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Thirty-Two
Blaine searched Emilia’s gaze,trying to piece together whether her panicked state was something new or something that had been simmering in the background for a long time. He didn’t have to guess long, not since he’d sensed her fear from the first moment they’d reunited.
At the time, a part of him had decided it was he who scared her. Maybe that wasn’t too far from the truth, but as always with Emilia, she hid more under the surface. More he didn’t know.
“Just knowing me puts you at risk.” She twisted away, palm reconnecting with her now glistening brow.
“Why? Because Anthony couldn’t take no for an answer and ran you out of home?” His hands curled at his sides. Anthony had destroyed everything Blaine loved. The man deserved to hurt for every lie, threat, crime, and stolen second Blaine had dreamed of having with Emilia.
Some men didn't deserve to breathe. Anthony was one of them. And Blaine wouldn’t let a bottom dweller like that guy ever stop him again. “I’m not afraid of him.”
She shook her head, still not looking at him. “Frankly, if it weren’t for my absence reflecting badly on him, I’m sure Anthony wouldn’t care if he never saw me again. No. My absence isn’t why he’ll be out for revenge. It’s because he stole money. Lots and lots of money. I stopped him.”
Blaine struggled for purchase over his thoughts. Piece by piece, Emilia’s words and puzzling behavior fell into place––why she’d kept him at arm’s length, why she’d fought him at every turn and, most times, seemed to want to keep to herself.
He’ll want to find me, Blaine. He’ll want to hurt me. He’ll be angry enough to kill me.
Oh God, and those words replayed in his head too. He thought she was being dramatic, merely referencing the fact that she’d left. Anthony wanted to kill her. Emilia. Someone so incredibly sweet and gentle she’d put years of her life aside just to keep the peace. What sort of tyrant would want to hurt her?
Blaine wandered over and placed his hand on her shoulder, gently, God knew she deserved every soft gesture in the world. She spun her gaze around, wide and catching to his.
“Say all that again for me. Slowly.” He kept his tone even, controlled, letting her know that he would believe everything she had to say.
“What?” She let out a breathy whisper, her open expression hinting that she’d expected some other response. Rejection maybe. Or anger.
One day, she’d learn that he wasn’t a bitter and rude asshole, that he shared no similarities to Anthony, that from now on, she sure as hell would not be dealing with anything alone.
“I need you to start from the beginning. What did Anthony do? How are you involved?”
Her throat bobbed in the wake of a deep swallow. He held her focus, giving her time before she nodded, seemingly resolute. “When I left LA, I took only one suitcase and the clothes on my back. After what he’d attempted the night before, I figured I would well and truly burn my bridges, so during my escape, I left behind a folder for him to find. A folder full of evidence of him having stolen Bonacci funds and, therefore, orchestrating large-scale corporate fraud.”
“Whoa. Hang on a minute.” He took a second to close his eyes, to let this new information filter through, to take some slow and steadying breaths because he already knew she was right about one thing. Things were about to change for them.
He gave her a small nod to continue, not quite ready, but needing to hear the rest of this story either way.
Her attention fell to the tiled floor, her thick curls tumbling about her face as she did so. “Anthony, being the boss’s son-in-law and all, held an upper-management role at Bonacci Jewelry. A few months back, I overheard him on the phone explaining a missing transaction to an employee. I’ve known him long enough now to recognize when he’s lying. I didn’t even need to see his face for his long pauses and backtracking to lead me to looking into the company accounts.
“He’d abused his senior position to drain huge amounts of company money, writing false bills while claiming missing funds as bad company debt. From what I could find, he’d been at it for years. Meanwhile, he transferred what he’d stolen into a secret bank account, assuming no one would ever notice.”
A heavy rhythm pounded in Blaine’s head at Anthony’s sheer audacity. Not only had he openly cheated on and abused Emilia, but he’d also done it while exploiting his cushy and ill-deserved job.
The man had everything and more than Blaine had ever wanted, which had only ever been Emilia, and still, none of it had been enough.
Anger crushed his confusion––a more useful emotion than simply stumbling in the dark for an unattainable answer. There was no justifying why men like Anthony acted the way they did. All he knew was that his fingers burned to wrap around that rat bastard's throat, to crunch some bones, and revel in the sound of that “man’s” strangled breaths.
Hurting Anthony wouldn’t make up for the missing years and damage, but hell, it would feel good either way.
“No wonder you ran.” Those words were the grossest understatement he’d ever uttered, but he didn’t want to scare Emilia with what truly went through his head. His new daydream of subjecting her ex-husband to slow and painful torture…
“How much money did Anthony take, by the way?”
Her gaze met his, almost a little too coolly. “Somewhere over thirty million.”
His muscles turned slack before a new level of tension worked through his body. Not a day had passed where he didn’t relive Anthony’s revenge over what he perceived was Blaine stealing Emilia, even though she’d never expressed any kind of interest in him.
How would the guy react to her foiling his plan to steal thirty million dollars? Thirty million dollars he no doubt figured he’d stolen fair and square, much less the legal ramifications now his secret was out.
“Is that everything I need to know?” The words slipped hollow from his mouth. God, he really did hope that was it.
