“Yes, ma’am.” I nodded.
“Persephone, your job is to come home with me and get some beauty sleep…and maybe give Anne a piece of your mind for that little stunt she pulled.”
“Yes, Mama.”
“One more minute. You understand?” She pointed her finger at us, but she was smiling.
“I’ll send her right out,” I promised.
“Good. And that suit looks mighty handsome on you, Cannon. You should wear ties more often.” She winked.
Fat chance in hell, but if either of these women wanted me to, I would.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Mrs. VanDoren gave us a little wave and closed the door behind her as she returned to the party.
Persephone sighed, then lowered herself from the table and faced me.
“Okay, I’m going to talk now, and you’re going to listen.”
I arched an eyebrow.
“I want to marry you.”
My lips parted, but her fingers covered them before I could speak. I barely kept myself from darting my tongue between her fingers out of sheer habit. Fuck, touching her, kissing her had become so common to me I couldn’t imagine not doing it.
“Nope. I’m talking,” she reminded me. “I want to marry you, and I’m not afraid to say it, to put my heart out there on the line. I know you think I’m weak—”
My eyes flared, and a growl worked its way up my throat.
“But I’m not. I’m strong enough to stand here and tell you that I love you, even though you…” She shook her head. “I want to marry you, Cannon. I’ve never been happier in my life than I have been as your wife. I want to sleep next to you, make love to you, walk Cerberus with you, cheer you on at games, have babies with you—all of it. I want everything with you.” Her face fell, and so did her fingers from my lips. “But you just keep listing all the reasons we shouldn’t be together instead of everything we have going for us.”
“Persephone,” I pled. For her to stop? For her to continue? Fuck, I didn’t know. The only thing I was certain of was the ache in my chest, ripping my soul from my body when I thought about the rest of my life without her. But how many painful moments like this morning would I bring her if I selfishly stayed?
Would I be stealing away her real chance at happiness with someone who was a better fit for her just because I couldn’t bear to let her go?
“So here it is, Cannon.” Her shoulders straightened, and her chin rose. “I love you. That’s my reason for wanting to marry you. I love you, whether you believe me or not. I’m sorry that I haven’t had to make the sacrifices you have. I’m sorry that my life has been so much easier than yours, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t love you, because I do. If that’s not enough of a reason for you…” She sucked in a breath that stilled my heart. “Then maybe you’re right, and we shouldn’t be married because I’m realizing that the more I love you, the surer I am that I can’t walk down the aisle toward someone who doesn’t love me.”
She didn’t wait for me to reply or give me time to process. She just turned and walked out of the room with her head held high, and shut the door, leaving me alone in the darkness.
Where I’d been before I’d fallen for her.
Telling her the truth in my heart wouldn’t solve our problems. It wouldn’t make this easier. It would be the tether that bound her to me. The fuse on a lit bomb that would eventually destroy her.
My phone buzzed for the millionth time that day, and I finally slipped it from my pocket. A text message alert from my personal publicist—one of at least a dozen lit up the screen. Eventually, I was going to have to call her back. Eventually, I was going to have to deal with the shitstorm I’d created because Michael had been successful in pushing my buttons. He’d gotten exactly what he wanted when I lost my shit.
Eventually wouldn’t cut it for the timeline on my biggest problem.
I had less than twenty-four hours to figure out if I was strong enough to walk away from the only woman I’d ever truly wanted.
My hand rested over that burning patch of skin on my chest.
I meant what I’d told her—that love meant sacrifice. It meant being willing to lay your own body down to protect the person you loved from pain.
That’s what I was doing for her—protecting her even though it was fucking killing me.
I had to protect her because I loved her.
Fuck. I was in love with Persephone.
But my heart felt like it always did, like it always had since that moment.
Chills shot down my spine with the realization.
I’d been in love with her since—
The woman fell into the hallway, and I opened my arms, letting both my stick and helmet crash to the floor as I caught her.
