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She pads into the bathroom and brushes her teeth, brushes her hair, washes her face. The longer this mundanity goes on, the more tense I become.
Because I'm sure—absolutely fucking certain—that she's going to reveal herself.
If I watch long enough, she'll give herself away.
When she's done in the bathroom, Emery turns off the light and climbs into bed. There's a second where the video goes dark, the camera switching to night vision. Then she reappears in shades of white and green and black.
The sheet is loose around her waist. She's thrashing side to side, trying to get comfortable.
"You're too worked up to sleep, kiska,” I mutter. “You can’t stop thinking about it.”
There's no way she can be ready to turn out the lights and fall asleep. I’m as certain about that as I am about the rest.
Half an hour ago, she was begging me to fuck her again. How can she now be—
My train of thought grinds to a halt when I see Emery slide her hand beneath the waistband of her shorts.
She moves slowly. Exploring. Sighing between slightly parted lips. There’s no audio, but I can imagine how it would sound.
Her eyes close. She arches into her own touch.
And I know damn well who she's thinking about.
I close out of the app before I do something stupid.
Growling, I strip my clothes off and toss them onto the bathroom floor. I switch the shower on and don’t even wait for the water to warm up before I step in.
The frigid water washes over me. I force myself to breathe deep and absorb the brutal bite of the cold spray against my skin. To feel anything except this irritating, pulsing need.
But it’s no fucking use.
With my hand pressed to the tiles, I grip my dick and work out my frustration. Images flood my mind.
Emery twisting in her sheets…
Emery naked and bent over my dining room table…
Emery wearing the backless dress the night we met.
With a groan, I pump my momentary lapse in control onto the shower floor.
But when it’s over, nothing has changed. I’ve eaten my fill… but the hunger still remains.
* * *
I’m still toweling off my hair when I grab my phone and punch in Yasha’s number.
“Long time, no see, brother,” he says when he answers. “It’s been a few days.”
“I’ve been busy. Still am, actually. I need a favor.”
“I see how it is. You only call when you need something from me? Whatever happened to brotherly affection?”
I roll my eyes. “I have a deep affection for what you can do for me.”
“The thirteen-year-age gap really does give me a leg up.” He lowers his voice dramatically and puts on a rasp. “You merely adopted the technology; I was born in it.”
“Yeah, yeah, enough with the comic book voices. I need you to look into some phone records for me.”
“That’s it?” He sounds disappointed. “I was hoping for something a little more exciting. But whatever. Whose phone?”
“Emery Montague. I want to know if she has been talking to anyone associated with the Volandri mafia, including Malcolm Waters.”
“Wait, wait, wait, hold up, Adrik… are you asking me to spy on your future wife?”
“My temporary wife.”
He whistles. “That was quick. How long after that meeting with Father did it take you to finalize the deal?”
“She was already waiting for me in my office.”
He laughs. “My god, you work fast. Impressive. That’s why you’re the heir instead of me, I suppose.”
He jokes about it easily enough, but I still wonder how it must feel. How I’d feel if I was him. Second-born. Back-up option.
“Does that bother you?”
“What?” he asks, even though we both know what I mean.
“Does it bother you that I will be the don?”
He sighs. “Shit. A favor and a therapy session? On second thought, maybe I don’t want you to call me more often.”
I pass a tired hand over my face. “I’m not enjoying this any more than you are. But you are my brother. My responsibility. You deserve… more than what you’ve gotten. From the Bratva. From life in general. So if there’s something you want… I want to give it to you.”
He takes a deep breath. “Well, anyway, I’ll look into this for you. Anything else?”
Not such a subtle topic change. But I allow it. “No, that’s it. Just let me know what you find.”
“Of course,” he says. “Later, brother.”
I hang up, and without thinking about it, check the cameras in Emery’s room once again. It’s like a compulsion.
I expect to see her asleep after fingering herself to thoughts of our frantic fucking in the dining room.
But she’s not.
Matter of fact…
The bed is empty.
