Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Ithink I need my head examined. Excitement fills me. I have butterflies at the thought of going on an actual date with Emmanuel. He wouldn’t tell me where he was taking me, just that it was a nice restaurant. It’s been a good reprieve from thinking about the store and everything I’ve lost.
I also haven’t had a reason to get this dolled up in a while. I might have gone overboard on my appearance tonight, but I don’t want to embarrass Emmanuel in public. I want him to be proud to be seen with me. I also need to feel good about myself, and looking good always helps me stay calm.
I was surprised and excited when he showed up at Rachel’s house.
I know he said he was coming, and I didn’t doubt him.
I just didn’t expect him to make it so quick.
I don’t know how to not want to fall into the comfort he offers me.
Right now, I need someone to be a brick of support, and he’s doing that. Without me having to ask him to.
I’ve given this man plenty of opportunities to leave me. And he won’t.
Because you look like her. That nagging voice in the back of my head keeps popping up, reminding me that I’m not Emmanuel’s true love. I’m her replacement.
“Holy shit.” Emmanuel walks into my bedroom.
I’m sitting on the end of the bed, tying the straps of my gold heels around my ankles. Emmanuel squats down in front of me, pushing my hands out of the way. He takes hold of the strap of my shoe and fastens the buckle. His hands linger on my ankle.
“You look fucking breathtaking, mi alma,” he says while his fingers travel up my calves.
I’m wearing a red bodycon dress that ends just above my knees. There’s a small split in the back and the neckline is square-shaped, showing a good amount of cleavage in a non-trashy way. I curled my hair, leaving it to fall over my shoulders.
“Thank you.” I look Emmanuel up and down.
His dark hair is styled to perfection, almost too good. I want to run my fingers through it just to mess it up a bit. I love when his hair falls over his forehead. And he’s wearing a fitted-to-perfection three-piece suit. Then again, he always is.
“You don’t scrub up too shabby yourself,” I tell him.
“Thanks. You ready?” Emmanuel stands and holds out a palm to me.
“Sure. But this is our first date. Don’t expect to be getting into my panties tonight.” I smirk as I accept his hand.
“It’s not your panties I want, Evie,” he says.
“That’s good, because I’m not wearing any.” I laugh and walk out of my bedroom.
“What? Fuck. Wait. Stop!” Emmanuel calls out after me. I’m halfway down the hallway before he catches up. His arm wraps around my waist and he tugs me towards him. “Seriously, Evie? No panties?”
I nod. Emmanuel’s hand snakes up the inside of my thigh.
My back is flush with his chest. When his fingers reach my bare pussy, he groans.
I almost tell him to forget the date when he slides those fingers through my folds, only to pull them away again.
Without another word, he straightens my hem and lets go of me.
I turn to look at him over a shoulder, watching as he sucks those two fingers clean.
It’s hot. Damn it! Why do I have no self-control around this man?
“You know, if you play your cards right, I might just invite you in for a nightcap.”
“Mmm, I’m looking forward to dessert,” Emmanual says, his eyes dark and full of lust. “Let’s go, and keep those legs closed. If anyone gets even a glimpse of your pussy, I will kill them.”
“I know you don’t usually do this whole dating thing. But most girls aren’t impressed by threats of murder, E.” I pat his chest.
“Good thing you’re not most girls,” he replies, taking hold of my hand. “And that wasn’t a threat, Evie. It’s a promise.”
Why does his possessiveness make me so insanely horny? He knows my worst secrets, the darkest part of my life, and he still wants me. Why?
Because you look like her. I shove that voice down a second time. I don’t want to let doubt ruin tonight.
When we walk into the restaurant, I’m relieved I went overboard on dressing up. This place is swanky as hell. It’s probably the nicest restaurant I’ve ever seen. I’m nervous. I plaster on my pageant smile and grip Emmanuel’s hand as we’re led through the posh interior.
When the waiter opens the private room, I look around, stopping at the entrance. Emmanuel glances back at me. “You okay?” he asks, eyeing me up and down.
“Uh-huh.” I nod, that same smile still on my face.
Emmanuel frowns but continues to follow the waiter into the room. His hand wrapped around mine. When the waiter goes to pull a chair out for me, Emmanuel steps in front of the kid. “I’ve got it,” he grunts.
“Of course, Mr. Lopez. We have wine and entrées ready for you as you requested. I will be back to collect your orders for the main course.” The waiter lowers his head and walks out of the room, closing the door behind him.
I sit down and look around. The entire room is lit by candles. There are vases of red roses everywhere. The table is a small two-seater. Emmanuel sits across from me.
“This is really beautiful,” I tell him. I’ve been on dates before, but this is next level.
“It was last minute. I can do better. I will do better for you,” he says as he inspects the room.
“This is perfect. I don’t need better, E.”
“Why did you have that fake smile on your face, then? When we walked in?” he asks. “I don’t ever want to be the recipient of that smile, Evie. I only want your real emotions looking back at me.”
“I’m nervous. It’s not you, or this place. I swear this is the most romantic date I’ve ever been on, and it’s only just started. I just don’t want to embarrass you. I don’t want to do the wrong thing.”