She was a tiny thing—ridiculously light as I carefully set her back on her feet. Feet that were clad in equally tiny, sexy heels. They matched her light blue sundress and sweater that buttoned modestly over her breasts and had a little bow at the back. Red soles.
This woman reeked not just of money—but of class. The kind you couldn’t buy. The kind that got passed down through generations of the same.
“Are you alright, lass?” Connell asked from a few feet away.
She untangled herself from a waterfall of long blonde hair. It was pale as moonlight, the strands soft as silk as it grazed a bare strip of skin between my glove and jersey, and long enough to imply that she lived in a tower. A tower I had no business climbing because she was clearly so out of my league that we weren’t even playing the same sport.
“I’m just a bit embarrassed, but I’m okay.” Her voice was sweeter than honey, lilting with a southern drawl that slid over me like velvet and stirred my cock to life. Holy shit, this woman had just turned me on, and I hadn’t even seen her face.
Then I did. She turned to look up at me, and her eyes punched me in the damned stomach. Crystal-fucking-blue and rimmed with thick lashes that did nothing to hide the emotion in them. Fuck, I bet this woman wore her heart on her four-thousand-dollar sleeve. Innocence, embarrassment, honesty—it was all right there for anyone to see, for anyone to take advantage of. An inexplicable, almost primal urge to protect her slammed into me with the force of an avalanche.
She was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen in my life. So perfect that she couldn’t be real. No one was that flawless outside the pages of a book…and yet she was. Her nose was pert and a perfect fit for her heart-shaped face and her plump, bow-shaped lips were a kissable shade of pink.
“Thank you so much for catching me—” She started to say, but then those eyes widened in surprise and recognition. She probably knew who I was, which meant she probably knew I was the last man whose arms she should have tumbled into.
Then her pupils dilated slightly, and her lips parted. Apparently, she liked what she saw, too.
Not for you. Not for you. Not for you. My brain tried to get the thought through to the rest of my body, but couldn’t seem to break past the swelling in my chest that screamed its own chant.
Mine. Mine. Mine.
Holy shit, I was losing it. Right there in the hallway of my own rink, surrounded by my teammates, I was sinking into insanity, driven mad by a woman who had such little disregard for her own safety that she was running in heels on a rubberized hallway slick from the melted ice dripping from our skates. I scrambled for the first words I could think of.
“Next time, don’t run down the hallway in heels,” I growled, narrowing my eyes in hopes I’d scare her off. Big bad wolves like me ate innocent little girls like her for breakfast.
If she wasn’t careful, I’d eat her all night long.
My teammates groaned at my lack of manners. Fuck them. I was who I was, and it was for her own safety that she learned it fast.
“Jesus, Cannon, can’t you just say you’re welcome?” Connell chided.
Instead of running like she should have, the woman arched a delicate brow at my tone, making it clear that neither my siz
e, my reputation, nor my tattoos intimidated her.
She wasn’t scared of me.
My heart fucking stilled, and when it began pounding again, the beats felt like they didn’t belong to me. Like I no longer belonged to myself in general.
“I’ll be more careful in the future,” she drawled softly, her eyes dropping from mine to where my hand cupped her elbow, keeping her steady. No wedding ring.
Shit. Had I been touching her this whole time? I cursed my glove, wishing I could feel my bare skin against hers just once. Once, and I’d be content.
That was a lie. Something told me that if I ever got this woman under my hands, I’d never be content, or capable of letting her go. She looked like ambrosia, food for the ancient Gods, and just like ambrosia, all it would take would be one bite to ruin a mortal, flawed man like me.
It felt like slow-motion, but in reality, my grip snapped open as I found the strength to let her go. That protective instinct swirled in my gut, pairing with that heavy, sweet ache in my chest to turn me inside out.
Protecting her meant keeping my damned hands off her, which I vowed right there and then to do. Besides, she was everything I hated, right? Obviously wealthy, educated, and a member of the upper class who had always sneered at those more unfortunate than they were.
