Crossed: Chapter 29

CADE FRÉDÉRIC GIVES ME WHIPLASH. ONE second, he’s dominant and dangerous, masking his dark and tortured soul with his devotion to the church, and the next, he’s lighthearted and almost…normal.

Like Jekyll and Hyde, flipping personalities with the switch of a light.

He’s nice to Quinten, then mean to me.

He finger fucks me in his house, then calls me a whore and treats me like dirt on his shoe.

And even though his “I’m sorry” doesn’t make up for the way he made me feel, it’s more than I expected him to give. And I know it’s genuine.

But his question about my mother feels too close. Too personal. And after everything we’ve been going through, after him just saying we’re impossible, which I know we are, I can’t go there with him. So I lash out instead. “How many other unsuspecting women do you pretend to be a man of God with and then take advantage of?”

As soon as I say the words, the air shifts and changes, and I close my eyes, rubbing my lips together and wishing with everything in me that I could suck the words back in. I forget just how dangerous he can feel, how it’s a tangible thing in the air, so heavy I can reach out and touch it.

Cade straightens like a board, his body stiff like a jack- in- the- box waiting to pop.

Nerves dance through my stomach. “I didn’t mean— ”

He moves so quickly, wind whips through my hair, and I’m forced back until I’m practically flat against the couch, my neck bent over the arm. Wisps of his energy tangle with mine, lashing across my skin like waves crashing along the shore.

“You didn’t mean what, petite pécheresse? Didn’t mean to throw baseless accusations at a man you know nothing about?” The hairs rise on the back of my neck.

“They’re not baseless,” I murmur, because…who the fuck knows why? Clearly, I have a knack for self- sabotage. I’m egging him on, but I can’t stop myself, wanting to see how far I can push him. At least if he’s angry again, he won’t want to know about my mom.

His arms come up on either side of my head, the veins in his forearms flexing, and because of the way my hair is fanned out behind me, when he presses down with his palms, it tugs on the strands. I bite back a moan at the sharp stab of pain, and I realize with a sickening realization that even when he scares me, he turns me on.

His breath hits my neck. An inch closer and we’d be flush together.

“How can anyone blame me?” he rasps. “I am a man of God, mon trésor, but I am still just a man.”

My heart pounds in my chest, my lungs squeezing until my breathing comes in sharp, short pants.

And I wait. Wait for him to touch me. Kiss me. Hurt me.

Something.

Only it never comes.

Instead, he moves back and sits on the opposite end of the couch, brushing his hand down the front of his shirt like he wasn’t just seconds away from ruining my life.

“So we’re back to it being my fault then?” I push myself up to sit. “I didn’t force you to come to my window at night, Cade. In fact, I should be running for the hills because you do.”

“We’ve both made mistakes.” He shakes his head. “And we’ve both done things we shouldn’t have.”

“What a cop- out answer,” I scoff.

He shoots me a disapproving glare. “I think we need a fresh start, no? Perhaps…friends.”

My immediate reaction is to argue, because he has me on edge, and because no, I don’t want to be his friend. I’m not sure I can be. But the longer I let it ruminate, the more it makes sense.

It’s like he said…we’re impossible. Whatever this is will bring nothing but pain.

Friends.

“Okay,” I agree. “Friends.”

He smiles, his body relaxing into the couch cushion. “So, friend, tell me about your mother.”

Sighing, I lean back. I’m too tired to keep fighting and, if I’m honest, too afraid that if I stoke my anger, it will turn into something else. Something that makes me feel and blurs the line from this brand- new boundary we’re setting.

“You first,” I reply.

There’s nothing I want to do less than talk about my mom, but I do want to know about him. If I could, I’d dig inside his brain and carve myself out a little hole where I could live while I flip through all his memories.

He runs his hand through his inky black hair, his masculine hands flexing with the movement.

I bite the inside of my lip to keep from reacting the way I want to.

Friends.

“I never met my mom.”

I frown. “And your dad?”

“The closest I’ve ever had to family is a nun named Sister Agnes who would rather have had me die from one of her beatings than take up space in her orphanage.”

He says it so nonchalantly, like he’s telling me about the weather, but I recognize the hurt in his voice the same way I feel it in my own. And because of that, empathy hits me square in the chest. I know what it’s like to feel unwanted. Like you’re a plague to the person who’s supposed to care.

“I’ll be honest, I wasn’t expecting you to say that,” I jest, trying to get a smile.

