Page 9 of Unholy Nights

If it weren’t for the boutique’s staff swarming the place like flies, I would have zero hesitation about tearing Emmitt Caldwell’s smug face apart, inch by inch, with my bare hands. I can still see it—the glint in his eyes when he looked at her, the way his lips curled in that self-satisfied smirk. It took everything within me to hold back, to play the part of stepfather. To keep my fury in check.

But right now? As I picture his face again, it takes a superhuman level of restraint not to turn the car around and hunt him down.

Why should I let him live? He’s nothing. He’s in my way, andnothingwill get in my way of having Emerald.

My rage churns and digs its claws in deep. Today, I slipped, and Ineverslip. I reached for her. Publicly. Carelessly. And for what? Fuckingjealousy. A fuckingneed. But more than that? Emmitt pushed me to my breaking point. He looked at her like he wanted to steal her from me.

The type of man he is, I know exactly what kind of poison was seeping through his thoughts when he looked at her like that. And the idea that someone so mediocre could even think about her that way, that something so beautifully fragile could ever be tainted by filth like him, is unacceptable.

I flick my gaze out of the windshield, watching Emerald get out of the back seat of her mother’s new Range Rover, her driver Anthony pulling off to park the car. She climbs the grand stone steps of the house we share, the house where I should already fucking have her. Where she spends her nights far too many doors away from me, in her perfectly polished cage, unaware of how close I’ve come to snapping every day that I wait.

I want to kill Emmitt for daring to keep even a memory of her when she belongs tome.

I’m not sure I can let it go.

I swallow back the bloodlust rising in my veins, forcing myself to think. Insomnia has been my constant companion since I was seven, since the night I learned that sleep meant vulnerability and vulnerability meant death. But I've made those endless dark hours work for me, turned them into weapons in my arsenal. While others sleep, I plan. I watch. I prepare. These sleepless nights have given me everything I have—my reputation, my power, my ability to protect what's mine. And now they've given me her.

His time will come. The problem with a man like Emmitt? He thinks he’s untouchable. And that’s going to be his downfall—believing that someone hasn’t already marked him for disposal. I’ll be patient, methodical, the way I always am. One foolish slip could ruin everything.

And Iwon’tlet that happen. Not when I’m so. Damn. Close.

Emerald’s new Range Rover pulls into the spot beside me. Anthony gets out without noticing I’m sitting here behind pitch black tinted windows getting my shit together before I enter the seventh circle of Hell and have to face my wife. My lip curls at my wife’s ‘gift’ for Emerald. Perfect, shining, obnoxious. It’s like everything else in this place.

A gift Emerald doesn’t even know how to drive.

Fucking Madeline. Even her name makes me want to throw something. The woman who brought me into this house, who paved the path to Emerald, but who now is nothing more than a particularly bothersome mosquito buzzing around my ear.

And speaking of the woman…

My wife is waiting in the foyer when I finally go inside, her arms folded across her chest, the picture of poised elegance wrapped in an icy veneer. There’s a sharp smile tugging at her lips, but I’d have to be blind not to see the irritation right there under her skin. She’s an expert at hiding her emotions. Unfortunately for her, I pay too much attention.

“Hello, Darling,” she says, her voice dripping with saccharine venom. “Doing a little shopping that couldn’t wait? Did I miss something? Or are we just ignoring lunch plans now?” Her gaze flicks toward the bag still swinging from Emerald’s wrist as she hands it off to her mother without a word, her eyes downcast.

“We’re running behind on the afternoon shoot now,” Madeline adds, her irritation barely concealed. “You both know how I feel about punctuality.”

Emerald doesn’t even notice me standing just inside the doorway as she quickly murmurs an apology and then disappears up the winding staircase toward her bedroom toavoid her mother’s wrath. I can barely resist the instinct to follow her with my eyes, to track her every step, but I hold myself back. I wait until I hear the softest click of her door shutting upstairs before I turn my attention back to my wife.

Madeline hates being late, and she’s absolutely right. Idoknow it. And the fact that I've thrown off her meticulously planned schedule today brings me a perverse sort of satisfaction. Just another reminder that she may think she is, but in reality, she's not in control here—not of me, and soon not of Emerald.

This woman is always playing games. Watching. Plotting her moves, expecting me to follow her every word like gospel. I’ve allowed it to this point as it’s gotten me here, right where I need to be. But she’ll soon learn the man she’s shared her house with for the last year isn’t even close to who I really am.

Madeline pats herself on the back every time she imagines her strings pulling me along, bending me to her will. If only she knew that the strings were never hers to pull.

Her eyes narrow a fraction more when I remain silent. I fold my hands in front of me, lean casually against the wall, and let one corner of my mouth lift with a smile I don’t mean. “Do you need something, Madeline?”

She tilts her head to the side, studying me with eyes that look all too much like her daughters’, except cold, practical. Calculating. The green in them reminds me of the icy ferns that coat the floor of the forest in our backyard. They’renothinglike Emerald’s warm summer grass green.

“Did you run into anyone while you were out?” It’s as if she’s asking about the weather, but that almost bored tone can’t fool me. She already knows about my run-in with Emmitt at the boutique.

I shrug, as though her question is too dull to consider. “Like whom?”

Her eyes narrow only slightly, but she covers it well, casting a glance toward the ceiling in Emerald’s general direction. “Emmitt was in town. Meeting with our suppliers. He mentioned seeing you. I thought maybe the two of you had a chance to talk.”

A smirk begins to tug at the corner of my lips, and I quash it. She thinks she’s so clever. What does she think I’ll tell her? That I essentially staked a public claim on her daughter in front of one of her business partners?

Does she imagine Emmitt would have been brave enough to tell her about all the details of today? She thinks she has her little pet doing her bidding, spying and reporting back all the details. I doubt he told her that the moment between him and Emerald could have cost him his life.

That he almost died today for looking at the wrong girl.Mygirl.

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