Right. I should have hated her.
I should hate her designer shoes, her diamond stud earrings that were bigger than most engagement rings, and the refined way she held herself.
There was only one problem with hating her.
One fucking look and I’d been a goner.
My hands clenched at the memory, at the effort it had taken to let go of something so innocent as her elbow. Now I knew her—I knew her heart, her soul, and her mind. I’d found solace in her arms, and mind-bending pleasure in her body.
I knew the taste of her kiss, and the depth of her pure, unscarred heart—a heart that had tricked her mind into thinking that she was in love with me.
My cell phone dinged with yet another text—no doubt another article publicizing my evil temper and her naiveté for marrying a man like me. Another article shaming her.
This wasn’t her elbow anymore—it was her future, and I wasn’t sure I was strong enough to let her go this time.
I loved her. My soul belonged to her.
I had to protect her…even if she’d hate me for it.
20
Persephone
Raised voices tumbled through the half-open window of my old room in my parents’ house, so I set my coffee down in a hurry. When I heard Owen—Cannon’s nephew—start wailing, I rushed outside, not even bothering to shut the door.
Early morning light illuminated the dark scene—Cannon’s father, somehow on my property and yelling at Lillian, who tucked a crying Owen behind her back.
“You get your no-good piece of shit brother out here right now!” Cannon’s father yelled, jabbing a finger toward Lillian. “Or I swear to God I’ll—”
“Excuse me,” I cut him off, stepping between him and Lillian, so close I had to push his hand away so it didn’t touch my face. “I’m not sure how you got on my property, but you’ll be leaving now.” I typed a fast text to Gerald, knowing he’d make it around to the back of the estate in minutes.
He sneered. “I had an invitation,” he said, waving a familiar piece of cardstock between us. “Some Ms. Conroy sent it to me. Security didn’t think twice. Dumbasses.”
My heart clenched—Ms. Conroy was my mother’s personal assistant. She must’ve overlooked the fact that this man was definitely not family. Fire boiled in my blood as his eyes fell back to Lillian, who stood trembling behind me, her eyes drenched in panic, fear.
“Fetch him,” he said to her. “Now.”
I glared at him before turning to Lillian. “Take Owen inside,” I said, motioning to the main house where a proper security detail would be waiting. Not to mention the handful of Reapers who’d gathered to scarf down the brunch spread we’d served in the formal dining room. Not Cannon, though, but I assumed—or hoped—it was because he was on his morning run.
She hesitated, her eyes darting between us. “I’m fine,” I assured her. “Please, Lillian. Get Owen a second breakfast or some chocolate milk.” The little boy stopped crying for a moment upon hearing that, and Lillian nodded as she scooped him up and hurried toward the main house.
Cannon’s father moved to follow her, and I stepped in his path, putting my back to the main house but effectively stopping him. He glared down at me, surmising my tiny frame which he easily towered over.
“I’m not afraid of you,” I said, though adrenaline rushed through my veins. All I had to do was keep him occupied long enough for Gerald to get my message, or for Lillian to alert the house—where half the Carolina Reapers had slept last night. “And I don’t know how you came by that invitation, but it clearly wasn’t issued to you. Only family was invited.”
“I am that boy’s family.” He scoffed. “Blood.” He shook his head. “I should be ashamed to admit that too. He’s the laziest, most arrogant piece of shit there is. Won’t even take care of his kin. Problematic. Always has been. That’s why his poor sister never got adopted when I lost my rights. Every bad thing in her life and mine is because of him. Because his stupid mother spoiled him rotten. I tried to make him a man, but he never did listen. And that temper of his?” His eyes trailed the length of my body, and suddenly I wanted a second shower. “You’re hiding bruises under that pretty little sundress, aren’t you?”
Rage, unfiltered and undiluted rushed through my blood, my soul.
