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Chapter Six
Emerson
I’m done.
I have to leave. I’ve been surviving through sheer force of will for days. White knuckles. Gritted teeth. A low-level panic that won’t stop, no matter what I do.
Along with that, Will’s at risk.
I knew he would be, but Daphne’s message only confirms it.
I’m going to finish my painting.
Eventually, she’ll find me. If she doesn’t find me at my house, she’ll keep looking. She has the Morelli money behind her. The Morelli name. If it’s not Daphne who finds me, it’ll be another Morelli. A more violent one. One of the brothers, probably, though from what I’ve heard, I wouldn’t put it past Eva Morelli to break my kneecaps either.
The escape attempt was doomed from the start. Part of me always knew that. Perhaps it will be possible to convince her that she’s better off without me, but it won’t happen like this.
I wait until nightfall. Will’s been gone for forty-five minutes to another meeting. In a technical sense, this is keeping my promise. I can’t live like this, so it’s time to go.
I’m not taking Will down with me.
Snow blusters in the city, catching in the neon lights. The glow from the pollution is a curved boundary overhead. Cars move like silent ships, the sound of their tires muffled by the snow.
I walk fifteen blocks from Will’s apartment and call my driver.
It takes Logan half an hour to arrive. His expression is as professional as I’ve ever seen it. I’ve given him no information about Daphne in case he’s questioned. His saving grace in all this is that he doesn’t live on the property. I bought a smaller house across the street.
“Any stops on the way home?”
That’s his only question. “No stops, Logan. Drop me off at the edge of the property. Don’t go inside the gate.”
He drives for several minutes in silence.
“I can go with you into the house,” he offers, eyes avoiding the rearview mirror. It doesn’t matter that I haven’t told him about Daphne. He already knows the stakes. Logan can, and has, doubled as a bodyguard. I’m not interested in that kind of escalation tonight.
“No need.”
Other than the threat of imminent attack from the Morellis, it’s a peaceful drive. A semblance of normal vision returns. Being in the SUV has a calming effect on my nerves. Still, when Logan drops me off, it’s all I can do not to run for the front gate.
I don’t run. I keep my composure. New snow has fallen since I left for Will’s. It’s a fresh, blank slate in my front yard. A new canvas.
I climb the front steps and go in.
The door wasn’t locked, and I didn’t expect it to be. Not with all those agents rifling through my things. I shut it behind me and lock it. Abandon my coat on the table in the foyer.
My first full breath in days feels like a miracle. And it feels like a punch to the gut. Daphne’s not here. The house echoes with her absence. I begin to flatten down the feeling, but my vision follows it, my own home becoming less real.
This is going to hurt like a motherfucker.
All of it. When the Morellis find me, it’s going to be a gruesome scene. Missing her is worse. I miss her like an empty gallery. I miss her like my heart has been torn out.
I miss her like I love her.
It’s an ache that goes across my entire chest and wraps around my heart. It is not distant. It’s all there is. I’ll never be able to untangle Daphne from my love for art. It’s one and the same, heightened by being with her for those two weeks. By finding her. By following her.
By falling for her, like a fool.
In the dark of the house, I consider my options.
