Chapter 44
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
E MERALD
I pack a small bag. I don’t need much for the Bahamas—just a few bikinis, shorts, and tees. And I don’t know why, but I make sure I take the chessboard keychain as well.
And then I get the kids ready to go. The whole time, I fight back tears. I only came back here this evening to collect the kids’ bags. It was planned all along that they would spend the two weeks after the wedding at Jacquetta’s while I was on honeymoon in the Bahamas. And after a whole ton of persuading, Jacquetta convinced me to go on the honeymoon by myself, telling me that I need a break to get over everything.
But I can’t stop thinking about the conversation I had with Saint.
Why did I think it might be different?
He said he’s trying. What does that even mean? He’s trying to what?
Fix things?
Fall in love with me ?
But I just can’t do it. Because the things he said—being lucky to have me in his life—sliced what little was left of my heart to ribbons. Because that’s not enough for me anymore.
I usher the kids down the hall and down the stairs. The younger two are looking forward to their mini-vacation at Jacquetta’s place, and even Milena seems to be happy with the idea, probably because she considers Jacquetta to be another older sister.
This is the right thing to do. This is the only thing to do.
I can’t stay with him. Because what’s broken between us isn’t fixable.
But if that’s the case, why does it feel like someone’s ripping my chest open again? Why is guilt gnawing at the insides of my mind, ready to tear me apart? I watch as Saint’s home fades into the dark night.
And before I know it, we’re sitting outside Jacquetta’s mansion. Jaspar, Milena, and Giulietta climb the stairs to the front door with a wave, and Jacquetta ushers them inside with a knowing nod to me.
I take a deep breath, moving my hand over my stomach.
“Where to?”
“Um…” I pause. It’s late, and I have a room booked at a hotel next to the airport for tonight because the flight is early tomorrow morning. But I don’t want to be by myself right now. The walls of the cab close in, and I can feel panic settle in my chest, its icy claws clutching at my throat. “Can you drop me off at this outlet mall?” I ask through gritted teeth as my chest labors faster. I shove my phone at him as I try to remain calm. In control.
The driver arches a brow but nods. I relax into the backseat. Tears burn my eyes, and I blink furiously to keep them back. This is for the best.
It has to be.
And yet, that voice in the back of my head, the one that clings to some flicker of hope, tells me it’s not. Saint might lose it when he sees I’m gone, and maybe a small part of me wants him to be a wreck like I am, instead of his cool and indifferent self. But that only fuels the guilt strangling me.
We’re not done, not by a long shot. His words rattle around in my brain until I squeeze my eyes shut. We are. We are done. There’s nothing left of what we could have been.
“Miss?”
I open my eyes and realize the cab’s stopped. “Right. Sorry.” I dig through my purse and pay him.
I step out into the frigid air, wheeling my small case behind me. The outlet mall is still bustling and brimming with shoppers. I take a deep inhale, pulling my jacket a little tighter around me.
I pick a store at random to browse in. After walking around both floors and looking at some beautiful crockery, I step out of the store and wonder which one I should go in next. People are strolling around, browsing, sipping coffees, and laughing softly. I should feel at ease.
But I don’t .
There's this... prickling on the back of my neck.
A weird sensation like I’m being watched.
I throw a casual glance over my shoulder. A man stands a few stores down. Dark jacket, dark pants, hands in his pockets.
He could be waiting for someone. It’s totally normal.
I shake it off and walk on.
After a few more stores, I dart into a gift boutique, pretending to examine a display of candles. The sweet scent of vanilla and cinnamon is almost overwhelming, but I welcome the distraction. After a few minutes, I peek through the glass storefront.
But he is still there .
Leaning against the railing outside. Still waiting. Still watching.
And I know that’s definitely not normal. My heart gives a stutter. Why the hell did I think I’d be okay for one evening without Saint’s bodyguards? Crap , crap , crap .
A bead of sweat rolls down my spine. He has to be one of Carmine’s men. They’ve finally caught me by myself. And now they’re going to grab me. Oh shit !
I pretend to look around for another minute before slipping out the side entrance and cutting through to the opposite side of the courtyard. I duck into a boutique selling athletic wear, heart pounding much harder now. Maybe it’s a coincidence. Maybe I’m being paranoid...
My hands shake as I hover near a rack of leggings, watching the entrance through the mirror above the checkout counter.
The bell chimes.
He enters. Slowly.
My stomach flips, bile rising in the back of my throat.
He doesn’t even look at the clothes—just scans the store like he’s searching for something. For someone. For me .
I crouch down on unsteady legs and pretend to look at socks.
I clench and unclench my fists, trying in vain to stop the shaking. Okay, Em, deep breath…
I dart across the aisles and rush out the other door, speed-walking now but trying to look normal. I don’t want to cause a scene. I don’t want to overreact. But every instinct in my body is screaming at me to get out of here.
