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I had my father’s killer under my nose the entire time. How could I have made such a huge mistake as to assume it had been Jackson? Why did I allow so much time to pass?
I could have followed them to Europe. Could have ended it all within days.
However, the moment I saw Emily, I made up my mind to draw it out because I wanted her. So I avoided anything that could jeopardize my chance.
I should just killhimand be done with it. Letherlive. No one would know.
Only, that’s not true.Iwould know Jackson is innocent. I’ll have spilled his blood all because why? Because I want her? Because I’ve grown obsessed with her?
Because I can’t stand the idea of never seeing her alive and happy and brilliant again?
Justin knows too. If he were to ever speak about it to anyone, I’d be the one seen as the traitor who let a Gianni family member’s murderer go.
Emily turns her head slightly so that her profile comes into view. “Are you going to kill me?”
“I haven’t decided what your punishment will be.”
She pulls away from me so hard, I finally lose my hold on her and she drops to the floor with her pants around her thighs. Instinctively, I reach for her. But before I can touch her, she turns to me and her expression stops me in my tracks.
“I trusted you,” she whispers.
“You shouldn’t have,” I sneer. “I warned you.”
“You said you’d hurt me.”
I’ve killed many men before. Have held a gun to their head and stared into their eyes before I pulled the trigger. Yet I’ve never experienced someone dying at my hand withoutactuallydying.
As I stare into her electric-blue gaze, it dulls. Like a dying fire, where you can still make out the color, but it’s grayed out by shadows.
I can hardly breathe as I watch her candle go out. Something heavy and unpalatable sinks to the pit of my stomach. But I can’t afford to feel right now.
A single tear rolls down her cheek. As if surprised, she wipes it and peers at the wetness on her fingertip.
She blinks several times, her confusion evident. “You said you’d hurt me,” she repeats, then, swallowing hard, lifts her muted gaze to me.
Unable to bear the sight of her bright soul in shreds, I reach for her and lift her to her feet. “While I decide what your fate will be, you will remain my guest here.” I push her into the bedroom. “I suggest not trying to escape. That will only make up my mind for me quicker.”
“How long will it take if I don’t try to leave?” she asks, and I don’t miss the tone of sarcasm in her voice that I’ve never heard before.
“However the fuck long I wish it to. A day, a month, or even a fucking year.”
“My father will look for me,” she threatens. “He may not be a criminal like you, but he has friends in high places.”
“Not high enough.” With that, I slam the door shut.
* * *
For an entire day, Emily remains locked in the bedroom while I watch the door. Waiting.
I want her to make the next move. I want her to come out and beg for forgiveness and mercy. Without that move, I can’t make mine. I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place, immobilized by my own inability to lift a hand against my enemy.
My phone buzzes with texts from my capos. Updates on contracts and shipments. Sylvia calls several times, leaving me messages I refuse to listen to because they’re all the same.
“When will you do something about Shaw? I want revenge. Dammit, Noah, this is taking too long. Call me.”
Yes, it has taken too long. Never would I have allowed so much time to pass with anyone else. But because it’s Emily…
Out of my peripheral, I spot something on the floor beneath the couch. I tug it out to find it’s Emily’s sketchbook. The graphite pencil she was using is still pushed between the pages, marking the one she was working on.
