66. Cohen

66

COHEN

W hat I wanted was a stiff drink. What I needed was a good fuck. After I finished what I started back in college.

I knew she wasn't bleeding. She may have been hiding for the last five years but that didn't mean I stopped keeping track of her ovulation cycle. No, bending Emily over my knee was more about making a point. Reminding her I owned every part of her. And being bratty wouldn't earn her any favors.

That shit wasn't cute anymore.

I had no doubt she'd be knocked up with my next kid by month's end, if she wasn't well on her way already. She'd give me that little piece of herself I'd been missing and I'd figure out what to do with its mother later. That didn't mean shit was forgiven and forgotten. The details might have been a little obscure but none of it changed the fact she'd been whoring around on me for nearly a decade.

Didn't matter if she knew I was watching her or not. She should have felt it. Just like I felt her down to my fucking bones, so ingrained I couldn't take my first real breath until we were in the same room again.

I hiked my bugout bag on one shoulder, pushing through the door before slamming it in place again. I already knew I had a runner and I wasn't in the mood to be mowing anyone down.

Tomorrow might be a different story. There was something to be said about the chase, about that first whiff of fear permeating the air.

Emily didn't say a word as I stalked over to the metal table I had bolted to the floor and dropped my bag on top. The sound of me wrenching open the zipper broke the silence before I shoved a hand inside. Tugged out the blue dress I'd pulled out of storage and tossed it in her direction.

"Put it on." My tone should have been enough to warn her it wasn't an option, but Emily's smart fucking mouth had always been her biggest flaw.

"Why?"

"Can't have the mother of my child walking around bare-assed where any old creep could see."

"I'm locked in a room, Cohen. The only people seeing shit are the ones you're working with."

"Exactly my fucking point. A buncha creeps." I didn't bother looking up as I laid her dinner out on the table. She needed more protein. I'd let her snack on nuts when she wasn't too busy emptying mine.

She'd gotten too fucking skinny without me around to make sure she ate, her collarbone protruding out of her neckline and barely any meat left on that ass. Which was just something else we had to rectify. Had to plump her up a bit so that shit jiggled when I gave it a decent slap. Couldn't risk her having another miscarriage because she didn't know how to take care of her-fucking-self.

Then again, that's why she had me. To make sure she did what was expected of her for the next nine months or so.

I dragged the new chair I brought her across the room—metal, in case she got anymore bright ideas about stabbing me in the remaining eye this time—and dropped it in front of the table before gesturing for Emily to sit.

She mumbled under her breath while yanking the blue fabric of the dress over her head and smoothing it around her body. Taking slow, begrudging steps forward until her ass was firmly planted on the seat.

"Eat."

Another command she was remiss to follow until the contracting of her abdominal muscles, the body's way of ensuring its survival, had her reaching out a hand and plucking up one half of the sandwich I'd made for her. Prosciutto and provolone. She needed the sodium.

I also knew it was her favorite. Because I paid attention.

"See how much better things can be if you just do as you're told, pet." I slid over to perch myself on the edge of the desk. My legs spread out in front of me and my arms crossed over my chest. I still had a blade tucked into the pocket of my tac pants but I'd wait to see if she needed to find out the hard way again.

"I'm just hoping that if I eat quick enough, I'll choke. Or maybe today's my lucky day and the shit's actually poisoned." Emily's lips curled into a sneer as she bit down on the bread and tugged roughly with her teeth. Likely pretending she was tearing into some part of me instead.

That was fine. Like I said, she could hate me as much as she wanted. Shit was so close to love I might as well be dropping down on a knee.

"Don't speak with your mouth full, Emily. It's not polite." My grin grew as her scowl deepened. And I had to admit it was a nice change of pace.

I finally understood why Casper liked getting under my skin so fucking much. Shit was entertaining. Damn fucking cathartic.

I reached into the bag, pulling out a bottle of water and popping the cap. I took a long swig before passing it to Emily. "Unfortunately, this isn't poisoned either."

She swiped the bottle out of my hand, nearly draining the whole thing in one long gulp.

I swiped it back and slammed it on the table. "Slow or you're gonna make yourself puke."

"Thanks, Doc. Where would I be without you?"

I lifted a shoulder. "Probably married to some small-dicked prick in a cheap suit. Who'd throw your legs in the air, forcing you to stare up at a dusty old ceiling fan while faking your way through orgasms. Night after night, year after year, until one of you died."

"Guess I'm lucky you decided to kidnap me, then, huh?" she countered, her voice dripping in the kind of sarcasm I ate for breakfast with a glass of whiskey to wash it all down. Emily shot me another glare, and before she could look away again, I grabbed her chin with my thumb and index finger, wrenching her face in my direction.

"You have no fucking idea how right you are, pet. But you're about to find out."