hoping she wouldn’t freak out at all the cash I kept there. You never knew when you might have to make a run for it.
She began to pace, not unlike a caged animal. “This is wrong. You can’t just get a passport for me without my permission. I’m not a child.”
"Look, you don’t have to be such a pain about it. It's a fucking honeymoon, okay? We'll spend a few days in Miami, do some shopping, wolf down some Cuban sandwiches and Key lime pie, suffer mild sunburn and get our asses back to Boston before you know it. Now pack."
She stopped her stalking, her feet rooted to the ground as she waved her clenched fist at me. "You plan to drag me on a plane without prior notice like I’m a Chihuahua you can fit into a handbag and you expect me to just pack? What if I have plans for the week?"
"Postpone them." I was losing my patience. The Paddy Rowan business was so much more important than girl-time with her friends.
"And what if I don't want to?" She crossed her arms over her chest, jutting one hip forward, challenging.
"Christ." I closed my eyes, trying to control the impending arrival of another twitch.
Was this what marriage felt like? I was starting to seriously consider giving up the assets and money my father had left me. Any other woman would probably jump up and down with joy to hear I was taking her on a honeymoon, housing her in a luxury suite and shoving a credit card in her hand. Sparrow? She acted like I was going to kidnap her and deliver her straight into the arms of ISIS. Frankly, I wouldn’t be surprised if they, too, found themselves struggling to contain the wrath of this girl.
Red walked to the corner where Cat and I fucked, and my stomach knotted. She stared at the exact spot where Cat banged her head against the wall. There was a trail of makeup right underneath my Yoskay Yamamoto painting. My heart picked up speed. Why did I care? This marriage meant nothing to me. I shouldn't give a damn if she found out.
She blinked slowly, turning her gaze back to me, and serenely asked, "Was this really necessary?"
She knew.
I hitched one shoulder up.
Red chuckled bitterly, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, like she was gathering strength for her next sentence. Despite everything, she didn’t lose her shit. It made me eerily proud of her. When she’d stood before me and repeated her vows, I’d imagined the girl I married would break in no time. Little did I know that Sparrow possessed the same quality I had when it came to people: For the most part? She didn’t. Fucking. Care.
I changed my mind. Cat was wrong. She was not a kid—she was a woman who refused to turn a blind eye when it came to her husband’s infidelities. She was more of a woman than my mom and Cat, combined.
"If you can afford a Maserati and a penthouse the size of a medium-sized island, you can also afford a nice hotel room downtown. This…” She pointed at the wall - was she able to detect Cat’s sweet, unbearable fragrance? - “Is the last time it happens under the roof where I live. God, I can’t believe I messed around with you. I feel so filthy."
There wasn't anger in her voice. I was so used to crazy-ass women tailing me around, begging for what Sparrow had carelessly rejected, I was almost disappointed with her reaction.
But I just leaned toward her, my posture relaxed. "If I tried to take you right now on the floor, you would do it all over again. You can run. Run all the way across the country, but you can’t run away from your mind. And Sparrow, my little birdie…” I flashed her a confident smile. “I’m deep in your head, and you know it. Now, pack."
She tipped her chin up, marching straight to the walk-in closet, and disappeared between the vast, dark-oak shelves.
“You need a suitcase?” I got up from the bed.
“I’ll find one myself,” she snapped from the depths. “Meet you downstairs.”
Hesitating only for a moment, I turned around and headed for the living room. Fuck it, I wasn’t a gentleman, and if she wanted to handle a heavy suitcase, I really wasn’t going to argue with her.
It wasn't until I walked into the kitchen and saw Connor's head under the running tap as he gasped for air, crying like a goddamned baby, that I realized that I’d just had my ass handed to me on a plate by a twenty-two-year-old virgin.
She didn’t even give me a side of ketchup.
Just sent me to the fucking naughty spot.
I narrowed my eyes on the sturdy man in front of me, furious that he was being more of a pussy than my underweight, five foot three wife.
"Connor, you're fired. Take your shit and leave. I'll send you your last check when I get back from Miami."
His mouth fell open, water dripping from his hair in fat drops straight to his mouth. His imploring eyes fell to the floor, and he pushed himself slowly, depressingly, to a stand-up position.
"But what about your wife? Who's gonna watch over her?"
"She doesn't need watching over." I snorted, opening my front door and prompting him to get the hell out of my place. "Just look at the state of her and look at the state of you."