Chapter 33
Chapter Thirty-Three
Sitting in the car next to Emmanuel as he drives is starting to become one of my favorite things to do.
There’s something sexy about the way he drives, or maybe the vibrations of his fancy car are what’s turning me on.
I look at Emmanuel’s hand on the steering wheel.
His other one is on the gear stick. Nope, it’s definitely him. Those dark, tattooed hands are hot.
Then again, it could be the memories of how those hands work their magic on my body. I’m not sure it matters at this point. I’m almost ready to tell him to pull the car over and let me jump on his dick for a while.
Before I can make the suggestion, he turns onto the circular driveway and stops out front of Charlotte’s casino. “Thanks for the ride,” I tell him.
Emmanuel looks at me, really looks at me. Then he draws out a card and flicks it in my direction. “Room 666. Go straight there,” he says.
“Why?” I ask, looking at the card.
“Because you are mine, and right now, you need something that only I can give you. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I let you go… unsatisfied?” he asks.
“Still not my boyfriend. And I’m more than capable of satisfying myself. Pretty sure you’ve seen proof of that.” My cheeks heat, but I fake the bravado I don’t feel.
“Go to the room, Evie,” Emmanuel says.
“Go to hell, Emmanuel,” I counter. I don’t know how many times I have to tell him I’m not a dog.
“I’m already on my way there, but before I arrive, I’m going to enjoy heaven as much as I possibly can.” He winks. “Just in case that wasn’t clear, heaven is your pussy.”
“Yeah, I got that.” I roll my eyes and get out of the car. I take the card. Because as much as I like to give him shit and want to stand my ground, he’s right. I am horny, and I know if I meet up with him, I will be leaving one very satisfied woman.
As soon as I walk through the front doors of the casino, any plans of meeting up with Emmanuel go out the window when I’m jumped by an overexcited Charlotte. “Oh my gosh, I’ve been waiting forever for you,” she says. “I can’t believe you’re finally back.”
“I only just left.” I laugh. Honestly, if it weren’t for the store burning to the ground, I wouldn’t be back here. The thought of everything I’ve lost hits me, and I hold on to my friend a little tighter.
“Are you okay? I’m so sorry about the shop. I know it was your dream, but we can rebuild, right?” Charlotte asks. “And you are safe. I mean, you weren’t in the store—thank God.”
“It’s going to be okay,” I say while wiping a stray tear from my cheek.
“Oh, Evie, shit. Okay, we’re going to work through this together. We’re going to find you a new location, and I’ll even help you go through catalogues for more stock,” Charlotte offers.
“You hate looking at dresses,” I remind her.
“But I love you, so I’ll suffer through it.” She smiles.
Charlotte’s gaze falls behind me, and I turn my head to see Emmanuel walking through the glass door with Paz right by his side. His eyes immediately find mine, and I give a little shake of my head.
“Do you think he has a tracker planted under your skin or something? That man is always wherever you are,” Charlotte says under her breath.
I wouldn’t put it past Emmanuel. I mean, if he could, he probably would put a tracker on me.
“Or that man is your husband’s friend so that’s why you see him around a lot?
” I suggest. Linking my arm through hers, I lead Charlotte towards the elevators, walking straight past Emmanuel and Paz.
“Besides, I think the sidekick is way hotter,” I add loud enough for both men to hear and then give Paz a smirk. He just shakes his head at me.
“Shh… they can hear you,” Charlotte hisses.
“That’s the point,” I tell her. When I look back over a shoulder, Emmanuel is glaring at me. I give him a smile and I see his face soften ever so slightly. But I know he’s mad, and probably has a case of blue balls because he thought he was about to get laid.
Maybe Rachel was right. Maybe coming to see Charlotte is exactly what I need. When we get up to Charlotte’s penthouse, she shows me to the guestroom. “Are you sure you don’t want me to get you your own suite? Louie won’t mind.”
“Do you not want me here?” I ask her.
“Of course I want you here,” she says.
“Does your husband want me here?”
“My husband wants me to be happy, and you being here makes me extremely happy. So, yes, Louie wants you here.” She smiles. “Now, want to get drunk and forget the world?”
“Absolutely.” I nod. I need that. To forget the world, and day-drinking with my best friend is just the way to do it.
I throw my bag down on the bed and take out my phone. A text from E is already on the screen. I open it and skim the message.
E:
I’ll destroy anything that competes with my ability to have you completely.
My brows furrow. Is he talking about Charlotte?
He better fucking not be threatening my friends.
But then, like a lightning bolt, it hits me.
An awareness that he is legitimately insane sends me into a panic.
It was only a few hours ago that he told me he had burned Amy alive.
I shoved that deep down, because for some reason, the man has a hold on me and it seems my morality knows no bounds when it comes to him.
Me:
My friends are off-limits, Emmanuel. Do NOT touch them.
That is one thing I will NEVER be able to forgive you for.
Also, don’t fucking threaten them again, because I might be tiny, and I might not like violence.
But when it comes to those I love, I will become the person who digs holes all over the desert.
