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Silly man.
I lifted my head and cupped his cheek. “Don’t apologize. He’s not suffering anymore.”
“Did you know about him seeing doctors for his…delusions?”
“No. I never had a clue. I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact his parents knew he was crazy and never said a damn word. Why didn’t they...”
“Why didn’t theywhat?”
“Say anything,” I scoffed. “But I already know the answer…” Easing back, I peered up at him. “You recorded everything, right?”
“Yeah. Why? What’s going on in your gorgeous mind, darlin’?”
“I know we have to call the police—”
“And an ambulance. That lip of yours needs stitches. Plus, we need to find out what side effects you might have from the drugs he was knocking you out with.”
“I know, but before we do all that, I’d like to call my parents.”
Grant arched his brows in surprise. “Why?”
“I need them to see what he did to me, and hear his plan.”
“All right,” he nodded, pulling out his cell phone. “Under one condition.”
“What condition?”
“I’m not leaving you alone with them for a single second.”
“I don’t want you to.” I smiled, then leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek with the good side of my lips.
“I love you, Emma,” he murmured, tapping the speaker option before setting the phone in my hand.
“I love you, too…Sir.” I winked.
A low, sexy growl rumbled in his chest as I quickly punched in my father’s number before I lost my courage.
“Hello?” he answered cautiously.
“Dad? It’s me.”
“Emma? Oh, thank fuck,” he said in a shaky voice. “W-where are you, honey?”
Tears stung my eyes. He hadn’t called mehoneysince I was six.
“I’m h-here…in New Y-york,” I said, trying not to fall apart. “I need you c-come...”
Grant gently lifted the phone from my hand and cleared his throat.
“Mr. Bishop, my name’s Grant Holden. Emma is fine…or rather, she will be, but there’s been an…incident involving Wesley. The police need to be called, but Emma wanted to speak to you…and your wife, first. Can you two come to the Battery?”
“Yes, of course. Give me the address,” my father impatiently demanded.
I wiped my cheeks and sucked in a deep breath while Grant rattled off our location.
“Got it. I’m sorry, who are you…how do you know Emma?” my father asked suspiciously.
“I’m Grant Holden,” he replied, peering down at me with a sad smile. “Emma and my sister, Aubrey, were roommates at Columbia.”
