Page 174 of The Morally Grey Billionaires Boxset

Abby

“Oh, my god!” I scream as Cade swings the heavy skillet toward me.

I squeeze my eyes shut. I swear, I feel the breeze as it passes me, then hear the thunk of it hitting flesh.

The man cries out, and the knife leaves my throat.

He releases his hold on me, and I pitch forward.

The scent of cardamom and mint fills my nostrils, and I cry out, this time in relief.

His arms come around me, then I’m pushed back and behind him.

I snap my eyes open and turn to find Cade gripping the man’s wrist, that’s still holding the knife.

He raises the skillet again, but the man—now bleeding from his temple—head butts him in the stomach.

He crashes into me, and I lose my footing and hit the floor.

Cade must hear me fall for he turns. “Abby!”

“Cade, watch out!” I yell, but I’m too late, for the man manages to pull free of Cade.

He brings the knife down and across Cade’s chest. I scream.

Cade grunts, then turns and swings the skillet, this time, catching the other guy under his chin.

He stumbles back, and Cade swings again.

This time, the vessel connects with the man’s chest with such force, I hear his ribs crack.

The impact is so powerful, he’s thrown back.

He hits the backdoor of the kitchen, which shatters.

He falls over on his back, over the remnants of the door, and doesn’t move.

I stay on the floor, panting, sweat sliding down my temples. My chest hurts, my lungs burn, and my heart is still racing so fast, spots of black flicker at the corners of my vision. The room sways, then straightens. I fix my gaze on where Cade stands over the man.

He raises that heavy skillet again, and I scream. “Cade, stop, you’ll kill him.”

The planes of his back flex, and his shoulders heave. He stays motionless for a second, then slowly lowers his arm. The skillet hits the floor with a crash, and I shudder. I stumble toward him, and he turns. I throw my arms about his waist, and he grunts.

“Oh, sorry, you’re hurt.” I try to pull back, but he settles his heavy hands on my hips and holds me in place. “I’m fine,” he growls.

“You’re not. He hurt you, he—"

“It’s my fault. I’m sorry I said those nasty things to you tonight. I didn’t mean any of them.”

“It’s okay.” A tear squeezes out of the corner of my eye. “I understand. I know you don’t love me.”

“That’s not true.”

“No, it’s fine, you don’t have to pretend otherwise. I never should have told you I love you, I—"

“I love you.”

“Eh?” I look up at him. “What did you say?”

“I love you, Abby. I should have told you so earlier, but I didn’t. I’m sorry about that.”

“You don’t have to do this. I know emotions are running high now, but really, you don’t have to feel obliged to—"

“Knight never asked me to take care of you, not until I spoke to him yesterday.”

“What?”

“I told you he did, because it was the only way I could think of that you’d let me close enough—"

“So you could hurt me more?”

He looks away, then back at me. When he raises his gaze, I see the truth in his eyes. “Oh, my god.” I try to pull away, but the bastard still doesn’t release me.

“Let go of me Cade.”

He shakes his head. “Please, Abby, you need to realize, I was desperate. I knew I had been horrible to you—"

“Horrible? No-one has been this mean to me. Ever.”

He flinches, and I notice for the first time, he’s pale under his tan. Then, he seems to pull himself together. “I deserve your hate. I deserve every single negative emotion you harbor toward me. But please, you need to understand I’ve never felt this way about anyone.”

“So, what? You turn that into my fault? The fact that you began to look at me differently, that you realized I had changed, that I wasn’t the girl you once knew.

That the reason you came after me and interrupted my life was actually because you couldn’t forget me.

That you loved me from the moment you saw me, as much as I loved you. ”

“Loved?” He frowns. “You still love me.”

I shake my head. “Let go of me, Cade. Now.”

He does. He releases me, and a part of me marvels at it. This is what it feels like to hold sway over someone as dominant as him. Only, I don’t feel empowered. I feel… I’m not sure what.

I take a step back, then another.

“Don’t,” he whispers. “Don’t, Abby.”

“I… I can’t deal with all of this.”

“You don’t have to. Let me deal with it for you.”

“The way you’ve dealt with everything in my life for the past eight months? You were hateful to me. You took my virginity.”

He swallows.

“Then, that night you made love to me, only to leave me without a word of explanation.”

He draws in a breath. “I was scared, Abby.”

“So was I. But I had the decency to face my feelings, instead of hiding.”

“I’m sorry, Sparrow.”

“No, you don’t get to call me by that nickname anymore.”

He pales further. “Don’t say that.”

“I have nothing more to say to you, Cade.”

His gaze widens. “Abby—"

“No, not one word from you. I will not—"

He throws himself at me, and I scream. He pushes me out of the way with such force I fall to the ground, then he huffs out a breath. I turn and scream to find the intruder on his feet, his hands around the handle of the knife—the knife which protrudes from Cade’s side.

“Cade!” I scream, then scream again, when he grabs the guy and throws him down the fire-escape. I rush toward him. “Cade! Oh, my god, Cade.” He sways. There’s so much blood dripping down from him and onto the floor. I slip on it, but he catches me. “You’re hurt. You’re really hurt.” I cry

“I hurt you so much more.” He murmurs, then begins to topple over.

I try to hold him up, but his weight is too much. He slumps to the floor, taking me with him.

“Cade, baby.” I cup his cheek. Tears slide down my face and plop on his cheek.

“I’m sorry, Abby.”

That only makes me sob louder. “I need to call an ambulance.” I try to pull away, but he doesn’t let go. “Please, Cade, I need to call…someone.”

“…called for help…’fore I arrived,” he mumbles. “…be here soon.” His eyelids flutter down.

“Cade, no, please. You need to stay awake.”

He raises his eyelids, and those mismatched eyes gaze at me with a look I’ve never seen in them before. Love, so much love, and tenderness and devotion.

“Kiss me,” he murmurs.

“What?”

“Kiss. Me. Abby.”

I kiss him. Guess he still holds sway over me. He’ll always hold sway over me. And I’m not sure how I feel about him. It doesn’t stop me from parting my lips and allowing him to deepen the kiss.

“That guy… He won’t bother you again,” he whispers against my mouth.

“Hush. Let the police handle him.”

As if on cue, footsteps clatter behind us. Then two men in uniform rush in.