My fingers tap across the screen in rapid succession. “You okay?” Charlotte’s concerned voice has me looking up.
“Uh, yeah, just some asshole who has the wrong number,” I tell her, putting the phone back in my pocket.
I feel the vibration of another message. As much as I want to ignore it, I can’t stop myself from looking.
E:
Flawless and fierce. And MINE.
I roll my eyes as I shove my phone back into my pocket. He can sit and read for a while. “Whatever is bothering you, I hope you know I’m here for you, always,” Charlotte says.
“I do know,” I tell her. “Ditto.”
I follow Charlotte into the kitchen, where she retrieves a bottle of chilled white wine and two glasses. We then head to the living room. Charlotte pours us both a very healthy serving of wine.
“So, tell me, how is it being married to Las Vegas’s bossman?” I ask her.
Charlotte blushes and smiles. “It’s… amazing.”
“So, aside from his dick, what else is amazing about him?”
She appears to consider my question while taking a sip from her glass. “I’ve dated a few guys. But I’ve never felt loved the way Louie loves me.”
“I’m really happy for you, Charlotte,” I say.
“You know, one day, it’s going to happen for you too,” she tells me.
I look away. I hate lying to my friend. But I’m already dumping my problems on her. It’s not fair to add my dating life to that list. “Mhm, maybe.”
“Who is he?” she asks.
“Who is who?”
“The man you’ve been fucking. I know you better than you know yourself, Evie Carter. I know you’re seeing someone,” Charlotte insists.
“Seeing isn’t really the term I’d use.” I shrug, taking a huge gulp of the wine, followed by another and another, until the glass is empty.
“What’s the term you would use, then?” she presses.
“I don’t know. It’s… complicated.”
“How so?”
I sigh. “I’ve been a horrible friend, and I’ve been lying to you,” I admit.
Charlotte’s eyebrows draw down in confusion. “About what?”
“About the person I’m seeing.”
“As long as it’s not my husband, I don’t care who you’re dating, Evie. I just hope he makes you happy,” Charlotte says.
I laugh. “Definitely not your husband.”
“I know.” Charlotte nods. “I trust Louie.”
I raise a brow at her.
“And I trust you,” she’s quick to add.
“Good, because I would never do anything to hurt you,” I tell her.
“Yeah.” Charlotte gets a distant look on her face. She caught her sister fucking her ex-fiancé the day before the ceremony. She ended up running off to Vegas and then met Louie. The rest is history, as they say.
“So, you really don’t care who I’ve been sleeping with?” I ask her.
“No. Why would I care?”
“It’s Emmanuel,” I whisper, like saying his name out loud might just make him appear.
“WHAT!” Charlotte jumps up, her voice rising with her. “Are you insane? Emmanuel, as in the cartel boss Emmanuel?”
“Wait… You just said you didn’t care who it was,” I remind her as I refill both of our glasses.
“That was before I knew you were in bed with a madman,” she says.
“He’s not mad,” I huff.
Charlotte tilts her head and stares at me.
“Okay, fine, he’s a little insane. But he has good qualities too,” I tell her.
Charlotte plops back down next to me on the sofa. “I’m sorry. I just… I want you to be safe. I want to keep you alive for as long as possible. We have old people plans, remember?”
“I remember. We’re going to get houses next to each other, with rocking chairs on the porch, and we will watch our grandchildren play together.” It’s the same scenario we’ve dreamed up for years.
“Exactly. Do you really see Emmanuel sitting in a rocking chair on a porch?” Charlotte asks.
“Do you see Louie doing that?” I fire back at her.
“Yes, in a perfectly-fitted three-piece suit.” She smiles wistfully.
Can I see Emmanuel in my future?
“I’m not saying he’s going to be the forever guy, Charlotte. I’m just saying he’s the right now guy.”
“From what I hear, if Emmanuel Lopez wants to keep you forever, he will, and there’s not a damn thing anyone can do about it,” she tells me.
“I’m more scared of the fact that I might actually want him to keep me,” I whisper. “He knows.”
“He knows what?”
“Everything. I told him. I thought it would push him away. It didn’t.”
“Of course it didn’t. Nothing that happened to you is your fault, Evie,” Charlotte says. “It does not deter from the beautiful soul you are. Not one little bit.”
“Can I tell you something? You can’t tell anyone. Not even your husband.” I look at her.
“Anything,” she says.
“He found the doctor who did the procedure on me when I was sixteen. He killed him,” I whisper into her ear, not wanting anyone else to hear me.
“I think I just found a reason to like Emmanuel.” Charlotte smiles.
“He’s determined to find them all…”
She nods. “And another reason to like him. Good.”
“Like I said, you can’t tell anyone about us. I told him I wanted to keep it on the down low here. And I don’t want to take away from your honeymoon bliss. This is your time to shine, Charlotte.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. We can shine together. But I won’t tell anyone,” she says, holding up her pinkie finger.
I link mine through hers, and we shake on it. I couldn’t even count the number of secrets we’ve shared like this. But none of them have ever been about murderous boyfriends.