Page 43 of Killing Emma

“Well, you’re the one sitting here claiming some prick who chose his secretary’s pussy over you actually loves you. It’s borderline in-fucking-sane. Maybe I overestimated—”

“Shut up,” I snap at him. “You think because I opened up and told you things that you suddenly know everything about me. You’ve known me less than a week. Someone can cheat and still… I was a bad wife.” I start to lose my thoughts, spiraling. “You’re gaslighting me.”

Luca slams his fist into the counter, causing me to jump. “Just stop justifying his actions, Emma. I swear, you’d probably blame yourself even if you weren’t in denial.”

“I’m not in denial.”

“You’d argue with God, Himself, wouldn’t you?” Luca shakes his head, his voice growing with anger. “Just go back to the basement and sulk a little more, beating yourself up for everything but your own actions. I have shit I have to take care of.”

I clench my hands at my sides, trying to come up with something to say, but words elude me. Instead, I just stand there, staring at Luca. His focus is on the sink, leaning against his fists. The muscles in his arms are taught, his jaw tense as he closes his eyes.

“I just didn’t think he had it in him,” I whisper, my mouth blurting out feelings I never intended to share. “And I guess maybe I want him to love me.” I don’t know why I’m giving him more to hold over my head, but he’s the only person I’ve ever told my darkest thoughts to—and it’s strangely therapeutic. Even if he hates me more for it.

Luca breathes in deep, his expression painful as he meets my gaze. “Why do you want him to love you?”

“Because at least then someone does.”

“Sometimes it’s freeing for no one to love you.” Luca holds my gaze. “It was the best fucking thing that ever happened to me. Love is weakness.”

That hits a nerve.

“You’re miserable, tortured, and no matter what you say to me, you’re clearly not happy,” I say, teetering back onto my heels. “You hate yourself.” I don’t know why I lash out, but his answer isn’t what I wanted to hear… Not that I know what is.

“You didn’t know the me before I met you,” he chuckles, pushing up off the counter to stand straight again. “And if I had done what I was supposed to, I wouldn’t be in this mess. It wouldn’t matter who was behind this hit. You’d be dismembered in a ditch somewhere, and I’d be three million richer—not arguing about your piece of shit husband.”

“Ex,” I whisper. “He’s my ex.”

“He’s not your ex for thirty-one days.” Luca’s voice is curt. “So I guess you can add cheater to your list of attributes, too.”

“Fuck you,” I sneer. “Asshole.”

Luca’s brow raises. “I can drop you off at his place, yeah? Maybe then you can feel loved.”

I glare at him. “You want me to record it for you? I think he has a security camera, too. Maybe we’ll just kiss and make up. Maybe you can get off later to it.”

“Only thing I’d be getting off on is your dead fucking body,” he growls, his eyes darkening in a way that make my heart flip-flop in my chest… with excitement.

I’m so fucked up now. Maybe I am unstable.

But I want to push him further. “You wouldn’t be able to kill me. I guess we all have our weaknesses. Mine is wanting to be loved, but yours?” I pause. “Yours must be me, and I think you’re just jealous.”

“You know what, Emma?” Luca crosses the kitchen faster than I can suck in a gasp of air, and I throw up my hands, bracing for impact. But he stops an inch shy of my palms. “You’re right. I’m about to go to war for you, and you have the audacity to sit in my fucking kitchen and tell me how you want him to love you. And you know, all I can think about is choking the life right out of him—after I cut his dick off.”

I search his face, my chest heaving. “I…”

“Don’t fucking say a word,” he sneers. “I don’t care to hear whatever explanation you have for this. One more fucking comment, and I might not find it so hard to take the light right out of those pretty ocean eyes of yours.”

I pushed way too hard.

“Okay,” I mutter, dropping my hands. “I’m sorry, Luca.”

“Say it again.” He takes a step toward me. The heat of his body is overwhelming, and I take a step back, running right into the wall.

“I’m sorry,” I repeat myself, excitement quickly morphing to fear.

He closes the distance again, cupping my chin in his hand. “No, say my name again, Little Red.” His thumb drags across my bottom lip.

“Luca,” I nearly whisper as my thighs clench. He dips his lips to mine, and I go for the kiss, chasing after his mouth—but he denies me.

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