Page 33 of Wicked Sinner

I look around the room as he leaves, wondering if I should take anything with me. Do I want any of it? I look at the expensive clothing, knowing I’d never be able to explain any of it if Jenny looked in my closet. But then again, I have something else that I’m going to have to explain.

I touch my stomach. There’s a lot of explaining to do.

By the time Caesar brings the suitcase up, I’ve decided what I want.

I take the books that I was actually interested in—there’s at least a hundred and fifty dollars worth of books, and that’s money I never have extra of to spend—and some of the clothing.

I leave the evening dresses in the closet at first, thinking I’ll never wear them again, and just pack the nice lounge and sleep clothes, and some of the outfits that I liked.

Eventually, however, the practical side takes over.

I take the dresses off their hangers, including the one I wore out to that dinner with Caesar, and pack them along with the shoes and jewelry.

He can think that I’m taking them to remember him by or whatever, but I’m taking them because if I ever do need money again—not that I probably ever will after this settlement—they’re worth a lot.

And who knows? Caesar is convinced that the baby is a boy, but it could be a girl. Maybe she’d want some of these things, one day.

Caesar comes up thirty minutes later. “They’ll be bringing the car around in ten minutes,” he says, reaching for my bag, and I let out a sharp breath.

Ten minutes. In ten minutes, after all of this, I’ll be free.

It feels hard to believe.

Caesar looks at me as if there’s something more he wants to say, but nothing comes out. This is likely the last time I’m ever going to see him, I realize, and I try to tear my eyes away, but I can’t stop looking at him.

I hate that I'm attracted to him. I hate that even now, even after everything he's done, some part of me responds to his presence, to how unfairly gorgeous he is. I hate that there were moments, brief flashes during our time together, when I remembered that night, when I wanted him, when I thought of how it could have been different if he’d…

If he’d what? I look away, my pulse beating too quickly.

Caesar did what he did because of who he is.

He made me an offensive offer, and then he kidnapped me.

It was never going to be different. And no matter how much he might regret his actions now, it doesn't change what he did to me.

It doesn't erase the fear and helplessness, and rage of these past weeks.

A knock at the door interrupts my thoughts, and Caesar goes to answer it. Marco is standing in the doorway, Bryce just behind him, and Caesar hands off my bag to Bryce before looking directly at Marco.

“Escort Bridget home,” he says after a moment’s pause.

“Take the SUV. After, I want you to stay and keep an eye on the house and garage until I can arrange for men I can trust to take your place.

She's not to be interfered with or restricted in any way unless there's an immediate threat to her safety. Understood?"

“Yes, sir,” Marco says, his voice crisp, and a shiver runs down my spine. These are Caesar's men, loyal to him above all else. How do I know they won't just drag me back here the moment I try to leave.

As if reading my thoughts, Caesar turns to me.

"They’ll be there to protect you, not control you.

You won’t notice them once you’re dropped off, I promise.

If you want to leave Miami, they'll arrange safe transport.

If you want to disappear entirely, they'll help you do it.

Their only job is to make sure you and the baby stay safe. "

I swallow hard. Caesar has given me no reason to trust him, no reason to think that he’s being genuine—but in this moment, I do.

My gut tells me that he’s given up, that he’s decided that this is the best course of action, not what he was doing before.

And if there’s one thing I have seen from Caesar in the days that I’ve been here, it’s that he will stubbornly stick to what he’s decided is the path forward.

"I'm ready," I say quietly.

For just a moment, as Caesar looks at me, I see the carefully controlled mask slip. There’s a flicker of regret in his eyes, and something that looks almost like need. Something that makes me think he wishes things had gone differently.

And then it vanishes, replaced by a neutral expression that gives nothing away.

"The car is waiting downstairs," he says. "Marco and Bryce will take good care of you."

I nod, licking my lips nervously. I’m going home—I should be bouncing down the stairs. But I feel afraid, and I don’t entirely understand why. Maybe it’s because the life I’m going home to isn’t exactly the life that I left behind.

