Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Calm. That’s the feeling that washes over my entire body when Emmanuel’s hand covers mine. Until that calmness is quickly replaced with fire. I feel like every single nerve ending has just been sparked to life.
My throat goes dry as I swallow a lump. On the outside, I’m giving this man my very well-practiced pageant smile. On the inside, I’m burning up with a need I’ve never experienced before.
“Evie,” I tell him, when I realize I’ve been staring far too long.
Emmanuel smiles, and with that simple gesture, the calmness comes back. He doesn’t remove his hand from mine. It takes me pulling away for him to let go. As soon as he’s no longer touching me, I regain a bit of my senses.
This man is dangerous. It’s not the darkness of his eyes or the tattoos decorating his hands and neck and probably a lot more of his skin if it wasn’t hidden by the custom-fitted black-on-black suit he’s wearing.
None of that is what makes me think he’s dangerous.
It’s the way I want him to cover my hand with his again, the way I want him to smile at me like he is right now and never stop.
Choosing to ignore that thought and shove it way down in a spot never to be found, I turn my attention to Charlotte’s boyfriend. I really have been eager to meet the guy who’s managed to interest my friend so quickly.
“So, Louie, tell me. How’d you do it?” I ask him.
“Do what?” Louie looks at me.
“How’d you kill Charlotte’s ex and make it look like an overdose?” I keep my eyes fixed on his face. His expression. Waiting for any sign that he’s uncomfortable with the question. He doesn’t give anything away as he assesses me right back.
“He didn’t,” Emmanuel says. “I did.”
His voice… it shouldn’t sound so good. Especially when admitting to murder. “Do you just go around killing all of your friends’ girlfriends’ exes?” I’m sure that he’s joking. They didn’t really kill Owen. At least that’s what I’ll continue to tell myself.
“Only the ones who leave bruises on my friend’s girlfriends,” Emmanuel replies, his gaze firmly on mine. Is he trying to throw me off?
“So, are you like an assassin or something?” I cant my head as I wait for his answer.
“No, but ever heard of the De La Sangre Cartel?”
“Fucking hell,” Louie groans from the other side of the table.
Ignoring him, I keep my focus on Emmanuel. Because, well, it’s not a hardship. The man is fucking gorgeous. “No, should I have?”
“Probably best you haven’t. I run the organization.”
“Emmanuel, really?” Louie grunts, shaking his head.
“So, you’re supposed to be a big, scary drug lord or something?” I ask Emmanuel. “I don’t see it. You don’t look that scary.”
It’s a lie. He’s plenty scary—although I would never have expected a drug lord to be so damn good looking.
“He’s full of shit. That’s why. We didn’t kill Owen,” Louie says in a don’t ask questions kind of way before turning to Charlotte. “What happened?”
So he’s allowed to ask questions. We’re not. Got it.
“Rachel said he was found in a hotel room. Overdosed. But it’s strange… I mean, I know the guy was an asshole, but he didn’t do drugs. He wasn’t an addict,” Charlotte repeats what we both heard from Rachel.
It’s odd, though. Charlotte was with Owen for years and doesn’t seem even the slightest bit upset over his death. I’m not judging my friend. I’m not the least bit bothered either.
“We also didn’t think he was doing sisters but he did that too,” I chime in.
“I say good riddance. The asshole broke your heart. I just wish I could have been the one to end him. I even bought a shovel.” I didn’t, but I’m sure it wouldn’t be hard to find one.
I bet if I asked the so-called drug lord sitting next to me, he’d be able to help me.
“He didn’t break my heart. My sister did,” Charlotte corrects me.
“Semantics. So, tell me more about this cartel of yours. What exactly do you do other than kill people?” I shift my attention back to Emmanuel, to avoid discussing Charlotte and her sister. I know my friend and she is not ready to open that can of worms just yet.
Before Emmanuel can answer, he’s interrupted by Louie. “You hungry? Let’s order food.”
I ignore him. “So the cartel business pays well, I assume?”
“It does.” Emmanuel smirks. “What do you do?”
“I have my own empire too.” I smirk. “A boutique. It’s called Evie’s Vault.”
“Impressive. Do you enjoy it?” Emmanuel asks. He hasn’t looked away from me once. It’s a little unnerving having someone’s undivided attention on you.
“I love it. I’ve always loved clothes,” I tell him.
“Okay. Evie, I want to dance.” I’m pulled to my feet by Charlotte. And I follow her out to the dance floor that no one is actually dancing on. “I don’t think that guy is joking about the cartel,” she whispers.