I spot a small store across the path—lace dresses and pastel handbags in the window. I push through the door and try to calm my breathing. A young woman behind the counter gives me a polite smile. I nod, wiping my sweaty palms against my outfit, then head toward the back, crouching behind a rack of long skirts.
The door chimes again.
I don’t even need to look.
He’s here .
My breaths are coming in shallow pants now. And I really feel like I’m going to vomit. I fumble with my phone, hands shaking too much to type in my passcode right away. I finally get it open. And I swipe to the dial pad to call for help.
But then I feel it.
And I jump out of my skin as a huge hand seizes my arm in a vice-like hold.
I scream out.
But not a single sound passes my lips. Because fear has stolen my voice and run away with it.
I whirl around, my eyes wide and trying to focus on the man before me as my vision blurs.
And he’s right there, too close, his grip tightening. “Keep quiet, or someone will get hurt,” he snarls as he starts to drag me out of the store.
Panic surges through me like a flood.
“Let go of me!” I scream, finding my voice and ignoring his words. My voice is high and cracking.
A security guard shouts out. “Hey!” And from somewhere behind us, I hear his sharp voice of authority. “Step away from her. Now .”
“She’s just my girlfriend,” the creep says smoothly. “We had an argument, and I’m just trying to say sorry to her.”
“That’s not true,” I say in a loud voice. “You know I, er, have a restraining order against you. Get away from me. Or I’m, um, calling the cops…” I cross my fingers behind my back, knowing that my lie doesn’t sound convincing.
The security guard is tall, uniformed, and has a walkie-talkie crackling at his hip. He lasers me with an assessing look, like he’s not sure who is telling the truth here. But then he nods at me and turns to Carmine’s goon. “You need to leave right now, or we’ll have to call the police,” he growls at him.
The goon lets go of me instantly and tries to melt away like it’s all been a misunderstanding, no doubt to bide his time until he can try again.
But the guard is already towering above him. “You need to leave the entire mall. I’m banning you for the next twenty-eight days.”
Another security guard arrives and starts to escort the goon away. He tries to protest, but the guard clamps onto his arm and leads him out, nodding to the store assistant on the way.
I stand there, frozen, until he’s gone.
“Don’t worry, miss,” the first guard reassures me. “He’s gone now. My sister had to get a restraining order against her ex, but the scumbag still tries to contact her all the time.” He shakes his head. “Are you okay?” he asks more gently.
I nod, but my voice is buried somewhere under the fear and adrenaline.
“Yes,” I finally manage. “I think I am now.” I sink onto a small bench by the dressing rooms, heart still hammering.
The security guard approaches me again a few minutes later. “He has been escorted out of the mall.”
I nod again, thanking him and exiting the store.
I was supposed to stay at the hotel tonight, but I know I’ll be safer staying in the mall. It’s a twenty-four hour one, so there’s always shoppers and security guards around. I can get a cab to the airport later. That’s a safer plan than staying in a hotel tonight—because right now, the thought of being all alone in a hotel room utterly terrifies me. What about if one of Carmine’s thugs tries to slip into the hotel room while I sleep? All they would have to do is get their hands on a key used by the housekeeping staff. My blood runs cold at the very thought. No, I’m just going to stay at the mall and then mill around the airport—that’s a much better plan.
My hands shake as I slip into another fancy boutique. I can feel the eyes of the sale assistants on me and offer a polite smile, hoping I don’t look like the mess I feel.
I browse the racks, my fingers skimming the silky fabrics. They’re pretty dresses. Expensive and luxurious. Just the kind of thing that I like.
Licking my lips, I hurry toward another rack, then another.
There are cameras. Assistants. Security.
The incident with Carmine’s goon has knocked me off kilter. That and everything else going on with Saint. Because Saint has pushed me to feel out of control and spiral like this. He came into my life and screwed it all up with his sexy smirk and pretty lies.
But for once, I’m not going to steal.
I’m trying to move past that now, going to the therapy group and trying to get my life back on track.
Because I want to be in proper control of myself. Have real control of my actions. Of my whole damn life for just one second. Where Saint or someone else doesn’t get a say in how I feel. And stealing isn’t going to give me that. The onesie theft showed me that—because after the brief high dissipated, I felt the worst shame I’ve ever felt.
I just came here today to enjoy seeing the beautiful dresses and touching the sumptuous fabrics. Window shopping — and that’s enough for me right now, thank God . And I really feel like I’ve truly turned a corner.
With one last look and a smile, I hurry toward the exit.
One foot in front of the other.
To get on with the rest of my life.
Until a large hand with red talons clamps down on my shoulder. And a voice shrieks in my ear. “I’d recognize those emerald green eyes anywhere. You’re the girl who stole those two dresses from me a few months ago…!”