I’m pregnant now. My garage has been closed for two weeks. Jenny is going to be frantic wondering where I’ve been. I have so much explaining to do, excuses to make up, a life to get back in order.

But I’ve done all of this before. Picked myself up from the ruins and pushed forward.

I can do it again. This is nothing compared to losing my father. Nothing compared to trying to carry on a life that I used to share with someone else.

“Let’s go.” I walk past Caesar, past Marco, and Bryce as they step out of the doorway. And then I hear his voice behind me, calling my name.

“Bridget.”

I shouldn’t stop. I should keep walking, ignore him. He’s letting me go, and I don’t owe him anything. But for some reason, my feet slow to a halt, and I glance back to see him looking at me with that flicker of longing that I saw a moment ago shining brightly in his eyes now.

He swallows hard. "If you ever change your mind… if you ever decide you want to try… I don’t know what my marital situation will be like soon, but we could figure something—”

“I won’t.” I cut him off before he can finish.

There’s no point in having this discussion.

I can't afford to let myself think about what might have been if we'd met under different circumstances, if he'd been a different man or I'd been a different woman.

And I was never going to be his girl on the side—I never would be for anyone.

Whatever there could have been between us is over.

Caesar nods, his expression shuttering again. "Take care of yourself, Bridget. Take care of our baby."

"I will," I say it quickly, pressing my lips together before I can say anything else, and then turn my back on him, walking away with the sound of Marco and Bryce’s footsteps behind me.

The elevator ride down feels endless, the silence broken only by the soft hum of machinery. I can see Marco and Bryce in my periphery, but neither of them says anything, and I’m grateful for that. I don't think I could handle small talk right now.

They lead me to a sleek black SUV, Bryce tossing my bag in the back.

I feel my stomach clench as Marco opens the door for me—by getting in, I’m trusting that Caesar isn’t tricking me somehow.

That I’m not being taken to some other place where he’s going to keep me captive, or worse, being taken somewhere to be threatened into compliance.

For a moment, I consider simply bolting and making a run for it. But I don’t have money, and the walk home is so long that my feet cramp just thinking about it.

I don’t have very many choices. Either I try to run and go home on foot, I get in the car and trust that Caesar is giving me an escort home, or I go back inside.

The latter isn’t an option. I take a deep breath and get into the SUV.

It’s roomy and cool, smelling like fresh leather. I buckle myself in, my chest tight as Marco gets in and starts the car, Bryce joining him on the passenger side. No one asks me for an address; Caesar must have given Marco everything he needs. Or I’ve been tricked into getting into this car.

The SUV glides out of the garage, and I try to breathe, my throat tight with nerves. I’m not going to feel calm until I get home, and even then, I’m sure it will take days for me to feel safe again. Maybe more.

Both Marco and Bryce are silent as we drive.

After a little while, Bryce turns on the radio to a top 100 Station, and Marco shoots him a look, but doesn’t switch it off.

We’re nearing the outskirts of the city when I hear Bryce draw in a breath and see him lean forward, looking intently in the side mirror.

“I think we have company,” he says, his voice dropping as he glances at Marco. “This doesn’t look good.”

I twist in my seat to look out the back window, and my stomach twists.

There are two black SUVs behind us, driving aggressively, weaving through the other cars behind us—to keep up with us, I realize after a moment’s confusion.

As I watch, one of them pulls alongside us, and I can see the dark shapes of men inside, their faces hidden behind tinted windows.

My pulse starts to beat hard in my throat.

I didn’t really believe Caesar when he said someone might want to hurt me.

I thought he was bluffing, trying to scare me, trying to make me think that I needed him.

But now, seeing the shapes of the men in the car next to us, hearing the honking of traffic as the other SUV winds closer, I feel a sick, cold sensation spread through me.

"Hold on," Marco says grimly, and suddenly we're accelerating, the engine roaring as he pushes the car faster. The SUVs match our speed easily, and it sinks in with growing horror that this isn't a coincidence. Someone is following us. Someone wants to stop us.

"Who are they?" I ask, my voice high and tight with fear.