His lips tip in the corner, so boyish and innocent it almost feels out of place.

I decide I like the way it looks on him, and I want to see it again. “So you were raised in an orphanage, no friends, no family?”

“That’s right.” He nods.

“What made you become a priest?”

He tsks, shaking his head. “I’ve answered your question. Now you answer mine.”

I cringe. “Do I have to?”

“Oui. This is just a tête- à- tête.”

Swallowing around my suddenly parched throat, I give in.

“My mom was…troubled.”

“Troubled how?” he questions.

“She had me young.” I shrug. “And I think sometimes when that happens, you don’t get a chance to grow up yourself before you’re expected to raise someone else. I think I fucked her up in a lot of ways. Made her bitter and angry.”

Cade’s face darkens. “Did she hurt you?”

I smile at him, emotion clogging my throat. “Depends on your definition of hurt.”

“Where is she now?”

I laugh, running a hand through my hair, wincing when it gets tangled in a knot. I take the end and start twisting it between my fingers instead. “Your guess is as good as mine. As far as I’m concerned, she’s dead.”

“Where’s Quin’s father?”

Sucking on my teeth, I lift a shoulder. “I’m not sure she even knew who it was. At least she never told me, but she never told me about my father either.”

“Tell me something else about her,” he pushes.

My heart pinches. “She had bad taste in men.”

“Something that seems to run in the family, no?”

Scoffing, I reach out and smack him in the chest without a second thought, a wide grin splitting across my face. “You talking about you or Parker?”

He chuckles, grabbing my hand and holding it against him. I can feel the warmth of his skin through his clothes. Can almost make out the defined pecs, hard as a rock beneath my fingers.

“Unfortunately, mon trésor, I’m speaking of both. Parker is…”

I wave him off, jerking my hand back and ignoring the way my stomach drops when I do. “You don’t have to tell me what Parker is. I already know.”

He nods, his fingers brushing along his jaw.

“This is nice,” I admit. “This whole friends thing. Is every one- on- one session gonna be like this? Not really the tutoring I expected, I’ll be honest.”

“Why are you marrying him?” he asks suddenly.

My mouth pops open. Out of everything he could ask, I hadn’t prepared for that one. Silly, really. The answer should be primed and ready to glide off my tongue like an oil slick. I haven’t told him about the investigation, that I’m a person of interest, and I’m terrified of it turning into something more. And the authorities have done an amazing job of keeping it out of the news, although I suspect Parker has a hand in that as well. I meet Cade’s eyes. “Because I can.”

Someone knocks on the door.

My stomach sinks at the interruption, and it drops all the way to the floor when Cade says to come in and Parker waltzes into the room.

“Mr. Errien,” Cade greets, crossing his leg over the opposite knee while he leans back.

“Father,” Parker replies stiffly. He turns toward me. “Ready to go, sweet girl? Your session ended ten minutes ago.”

“I didn’t realize you were picking me up,” I say, standing and adjusting my clothes. They’re uncomfortable, but I woke up to them being hand- delivered to my door, and I knew that meant I was to wear them without question.

Parker walks over, gripping my chin and pulling me in for a kiss. My chest compresses and I freeze in place, not wanting Cade to see Parker claim me so blatantly. His slimy lips against mine feel like poison, and flashes of the first time he forced his way into my mouth make nausea roll around in my gut.

“I’m taking you to my home today. Then we’ll talk about you moving in.” He beams.

Cade clears his throat from beside us and stands. “You two shouldn’t live together until after you’re wed. It’s not proper.”

I bite back the snort at him pretending to be the morality police of what’s proper.

Parker’s face turns to stone, and he spins toward Cade. “I wasn’t asking. I’m telling you that she’s moving in with me. Immediately. I’m putting up with all this other bullshit, but I won’t have my woman sleeping anywhere other than my bed.” Cade looks bored as he blinks at Parker.

“And don’t think I’ve forgotten about your little stunt yesterday during Communion,” Parker continues. “Making me kneel like some bitch.”

My eyes widen, head snapping back and forth between them.

Cade smirks, leaning his shoulder against the wall. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Parker reaches out and grips my hand, jerking me forward in his anger and twisting my elbow. I wince, and Cade straightens, the amusement dropping from his face as he locks on to where Parker’s tugging me behind him.

I shake my head slightly, silently begging him to just stay the hell away. He’ll only make things worse.

And when Parker drags me from the room and down the hall, I have to force myself not to look back.