Chapter 45
Chapter Forty-Five
Icannot believe this is mine. Charlotte hands me the key to the retail spot I just signed a lease for. I unlock the door and we walk in. “This is really happening,” I tell her.
“It’s happening.” She smiles. “I’m so happy you’re moving here. I’m not going to be alone anymore.”
“You are never alone.” I roll my eyes at her. “You have a husband and a whole new family, Charlotte.”
“We have a new family,” she corrects me. “You’re marrying into this crazy-ass family too.”
“I am.” I smile. “It’s insane, right? I mean, I thought you were totally looney when you married Louie, but I get it now. I think maybe when you find your person, you really do just know.”
“Yeah.” Charlotte gets that dreamy Louie look on her face. “I still pinch myself when I look at him and think… that is my husband.”
I’ve known for longer than I’ve been willing to admit that I love Emmanuel.
I never believed he would be able to love me back, though.
Not until this last week really. He’s shown his obsession, his need to possess me.
But now, I understand that’s his way of showing love.
Especially because he doesn’t give that side of him to anyone else.
When we’re alone, he’s not as guarded. When he’s around his men, or his friends, he has walls up so high I doubt anyone could climb them.
And then he’ll look at me and those hard eyes soften ever so slightly.
“So, I’m thinking pink,” I say, changing the subject back to the store.
“Baby pink?” Charlotte suggests. “Oh, Evie, we’re going to have babies together, and our kids will be best friends, and we can have a boy and a girl each. Imagine if they fall in love and then we get to share grandbabies.” She sighs wistfully.
“Okay, that’s a lot to take in, Charlotte. And I’m not sure I want kids,” I admit.
“Yeah, you do,” she tells me.
“We’ll see.” I shrug. “What do you think about green?”
“I think pink and green. And gold!” she says. “I also think, before we really get into this planning, we need more coffee.”
“I’ll go get it this time. You stay here. Start looking through these. We need so much stock.” I hand her catalogues from my suppliers.
“Okay, but don’t judge the ones I pick if they’re not what you’re looking for. I’m not the fashionista here,” she warns.
“It will be fine,” I tell her. “Be right back.”
Starbucks is just around the corner. Another perk of this store’s location. I do love my coffee. After placing my order, I stand to the side and wait. Those little hairs on the back of my neck lift. I look around. Someone is watching me, but I can’t see anyone.
It’s probably Emmanuel’s men hiding in the shadows. I’m pretty sure. He always has me followed, even when I don’t know they’re there.
“Evie!” the barista calls out my name.
“Thank you.” I take both cups and turn to make my way back to the store. Stopping when someone steps right up in front of me, blocking my path.
“Miss Carter, nice to see you again,” Agent Shawn Something says.
I look up at him. “I’m sorry? Have we met?” I feign disinterest.
“Cute. We need to talk. I need to show you this,” he says.
“I don’t need to see anything you have to show me. Excuse me.” As I try to step around him, he steps to the side, blocking my exit again.
“Do you have any idea why your boyfriend is going around killing old pageant judges? Cutting their hands off?” he asks. “Just this morning, six more judges were killed, brutally, before the building blew up. Know anything about that?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I tell him.
“You see, I think you’re lying. Considering you’re an ex-beauty queen, who happened to be judged by every single man who’s now being slaughtered. Hell of a coincidence, don’t you think?” he asks.
“There are millions of girls around this country alone who compete in the pageants. Is every single one of those girls suspects?” I ask him.
“Not every one of those girls is fucking a known cartel leader,” the agent retorts while staring down at my cleavage. Gross.
I smile. “I’ll let you in on a little secret.” I’m really tired of men thinking they can intimidate me. “I don’t fuck Emmanuel. I let him fuck me—something you’ll never get to do.”
The agent smiles back at me. “I wouldn’t be so sure of that. When I lock your boyfriend away, you will be back to being a no one, having no one. You’ll need a shoulder to cry on.” His hand reaches out to touch my face.
On instinct, I push one of the cups into his open palm. The lid comes off and hot coffee pours all over him. Okay, maybe I helped the coffee spill out a little.
“I don’t let scum like you touch me,” I tell him.
“Evie, you okay?” Emmanuel’s voice comes from right beside me.
When the hell did he get here? Where the hell did he come from? Then panic sets in. He should not be here. This cop wants him.
