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His chuckle is deep, and I know he’s imagining all the twisted shit the two of them have got up to.
“She’s not even reading her messages. She’s just worried.”
“Em’s fine. I left her sleeping.”
“You’re not home. It’s like… eight in the morning.”
“I got called in for a job,” I lie. Well, not entirely. I guess you could say keeping our fucking prisoner alive was a fucking job. One I’m very close to failing at.
“Okay. Well… just get her to call Stel back. She’s driving me craz— Ow. Baby, was that fucking necessary?” he barks, his voice getting quieter with every word.
“Where’s my girl, Cirillo?” Stella snaps down the line.
“In my bed, getting some rest. Chill the fuck out, Princess.”
“I will when I know you haven’t strangled her to death.”
My teeth grind at her tone.
“I haven’t killed her, Doukas. Calm your fucking tits.”
“Get her to call me. I’m worried.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Don’t start that shit. You already know what I’ll do to you if you hurt her.”
“Yeah, yeah. I heard it loud and clear. We good?”
She grumbles some kind of agreement before cutting off the call.
“Nice talking to you too,” I mutter to myself as the lift descends through the building.
Pulling up my home security app, I tap on the cameras I’ve got installed throughout my flat and start searching for her when I discover the bed is empty—and left in a fucking mess.
My left eye twitches at the sight, but that’s nothing compared to what I find on the other cameras.
“For fuck’s sake, Ramsey,” I mutter, angrily stuffing our phones back into my pocket and marching toward my car.
* * *
I suck in a breath a second before I press my hand to the pad beside the door and push it open.
I’m fucking exhausted, but I know I’ve got a fight on my hands. There always is when it comes to Emmie.
I’ve let her get too close. I’ve allowed her to see exactly what makes me tick and showed her exactly how to get a rise out of me.
The click of the locks is loud, and I have no doubt that it alerts her to the fact that I’m home.
I’ve barely shut the door behind me when she appears at the other end of the hallway, still wearing the shirt I put her to sleep in, but she’s added a pair of my sweats which annoyingly make her look hot and cute at the same time. She looks so small with the fabric bunched up at the waist. Fragile, breakable. And fuck if that doesn’t make my mouth water.
“Ah, husband. How nice of you to grace me with your presence. I’ve tended to the house for you,” she sings in a saccharine sweet voice that sets my teeth on edge.
“I’m glad to see you’re awake.”
Her head tilts to the side. “Are you?”
I move faster than she’s expecting, my hand wrapping around her throat as I slam her back against the wall.
