Page 11 of Bloodstained Wings
He drops me into our shared bed, my back hitting the mattress rather abruptly. While Carter waltzes into the bathroom, I hesitate to stand up, to move an inch, unsure what’s going on in his head right now.
“I thought… I thought we were going to Anita’s tonight,” I whisper at last.
He comes back, wearing nothing but his pants while his midsection is bare, exposing the muscles that create his finely toned body. He grips his leather belt in his hand, his other shaking furiously at his side.
“Why were you outside?” he shouts, changing subjects rather abruptly. “I was looking for you for ten minutes, Bella. Why did you go outside alone?”
Swallowing hard, I sit up on the bed. I want to appear innocent in this situation, though I know it won’t matter—he’s too pissed off to negotiate with.
“Sorry, Carter. I was just—”
“No,” he bites, his teeth grit. “Try that again.”
I swallow, seeing where this is leading. “I’m sorry, sir. I just wanted a breath of fresh air, that’s all.”
“You remember what happened last time we were there, don’t you? Did that slip your mind, dove? You can’t just be lounging around the sidewalks of Manhattan, not after I’ve lost the election.”
My brows furrow with the fear that grazes his tone. “I thought you said if you lost, it would be okay.”
“I lied,” he bites. “It’s not okay. It’s not good, Isabella. That prick Killian Hughes is going to try and drown me now. I can’t let that happen. I have to be careful now and not ruffle any feathers, but how can I do that when my own family is questioning my place?”
I inch back slightly. It’s not about me; I can see that, but his anger has no other place to escape right now. Pushing off the bed, I kick my heels off and stand before him. He watches my every move, the belt trembling in his palm.
Steering clear of that threat, I let my fingernails drag over the bumpy surface of his abdominal muscles.
“Everything will be fine,” I say at last. “It’s going to work out. We just have to adjust.”
He looks skeptical. “Adjust. How do you suggest we do that, dove? I already work in the shadows. I can’t hide it any more than I already have.”
“Maybe you should work in the open, then,” I suggest.
His face turns hesitantly curious. “Keep talking.”
“You have that downtown project, right? The stripped building that Jacob was going to use. Move your office there and work right across the street from the mayor’s place. Rub his nose in it. You said it yourself, Carter. Most of the things that the FBI wanted to pin on you can’t be charged now. You gave it up to put Frances in prison.”
“If I do anything stupid, I’m next,” he snarls.
I nod slowly. “I understand that. That’s why you won’t be doing the dirty work. Sit in his face, move across the street from his new office, and be the best citizen of Manhattan possible. Let your family handle the shady shit for a while. Killian will be so focused on you that he won’t see what’s going on behind you.”
For the first time tonight, Carter seems to relax. “That’s not a bad idea, actually. The only thing is that I have to get my family back in line. After what Nicolas spouted off about, I’ll need to be a bit more tactical in how I handle it. I just need his words to keep from spreading poison in the family.”
I stand on the tips of my toes just to get a better angle to kiss his cheek. “You can handle anything, Carter.”
“I can handle everything except for the fact that you’re still in that dress.”
“Are you saying I should take it off?”
His hand tightens around the belt. “If you don’t, I’ll cut it off of you, dove.”
My throat closes, and I strip out of my dress, watching him circle back into the bathroom. I make sure to take everything off, waiting for him to return. I can hear him rustling through a few boxes in the closet, waiting for him to return with a toy or two in his hand.
Instead, my mouth blurts out a random question that’s probably better left in the back of my throat.
“Who was that reporter you were looking at earlier?”
The rustling stops. He leans on the doorframe of the closet, his head cocked to the side. “What did you just ask me?”
Swallowing hard, I repeat the question with a change or two. “Well, when you were getting into the car, you stopped. Like you knew that woman.”