“I don’t think he is either.” I laugh. It’s just my luck that the one guy I actually could see myself with turns out to be undesirable. Although I couldn’t really be with him for more than one night anyway. Which isn’t the worst idea.
“Stop flirting with him, Evie!” Charlotte shrieks.
“Why? A man like that knows how to fuck, Charlotte.”
“This isn’t a joke. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
My body is pressed tighter against hers as we dance. “So, you’re the only one who gets to jump into bed with a dangerous man? It’s just sex. I’ll be fine.” I don’t acknowledge the feelings he’s bringing to the surface after a single platonic touch.
“Wait… You’re already planning on spending the night with him?” Charlotte’s eyes widen.
“No, I’m planning on spending a hot few hours with the man and then never seeing him again.” I smile when I see my friend’s Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Dangerous walking towards us. “Incoming.”
“Can I cut in?” Louie asks me.
“Be my guest.” I’m quick to escape Charlotte’s stern glare. I mean, really, Emmanuel’s probably talking nonsense. I’ve seen movies. Real criminals don’t just admit their crimes. Or at least I don’t think they would.
I don’t know who, but someone suggested we go somewhere else, so I file in next to Charlotte as we both follow Louie to wherever it is we’re going. The casino is busy, and a lot of people try to stop and talk to him and his friends along the way.
I keep flicking my eyes to Emmanuel, who warms my other side. There’s a lot of men in suits gathered around us, a lot of Hispanic men. Maybe he is a drug lord. He seems too… clean-cut though and he smells even better than he looks.
Louie is stopped by some French woman, and when I hear her offer to meet him in her room later, I see red. I will not sit back and watch my friend get hurt again.
Stepping in front of Charlotte, I smile at the newcomer. “Oh, sweetheart, you clearly ain’t got any of the good sense God gave a rock because you are so barking up the wrong tree right now.”
“Who are you? And why are you here?” the woman asks, waving a hand towards me before her glass of champagne is tipped over on my dress.
I don’t budge. “Bless your heart. You think a spilled drink is going to bother me?”
Before she can answer, an arm wraps around my waist from behind me, pulling me back. Emmanuel hisses something in Spanish and then two men are grabbing hold of the woman. “Miss, it’s time to leave,” one of them says in a thick Hispanic accent.
“Emmanuel, no,” Louie growls out. “She’s the daughter of the French president.”
Emmanuel fires off something else to the two men, again in Spanish, and I’m now wishing I had taken the language in school. He then turns to me and his voice softens. “Are you okay?”
I shake out of his hold and glare back at him over a shoulder. “Sticky, but I’m not opposed to having this champagne licked off me.” I wink before I rush forward to catch up with Charlotte.
We end up in a bar, somehow playing Truth or Dare, when one of Louie’s friends tells me it’s my turn.
“Dare,” I call out, deciding to be careless. I mean, what could these mobsters actually dare me to do anyway?
Sammie, whose name I recently learned, smirks at me while pointing to a man in a suit by the bar. “I dare you to go hit on that guy and get his number.”
I smile. “Please, that’s like taking candy from a baby.”
Did he really think that would be a challenge?
Shit, maybe he can see my ugliness. I’m trapped into the booth by Emmanuel, who doesn’t get up to let me out. I don’t bother asking him to move. Instead, I climb up onto the table and crawl across. Thankful I’m wearing shorts.
I put an extra swing into my hips and flick my hair over my shoulder as I approach the man. My hand lands on his bicep—shit, he’s ripped. “Hey there, handsome. You look lonely. How about you give me your number so I can fix that problem for you.” I bat my eyelashes at him.
The man in question is frozen, his stare deathly. He removes my hand from his arm like he’s disposing of a rotten banana peel. “I’m good,” he says.
“What?”
“You’re not getting my number. Go back to your friends,” he clarifies before turning his back on me.
I am so confused as I make my way over to the booth again. “He’s gay,” I announce.
“No, he’s not.” Sammie laughs. “He just wants to keep his head on his shoulders.”
“Nope, he’s gay. That’s never happened to me before. Shit. Am I… Oh my god!” I shriek.
This cannot be happening.
“What?” Charlotte asks as I’m climbing back over the table.
“I’m losing it. I’m getting… old,” I tell her, horrified by the thought.
“You have not lost it, mi alma. You are the single most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid my eyes on,” Emmanuel says into my ear, and goose bumps erupt all over my skin.
Holy hell, I want this man whispering all kinds of dirty things to me.