Page 21 of Killing Emma

“I don’t have the truth,” he rasps, a husky grovel in his voice as his lips move against my fingers. “But I’m going to kill you, Emma. There’s no question about it. I always finish what I start.”

I nod, feeling hot tears well up in my eyes. “Okay.” I drop my hand, disappointment heavier than fear. Whatever the tension in the air is that I feel, it’s not something he feels, too. I’d never kill someone that made me feel so… alive. But then again, maybe it’s the fact I'm flirting with my own death that's got me feeling this way.

However, now that he’s answered the question, I know the bathroom window is my only shot at surviving this. No one else will ever know I’m gone. Not at this point anyway. I pull away from him, but his grip tightens in my hair.

“Let me go, or just fucking kill me already,” I snap at him, desperate to stop breathing in the same air as him. Surprisingly, he drops his hand away, freeing me from him. I roll away immediately, scooting until my back is against the wall, as far away as I can get in the moment.

His shadowy figure doesn’t move, and I can barely make him out in the darkness. “Who kidnapped your grandmother?”

I blink a couple of times. I guess he paid more attention than I thought, though the question was strange. “Um, some mobster… I can’t remember his name. They gave him the money and he went away.”

“What was your grandmother’s name?”

I shift on the bed. “Shouldn’t you know this?”

Silence.

“Eleanore Nightingale,” I finally answer anyway. “I don’t remember the year it happened. I just know that it was after my father was born.”

“And your father is dead now?”

Well, he’s not one to beat around the bush.

“He killed himself when I was fourteen,” I say blankly, staring at the dark figure. “My mother passed away a few years ago. She was sick.”

“So you’re alone?”

I wipe the tears from under my eyes, thankful for the cover of the darkness. “Yeah. I’m alone. No one will know I’m gone.”

He sighs. “I will.”

Of course, adding a part of me to your fucking trophy closet in celebration afterward, probably.

I let the sob slip on accident as he drifts away, and I slap my hand over my mouth to stifle it, embarrassed. A breakdown was bound to find me, but it feels like letting him win again. I listen to the basement door slam closed with more force this time, and I wait a few more seconds before I lose it, crying uncontrollably. And it’s not because he wants to kill me. It’s the loneliness preceding my death, and the lack of life I lived.

If I can slip through that window, I’ll never shut the world out again.

I swear.

Chapter Ten

Luca

“Fuck!” I explode, hurling the ceramic plate across the kitchen. It shatters as it hits the black tile backsplash and I suck in a deep breath, my hands flying to my face. Why does she make me feel shit? Why does she touch me?

I leave the broken plate where the pieces land, and surge out of the kitchen, passing through the living room and to the stairs that set off to the left of the main entryway. This house isn’t all that big, and I told myself I’d stay on the first floor while I had Emma here.

But I need to get away from her.

It’s nearly dark out now. Thirty-five days turn to thirty-four. She’s been here less than forty-eight hours, and she’s already wrecked my head. What is it about her that bothers me so much? It’s not just that she’s attractive. I know that. I’ve been with women. I’ve killed women who would be considered some of the most beautiful in the world, but Emma has wormed her way into my brain.

And now she’s all I can fucking see.

I charge into my bedroom and slam the door, running my fingers through my hair. She fucking touched my face, and I liked it. I don’t let women touch me when they feel like it. No, sex isn’t like that for me. I take what I want, and I leave. I know I’m a dick, but I don’t pretend to be anything other than just that.

Maybe I do need to get laid.

But the thought of another woman wrapped around my cock has it going soft.

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