“Shut your ignorant mouth,” I snapped. “Cannon is a hundred times the man you’ll ever be, and thank God for that. He’s your opposite in every way. Brilliant where you are dim.” I stepped toward him, my anger radiating off of me in waves. So much the man retreated a step. “Compassionate where you are cold.” Another step, another retreat. “Perceptive where you are oblivious.” I stopped, glaring up at him, my fists shaking at my sides. “Worthy where you are not.”
He clenched his jaw, his face turning ten shades of red.
“You are nothing. And he is everything, and I swear to the Lord above if you don’t get the fuck off my property, I will use all my considerable power and connections to ensure you never live another easy day the rest of your pathetic life.” My heart galloped so fast the words came out a little breathless, but no tears pricked my eyes. I stood my ground, held my spine straight.
His eyes lifted up and behind me, but I didn’t dare turn around in case it was a trick to cause me harm. “I promised you this reckoning would come!” he snapped, still looking over my head. “This is what you get for turning your back on your family.” He pointed down to me. “Marrying a heartless little upper-class piece of ass? I at least thought you were better than that.” He moved to step around me, and I finally turned to see Cannon standing there, fists clenched at his sides, but his eyes? They were on me…shock and awe and disbelief and pain churning in their dark depths.
I spun back around to face Cannon’s biological father, and I moved on instinct, on the sheer will of my soul that screamed to protect him.
“Don’t speak to him,” I said, stepping between him and Cannon. The man reached for me, and I tilted my head. “I dare you to put a hand on me. Go ahead,” I urged, my entire body shaking with adrenaline. “See what happens.”
He paused. In my peripheral vision, not one or two but four Reapers rushed toward the scene.
“Axel,” I said without having to look at the giant to know he’d made it to my side first. “Would you and Lukas please help remove this man from my property?”
“With pleasure,” Axel said, and Lukas nodded as they rounded on Cannon’s father.
“Don’t you put your damned hands on me!” he yelled, but I eyed him.
“Resist, and I’ll phone the police.”
He stopped his struggle, and Axel and Lukas herded him toward the front of the property where I could see Gerald and two o
f his security detail rushing for us.
Logan and Connell flanked Cannon’s side, but it wasn’t until I watched Axel and Lukas hand off his father to our team that I could truly look at Cannon.
Frozen—the man hadn’t moved, save for the tremble in his fists and the tick in his clenched jaw. I sighed, flashing a grateful look toward Logan and Connell, who were clearly there to help him if he couldn’t hold himself back from the violence I knew surged through his veins. I nodded to them both, and they understood the silent plea, turning around to meet up with Axel and Lukas closer to the house.
I breached the distance between us, slowly, as if approaching a feral jungle cat. Close enough to touch, but I didn’t…couldn’t. “Cannon,” I said, sighing. He’d shown incredible restraint, locking himself down from going after his father…especially after his stream of foul words.
I waited—not reaching for him, not pushing him—simply waited in silence with him as he collected himself. As his breathing evened out. The rise and fall of his chest relaxing as the seconds ticked by. My own heartbeat had yet to calm, and I wrung my hands in an effort to stop their shaking.
Cannon moved then, some leash on himself dropped. Gently, he held my hands palm up, tracing the lines with his thumbs, massaging them until the trembling had soothed. Something heated and electric pulsed between us, between those innocent touches, and I looked up at him, my eyes pleading. Words, there were so many words I needed to say, wanted to say, but my emotions clogged my throat until I could barely breathe.
He took a step back, letting my hands fall to my sides. And that step back felt like an ocean between us, a raging sea I needed to cross but had little strength to do so.
“You haven’t called off the wedding,” he said, glancing around the property like the band might start playing Here Comes the Bride at any moment.
“Neither have you,” I answered, my voice cracking. Our eyes locked, and the charged emotion churning in his sparked something right down to my soul. Some inner piece of himself I had never seen before and couldn’t decipher. The wall gone, I stared at him and begged for understanding. For that common ground we had not so long ago.
Cannon (Carolina Reapers Book 5) Page 24