Page 32 of Wicked Sinner

brIDGET

I'm staring at Caesar like he's grown a second head.

"What did you just say?" My voice comes out hoarse, disbelieving.

I've been fighting him for weeks now, refusing every demand, every threat, every attempt at seduction.

I've made it crystal clear that I will never willingly marry him, never willingly stay in this gilded prison he's created for me.

And now he's just… agreeing to let me go?

Caesar runs a hand through his dark hair, and for the first time since I've known him, he looks tired. Not just physically tired, but soul-deep exhausted, like something inside him has finally broken. "I said I'm letting you go, Bridget. You can leave. I’ll have Marco and Bryce escort you back home to make sure you get there safely. We can arrange a settlement amount for you and the baby. And I’ll make sure that no one hurts you. I’d like to leave security with you, at least for a while, but…

" He trails off. “That’s up to you. I’m going to keep eyes on you, though.

That’s nonnegotiable. And if you were willing to leave Miami, that would be best. I know you don’t want to. ”

His voice is flat, all of it delivered like he’s rehearsed it already.

Like he doesn’t want to say any of it. I stare at him, wondering if this is somehow a trick.

Some new manipulation, some game I don't understand yet. Caesar Genovese has given me no indication that he’s the kind of man to just give up on things he wants, and he's made it abundantly clear that he wants me and this baby badly.

"Why?" The question slips out before I can stop it, and I hate how small my voice sounds. I hate that I'm even asking, that some part of me needs to understand what's changed.

Another part of me, one that I don’t want to examine too closely, hates how broken he sounds. How defeated. That whatever there was—is—between us brought us to this.

He looks at me for a long moment, his blue eyes dark with something I can't quite read. Pain, maybe. Regret. "Because I can't keep doing this to you," he says finally. "I can't keep you here against your will forever, Bridget.”

"Since when?" The words come out sharper than I intended, all the anger and frustration of the past weeks bleeding through.

"Since when do you care about what I want?

You kidnapped me, Caesar. You locked me in a room and told me I was going to marry you whether I liked it or not.

You've spent weeks trying to force me into submission, and now you're just… what? Having a change of heart?"

Something flickers across his face, something that looks almost like shame.

"I never wanted to hurt you," he says quietly.

"I know you don't believe that, but it's true.

I wanted you to see that we could have something good together, that I could give you and our child everything you could ever need. "

"By keeping me prisoner?" I laugh, but there's no humor in it. "By threatening me and manipulating me and trying to break me down until I had no choice but to give in?"

"Yes." The simple admission catches me off guard.

I was expecting him to argue, to justify his actions somehow.

Instead, he just looks at me with those tired eyes and nods.

"Yes, that's exactly what I was doing. And I can't do it anymore. I was wrong, alright? I thought you would come around, eventually. That you just needed to see things differently, that you just needed time. But I was wrong. I’m sorry. "

I stare at him, searching his face for any sign that this is another game, another manipulation.

But all I see is exhaustion and something that might be genuine remorse.

It doesn't make up for what he's done to me, not even close, but it's more honesty than I've gotten from him since this whole nightmare started.

"I don't understand," I say finally. "What changed? Yesterday, you were telling me that I belonged to you, that you'd never let me go. Today you're just… done?”

Caesar moves closer, and I tense automatically, but he stops a few feet away, his hands hanging loose at his sides.

"Yesterday I was still telling myself it could work," he says, and his voice is so quiet I have to strain to hear it.

"I thought if I just kept trying, kept pushing, eventually you'd see that I wasn't the monster you think I am.

That you'd realize we could be happy together. "

"And now?"

"Now I realize that the only way I can make you stay is by being exactly the monster you think I am.

" He looks down at his hands, and I can see the tension in his shoulders, the way he's holding himself like he's fighting not to reach for me. "I could keep you here forever, Bridget. I could keep the three of us here together, or I could take the child away eventually and raise them at my father’s old mansion. I could tell them whatever story I made up about what happened. I could keep you here and never let you go, or I could make you disappear.”

