Page 44 of The Monster and the Masochist

Would asking her to do something like this be leading her on? Would it hurt her when the case was over and I no longer needed her?

Why did the thought of hurting her like that make me feel sick?

Shaking my head, I pinned Cal with a stern look.

“No. It won’t work. I need a husband. This dude is a traditional religious nut job. He’s not going to be any happier with me marrying a woman than he is that I’m single.”

As soon as I said the words out loud, I winced at how fucked up that was.

Both Cal and Ryan looked just as disgusted as I felt.

“Well, that just makes it better, doesn’t it? He said he didn’t want to be represented by someone hot and single, because it might look bad considering he’s clearly some disgusting predator.” Cal said this with a low growl, and I could tell by the look on his face that he was already thinking of how many ways he could kill the man.

Ryan sensed it too and subtly reached out to curl his hand over my brother’s clenched fist. Cal visibly relaxed, as if Ryan’s touch were some sort of calming balm.

“Cal’s right, Cassandra. No one would think the reverend was involved with his attorney if they were in a same sex marriage. Marrying Theo would actually be an excellent way to stick it to this asshole… It’s malicious compliance. You love malicious compliance.”

He was right. I did love that shit. To my core, I was petty as fuck. If they were going to make me literally get married to be taken seriously, it would be super satisfying to do it in the most petty way possible.

But still.

There was the issue of Theo and her feelings.

I wasn’t used to really taking the feelings of others into consideration, but there was just something about Theo that seemed to soften all the hard, cold parts of me that I used to protect myself from a world that had never been kind to me.

“I don’t know. This feels like a really bad idea. This feels like… I don’t know, like I’m using Theo.” My voice came out softer than I intended as I imagined Theo’s big, dark eyes and how sad they could sometimes get when she thought no one was paying attention.

Ryan reached out and clasped my hand, giving me a firm squeeze. I met his warm, brandy eyes, and for a moment, I could see how this man had tamed the whirlwind that was my brother. There was something so solid about him.

“It’s not using her if you make it clear from the get-go what this is. If you lay out the terms clearly, and she agrees, that’s her decision to make. Give her some credit. I know she’s a flirt, but first and foremost, she’s your friend, Cassandra. She’s going to want to help you if she can. She cares about you.”

I knew she cared about me. That was the problem.

I would ruin that woman if she let me get too close to her, and the thing was, I think she wanted to be ruined… And the thought of that terrified me.

“Fine.” I sighed. “I’ll think about it.”

Iwas hours late for the fight strategy after my little impromptu meltdown.

The problem with using booze as a coping mechanism is that it’s a very temporary solution. The next day was usually wrought with what I privately called ‘the fear,’ and today was no exception.

I was anxious and shaky as I slowly made my way back home to shower.

As I scrubbed the shame from my body in the hottest shower I could handle, I fought off the constant onslaught of self-deprecating thoughts that always seemed to consume me after I had a slip-up like this.

It was even worse today as I couldn’t seem to decipher whether I’d actually seen Samwell at that event or if I’d just hallucinated him.

By the time I’d cleaned myself up, brushed my teeth, and thoroughly rinsed my mouth out with Listerine, I was so late for my meeting with Jerry that I didn’t even bother heading to the cafe. I knew he would have given up and gone back to his office at the ring.

I let myself into the back of the venue and slunk down the concrete, industrial hall that led to Jerry’s office with my tail between my legs.

He wasn’t going to be impressed, and I knew I deserved whatever tongue-lashing he was going to give me.

I’d stopped to grab a muffin on the way, and it tasted like freaking cardboard as I forced it down my throat, hoping the carbs would help soak up whatever vodka was still left sloshing around in my stomach after puking my guts up in the cemetery.

The crappy, hollow steel door that led into Jerry’s office screamed on its hinges as I pushed it open, and I winced as the ungodly sound aggravated my already unbearable headache.

Jerry was sitting behind his disheveled desk, and I squinted against the flickering fluorescent lights that lit up the dingy space.