Emmanuel laughs. “You think you could embarrass me, mi alma? Never.” He shakes his head. “You are the best thing I’ve ever owned. There is nothing you need to do other than be yourself.”
“First, you don’t own me. And second, I’m the second best you’ve dated. I’m not her, E,” I remind him, already hating the fact that I’m jealous of a dead woman.
A woman he killed, I need to remind myself of that.
Emmanuel fills my glass with red wine. He doesn’t say anything, just stares at me.
It’s not until he finishes filling his own glass that he looks away.
“I know you’re not her. I don’t want you to be her, Evie.
I want you to be you.” His eyes meet mine again.
“I love you, every single part of you. I love you more than I ever thought it was possible to love another person.”
“Did you love her?” That’s the response I give after having him declare his feelings for me? I’m a bitch, but I can’t say those words back to him. Fear has a grip around my heart, and I can’t bring myself to let go that much.
“I thought I did. I guess in a young, teenage way, I did. I wanted to save her,” he admits.
“What happened to her?” Why would he want to save someone he killed? And why am I okay with the fact that he killed her? Okay is a strong word. I’m not okay with it, but I’m also not running for the hills.
“When I was sixteen, my father ordered me to kill her. He told me love was a weakness that needed to be killed before it killed me,” Emmanuel says.
I gasp. “That’s awful.”
“I thought I could get her out, give her a new identity, money to leave town and never come back. I was going to lie to my father and tell him I did it,” Emmanuel says.
“I’d put her up in an apartment. She was a street kid, like Louie, Carlo, and Sammie.
I was taken to live with my father, but I came back to Vegas as much as I could to see her.
I thought I hid her well. The only people who knew about her were my mother and my friends. ”
I don’t interrupt. I get the feeling he hasn’t had this conversation before.
“I finally had her papers ready and went to the apartment to tell her my plans. I was too late, though. I found her on the bathroom floor with a needle in her arm. She overdosed. On purpose. I tore the needle out of her arm, and she looked up at me and said she killed my weakness so I could become the greatest.”
Emmanuel doesn’t appear sad when he recalls the events, but there is something about the way his face changes. I can’t pin it.
“I thought it was my father’s doing. That he got to her somehow. I never once thought that my mother would have been the one…”
“I’m sorry,” I tell him. “You should not have had to go through that kind of loss, especially at such a young age.” I breathe in a lungful of air. “Do you still miss her?”
“I…” Emmanuel stops. “I like that she’s dead, Evie. It’s fucked up, but I buried her in an unmarked grave. No one knows where she is. No one could take her from me again because she’s dead. I liked that.”
I blink, unsure what to say, what to do. “Why did you tell me you killed her? You didn’t kill her, E.”
“I failed her. It’s the same thing.” He shrugs.
“No, it’s not,” I tell him. “I failed my baby. I couldn’t protect the baby growing in my own body. Is it my fault it got killed?”
“What? No. You had no choice. Nothing that happened was your fault, Evie. You didn’t fail. You were abused,” he says between gritted teeth.
“Then Laura dying wasn’t your fault either.” I’m relieved I know the full story now. I’m not consciously dating someone who killed their girlfriend. Makes me feel a little less insane.
“I won’t fail you, Evie. I will always protect you,” Emmanuel says.
“I don’t need you to protect me. I just need you to listen and give me space when I need it. And maybe be patient with me. I’m broken in so many ways I don’t think I’ll ever be whole.”
“I will be the glue that holds your broken pieces together,” he says. “I have a gift for you.”
“A gift?” I smile, only to drop it when he pulls out a small velvet box. No, this isn’t happening. Is it?
No. He’s not that crazy.
“Relax, it’s not a ring.” He chuckles.
“I wasn’t worried,” I lie.
“Yes, you were. But just so we’re clear, it will be a ring one day soon, Evie,” he says.
I take the box from his hands, expecting a pair of earrings or a necklace. My brows furrow when I open it to find a small vial filled with red liquid. “What is this?” I ask, plucking the little glass bottle from the box’s lining.
“The blood of the doctor who performed that procedure on you when you were sixteen,” he says.
I drop the vial back into the box. “What did you do?” I look up at him. My hands shake.
“I killed him, and I have a long list of names who will be joining him in hell soon.”
I shake my head. “I don’t want you to do this, Emmanuel. I don’t want you killing people for me. No.”
“There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you, Evie. This, getting vengeance on your behalf, is something I need to do. I enjoyed it, seeing the pain on his face, seeing the life drain from his body. He deserved so much worse for what he did to you.”
“You can’t do this. Please just let it go.” I shove the box back towards him. “I don’t want this.”
“Would you have preferred a ring?” He lifts a challenging brow.
“Yes,” I deadpan. “Because I don’t want people’s deaths on my hands. I don’t want people to die because of me.”
“They’re not. They are dying because of their own actions, not yours,” Emmanuel says. “Try the wine. I think you’ll like it.”
“Why? Is the cup filled with the blood of my enemies too?” I mumble.
“No, but it can be if that’s what you want.”
“I don’t,” I say quickly. I pick up the glass and take a sip of the sweet liquid.
Damn it. He’s right. I do like it.