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He smirks. “It’s probably filled with Montesano DNA.”
A laugh bursts from my chest. “You’re an asshole.”
“Am I wrong?”
Shaking my head, I enter the guest room, not wanting to confirm or deny Benito’s statement. Emberly lies on the bed wearing a fluffy white robe with bandages on her hand and foot.
I sit on the edge of the mattress and twine my fingers through her curls. “Are you awake, sweetheart?”
Her eyelids flutter open, and she groans. “What happened?”
“You fainted. I brought you downstairs and tended to your wounds.”
She squeezes her eyes shut. “My head hurts.”
“A hangover,” I reply with a fond smile. “The alcohol must have finally worn off.”
“But I was mostly sober this morning when I woke up.”
“Jim Callahan was at the gates with a warrant for your arrest,” I say as a distraction. “I drove him back, but it looks like he wants to return with a court order to search the house.”
She flinches, her eyes flying open. “Oh shit. I’ve got to get out of here.”
I place a hand on her shoulder. “And go where? He’s probably staking out your home.”
She flops back on the mattress, defeated, exactly where I want her. With the blackmail material we found on Capello’s hard drive, no judge would ever approve a search warrant for my house. As long as she stays here, she’s completely safe. From Callahan, at least.
“What did you do to earn four cop cars and a small army of officers?” I ask.
She makes a strangled noise. “Nothing.”
“Emberly,” I say. “Don’t forget, you’re putting my freedom at risk.”
“I upturned a table. That’s it.” She pauses for so long, I wonder if she’s fallen asleep. “But the gallery owner says I stole an antique spoon.”
“That’s it?” I ask.
“I swear,” she rasps.
I stroke her cheek, feeling skin smoother than velvet. “It looks like your ex is desperate to get you under his control.”
She nods.
“And he won’t stop coming after you until he’s got you handcuffed and kneeling at his feet.”
She shivers.
My fingers slide down to her jaw, and I study her delicate features. Beneath this veneer is a personality more complicated than I expected. She’s passionate, impulsive, and jumps to astute conclusions.
There’s a part of her that understands my intentions are nefarious, but she could never guess what I really want. The detectives we hired told us she spent her childhood with a single mother and has no clue about the identity of her real father.
Keeping Emberly will require more than sweet words or locked rooms. She’ll do anything to secure her freedom, which I can use as leverage. The best way to handle her is to give her what she wants while emphasizing what she doesn’t.
The cop seems to frighten her more than the prospect of staying here, so why not use that to my advantage?
“I know a guy who makes fake IDs so convincing they’ll pass any background check,” I say. “They’ll take a few days to complete, but after that, you could disappear.”
She finally raises her head and gazes up at me through tear-streaked eyes. My heart twists with a sick sense of envy. The only man who should make her shudder and cry is me.