The casual way he says it, like he's discussing the weather, sends a chill down my spine.

Because I can hear the truth in his words.

He could do all of those things. He has the power, the resources, the connections.

And until this moment, I wasn't entirely sure he wouldn't. I was beginning to feel hopeless. Like the future he just described was the future I’d unwittingly doomed myself to—and my baby.

"But I won't," he continues, finally looking up at me again.

"I won't do that to you, and I won't do that to our child. You deserve better than that. Our baby deserves better than that. And that’s not the kind of man I am. I never could have done that to you. I truly… I thought you would change your mind. But I understand now that you won’t. "

That defeat is in his voice again, a tired sound that makes my chest ache despite myself.

I want to stay angry. I want to hold onto the fury that's been sustaining me through these weeks of captivity, the righteous indignation that's kept me fighting when everything else felt hopeless.

But looking at him now, seeing something that might actually be genuine regret in his eyes, I find my anger wavering.

Not disappearing. I'm still furious with him, still hurt and betrayed and traumatized by what he's put me through. But underneath all of that, there's something else. Something that feels dangerously like relief.

"So what happens now?" I ask. "You just… let me walk out of here? Go back to my life like none of this ever happened?"

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a sleek black phone, holding it out to me. "My number's programmed in there. If you need anything—money above and beyond what we’ll discuss later, protection, medical care—you call me. No questions asked, no strings attached."

I stare at the phone like it might bite me. "And if I don't call? If I just disappear and you never hear from me again?"

Pain flashes across his face, quick and sharp, before he schools his expression back to neutral.

"Then I'll respect that choice. I'll have my lawyers draw up papers giving up any claim to the child, if that's what you want. You'll never have to see me again." He pauses. “I’ll have someone send settlement papers to your house. You should stay there long enough for that, at least. We’ll come to terms on an amount that will take care of you and the baby. You’ll have to relinquish their claim to anything I have, but I assume you’ll be fine with that, given your stance on… everything.”

Every word he says sounds like it’s being dragged out of his mouth by force, but they should make me happy.

This is everything I've been fighting for, everything I've wanted since the moment he dragged me out of my garage.

Freedom. The chance to raise my baby in peace, away from the violence and danger of his world. So why do I feel like crying?

“Okay,” I say finally. “So, what? I leave now?”

“When you’re ready.” Caesar runs a hand through his hair.

“You can take anything you want that I got for you. It’s all yours anyway—I’ll throw it out if you don’t take it.

Marco and Bryce will drive you home. They'll stay close enough for a few days to make sure you're safe, but they won't interfere unless you're in danger. "

"Bodyguards," I say flatly.

"Protection," he corrects. "There are people in my world who might try to use you to get to me, especially now that you’ll be on your own again. I wasn’t lying about that, Bridget, and the threat is real. I can't just send you back to your life without making sure you're safe."

I want to argue, to tell him I don't need his protection, but the truth is that I am a little scared.

I never gave any thought to the mafia or any kind of criminal underworld before, but my eyes have been opened over the past weeks.

My stubborn nature makes me not want to agree with him about anything, but if there really are people out there who might hurt me to get to Caesar, then maybe having protection isn't the worst thing.

"Fine," I agree reluctantly. "But they stay outside. I don't want them in my house, and I don't want them following me everywhere I go."

“Like I said, you won’t even notice them.”

“Then I guess…” I pause. “I guess I’ll pack.”

Caesar hesitates, as if he wants to say something else, but he just nods after a moment. “I’ll bring up a suitcase for you,” he says, and then he’s striding to the door, walking out without a word.

For the first time, he doesn’t lock it behind him. And that’s the moment that I really, truly believe he’s telling the truth. If he’s letting me go, there’s no need for me to run. And if there’s no need for me to run, then he doesn’t need to lock the door.