Page 51 of Unholy Nights

"I'm trying, but..." Her voice is barely a whisper now. "She's getting angrier. I can hear her."

"Listen to me very carefully." I slide behind the wheel, the engine roaring to life. "Go downstairs. Smile. Be polite. But do not let him touch you. I'm five minutes from the house."

"Hurry," she whispers. "Please."

I end the call and floor the accelerator, the Aston Martin's engine snarling as I weave through traffic. By the time I walk into the dining room ten minutes later, I've already imagined a dozen ways to make the Montgomery heir disappear.

They're gathered in the formal dining room when I walk in, and the sight turns my vision red. Daniel has positioned himself next to Emerald, practically on top of her as he talks, one hand resting on her arm. She's frozen in her chair, eyes fixed on her empty plate, her shoulders curved inward like she's trying to disappear. Madeline presides over it all from the head of the table, radiating satisfaction.

"I hope I'm not interrupting." The words come out soft, controlled, despite the rage coursing through my veins.

Daniel glances up, and whatever he sees in my expression makes him snatch his hand off Emerald's arm. Smart boy.

"Cohen." Madeline's voice drips with artificial warmth. "Daniel was just telling us about the luxury spa chain his family's launching. He thinks Emerald would be perfect as the face of their wellness campaign."

I move behind Emerald's chair, my hand settling on her shoulder. The tension in her body melts the moment I touch her, and she sinks back against my fingers like she's finally able to breathe again.

"I'm afraid Emerald's schedule is quite full," I say, my thumb stroking the side of her neck where I left marks last night that she’s covered with makeup. "In fact, we have a meeting right now that we're late for."

"We do?" Emerald asks, then quickly adds, "Oh, right.”

"Actually," Daniel starts, but I cut him off with a look that promises violence.

"It wasn't a suggestion." I pull out Emerald's chair. "Shall we?"

She stands immediately, but Madeline's voice cracks like a whip. "Sit down, Emerald. We haven’t even served lunch yet."

I feel Emerald tense, torn between her mother's authority and my protection. But I've had enough of this game.

"Emerald," I say softly, "go wait in my car. We have that meeting with the new years’ collection photographers." An easy lie—Madeline's obsessed with the website's content, and she'd never risk Emerald missing something that could affect her precious brand.

She catches on immediately, nodding and hurrying from the room. Smart girl.

Once she's gone, I turn to Daniel. "Leave. Now. And if you ever come near her again, they won't find enough of you to bury."

He opens his mouth to protest, but something in my expression must convince him I'm serious. He stands, straightening his tie. "Madeline, I'll call you later to discuss—"

"No," I say. "You won't."

"This is ridiculous," Madeline snaps, rising from her chair. "Daniel, please sit down. We haven't—"

But Daniel's already backing toward the door, his eyes darting between me and Madeline. Smart boy—he's figured out which one of us is the real threat.

Once Daniel scurries from the room like the cockroach he is, I turn to Madeline. She's gripping her water glass so tightly her knuckles have gone white.

"You're making a mistake," she says, her voice trembling with rage. "Daniel could have given her everything."

"Everything?" I laugh, the sound dark and hollow. "You mean he could have givenyoueverything.’

"How dare you—"

"No." I cut her off, planting my hands on the table and leaning forward. "How dareyou. How dare you try to sell your daughter to a man you know has a history of abuse. I wonder what your shareholders would think if they knew what you really do to maintain that perfect family image."

"She has obligations—"

"Her obligation today is to your brand. Unless you want to explain to your board why the holiday collection's face disappeared right before launch?" I straighten, adjusting my engraved cufflinks. "I'm sure they'd love to hear how you prioritized a lunch date over their bottom line."

The mention of her precious brand hits its mark. Her lips press into a thin line, but I can see her mentally calculating the costs. "Have her back by dinner."

---