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5
ADRIK
She steps out onto the street like a dreamer lost in a nightmare. Eyes flickering up and down the sidewalk, seeing threats in every shadow.
She’s not completely wrong in that regard.
When she sees my vehicle, she frowns. As if she can’t quite make sense of what she’s seeing. Like I’d show up in anything less than the best.
The Escalade is armored, equipped with every aftermarket upgrade known to man. Artisan craftwork in every stitch and bolt, state-of-the-art technology humming behind every panel.
Emery takes a deep breath, steels herself, and then she and Isabella cross the street quickly.
I press the button above the back door as they approach. It slides open smoothly and silently, though Emery still jumps and yelps at the sudden motion. She clings to the handle of Isabella's wheelchair, ready to flee.
I give them a brusque jerk of the head. "Come on. Let's go."
A chair lift lowers down, unfurling in front of them like an accessible magic carpet. Isabella's eyes go wide with wonder. “This is for me?”
Emery doesn’t answer. We were just on the phone, but she is gawking at me like she's surprised to see me.
Isabella turns her chair towards her mother. "Mama, where are we going?"
She blinks and comes to her senses. “We’re, uh… I haven’t really…” She scrambles for an explanation before giving up. “We’ll talk about it in the car, okay, sweetheart? Go get on the ramp while I grab the bags.”
Isabella wheels herself forward. I climb out to help with their bags. It’s not much, just two duffel bags and a fuzzy rainbow pillow with huge, embroidered eyes.
“I can get those,” she says, reaching for them.
I wave her away. “Don’t. Unless you’d prefer I occupy my hands with something else.”
She eyes me. I see the thought spiral across her face: I wonder what that would be like. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think Ms. Montague is having dirty thoughts.
“The fucker must have left through the back,” I infer.
She nods. “He left through the sliding glass door after we hung up. Ran out, basically."
“Coward.”
I had my men watching Malcolm from the moment Emery walked out of my office. When he left in a drunken stupor, it wasn't hard to guess where he was headed.
It took him long enough to talk the landlord into getting a key that I could have just kicked the door in and taken her by force before he got there.
But I’m no rapist. I take what I want, yes, but I want her to choose this. And one way or another, she will.
It’s just a matter of eliminating her other options until I’m the only one left.
Once Isabella is in the van, Emery straps her wheelchair into the floor and to the hooks in the ceiling. The SUV is big, but between the wheelchair and their bags, the only open seat is in the back seat.
Right next to me.
I grab a remote from the center console and hand it to Isabella. “You can use this to control the lights.”
She presses a button excitedly and the ceiling glows pink. The little girl gasps and then proceeds to smash every button, turning the interior of the car into a disco.
“Easy, Bella,” Emery warns in her best mother’s voice. “We don’t want to break anything. It’s not ours, remember?”
Something about that makes my cock twitch. The maternal instinct, the nurturing—it’s so different from my world. Laughably so.
Which makes it all the sweeter that I’m about to plunge this little angel into an ocean of darkness.
“Yes, it is." I nod to Isabella. "It's a gift. From me to you."
Emery forces a nervous laugh. "He's only kidding, Bella. Be a good girl, okay?"
I wrap my hand around her wrist. She tries to pull away, but I squeeze tighter.
"Good girls keep their hands to themselves." I drop my voice and ask, "Are you a good girl, Emery?"
Isabella is so busy playing with the remote, she doesn't even notice our struggle in the backseat.
Emery yanks her hand back and glares at me. She doesn't look as grateful as I think she should, considering I just sent Malcolm running with his tail between his legs. She shifts away from me, facing out of the window.
If she can’t bear to look at me, that’s fine. It gives me plenty of time to look at her.
The dress from earlier is gone, but my cock doesn’t care for a dress code. The leggings she’s wearing do a fine job of putting her on display. The material wraps around the slim thighs that I could only guess at underneath the dress earlier.
Soon enough, I’ll be well acquainted with them.
Soon enough, I'll map her every curve with my fingers.
Soon enough, I’ll have those legs wrapped around my waist and those lips moaning my name.
But right now, there’s a child in the car. Pulling Emery into my lap and ripping her leggings open at the seam isn’t an option.
I drag my eyes up. Her hair is falling out of its bun almost forlornly. I wonder if Malcolm did that.
Then I shove the thought aside. I can’t be bothered to climb out of this car and hunt him down. It’s too late to worry about disposing of a body tonight. He’ll get what he deserves soon enough.
“You can't tell her things like that," Emery says suddenly. “That the car is ours. I mean, it’s not—”
“If I say it is, then it is."
“That’s not how things work.”
“It’s how my life works. Example: I wanted you to marry me, and now, look where you are?”
She frowns as the lights around us shift from red to purple and back again. Isabella giggles behind us. “We haven’t discussed details.”
“On the contrary, we did. Or have you forgotten?" I ask. "Let me remind you: you were being assaulted by a drunk fucking pig, and I proposed marriage as your way out of hell."
She lunges forward and grabs my arm. Her eyes are wide. I’m not sure if that’s because of what I said or because she realizes she’s touching me again. Her fingertips are cool against my skin.
With a grunt of frustration, she lets go and tips her head towards Isabella. “She doesn’t… she’s too little. I don’t want to confuse her.”
“Very well,” I nod. Then I lean forward. “But remember this: the next time you grab me, I’m grabbing back.”
Even in the strobe light flickering overhead, I can see the crimson staining her cheeks. Emery presses her knees together like it’ll hold back the tide.
“How did you even know Malcolm was there?” she whispers.
“I have my ways.”