“Take me home,” I tell Emmanuel.
The agent drops the cup on the floor, his expression frozen like he’s seen a ghost, but then that shock turns into a nasty glare. “Don’t worry, Mr. Lopez. I’ll take real good care of her once I lock you away,” he sneers.
Emmanuel’s jaw ticks. I take hold of his hand and start to walk away. Emmanuel doesn’t budge, though.
“E?”
At the sound of my voice, he seems to snap out of his stare-off with the agent and then he lets me drag him out of the coffee shop.
My hands are shaking. I do not like confrontation. I hate it. I will stand up to anyone who is threatening someone I love, though. And that asshole was threatening Emmanuel. I don’t care what they think he’s done.
Okay, I’m pretty sure he did cut the hands off those judges, but I’m not asking him. And I don’t care. They deserved it. They were not innocent men. Emmanuel has stuck to his word by not putting innocent family members in the line of fire. For that, I’m thankful.
He pauses me in the middle of the mall. “Evie, stop.”
Turning to him, I blink away the tears. I don’t want to cry, but I’m so frustrated and emotional right now. I feel helpless. I want to be able to make sure no one can touch Emmanuel. I just have no idea how to do that.
“I’m going to fucking kill him,” Emmanuel growls. His finger wipes under my eye. “I’m sorry.”
I shake my head. “You can’t kill him, E. He’s a cop.”
“I will kill anyone who brings tears to your eyes, Evie. I don’t care if they’re the fucking Pope.”
“Okay, pretty sure the Pope is never going to make me cry. But it’s not him.
It’s me.” I shrug. “I’m just… frustrated.
I feel helpless, E. You are out there doing all kinds of unspeakable things to make me feel safe, and what am I doing?
Getting coffee and planning a new store with my friend.
I want to be able to make the world a safe place for you too, and I can’t. ”
Emmanuel gives me a puzzled look. “Evie, you do more than make the world a safe place. You make it a better place. You give me peace,” he says. “Besides, I like doing unspeakable things to anyone who threatens to hurt you, or has in the past. It’s become my new favorite hobby.”
“Is the list done?” I ask.
“It’s done.” He nods.
“Thank you. Now, can you take me home?”
“Yes.”
“Wait… I need to get Charlotte. I left her at the store.”
Emmanuel’s hand grips mine firmly as we walk back towards the store. This is the first time he’s seeing it. “This is a nice spot,” he says.
“It is,” I agree. “I still can’t believe it’s mine.”
“Hey.” Charlotte looks up from where she’s sitting on the floor. She’s got catalogues spread out in front of her. “What happened?” She jumps to her feet. “I don’t care how scary you think you are, Emmanuel. I will gut you if you make her cry.” She’s in his face within seconds.
“Okay, calm down. It wasn’t him,” I tell her.
“Why were you crying, then?” she asks me.
“I wasn’t. It was one tear that escaped. It’s nothing,” I say, carefully wiping under my eye.
“There’s a fed sniffing around. He’s approached Evie twice now when she’s been alone. Don’t let her be alone again,” Emmanuel explains.
“What? Why am I always the last to know these things?” Charlotte throws her arms in the air before pointing an accusatory finger at me. “You should have told me.”
“You’re honeymooning. I’m not ruining your happiness with my shit any more than I have,” I tell her.
“Fine. I call an end to the honeymoon stage. Right now. It’s over. From now on, you tell me everything,” she says.
“You can’t just call an end to the honeymoon stage. That’s not how it works.” I laugh.
“Yeah, well, I just did,” Charlotte says. “I mean it, Evie. I want to know what’s happening with you.”
“Okay,” I agree, for no other reason than to end this.
“Can this be done remotely?” Emmanuel eyes the pile of catalogues on the ground.
“Um, yes,” I tell him.
“Good. We’re going home. To Mexico. Today,” he says.
“What? Today? I don’t even have anything to wear!” I start rummaging through the clothes I packed to come to Vegas. I didn’t exactly have a lot of notice.
“Evie, we can buy whatever you need when we get there,” Emmanuel says, as if that’s the solution to my problems.
“You can come and raid my closet. Louie keeps having shit delivered to me that I don’t even need,” Charlotte adds.
“Oh my, how horrible your life must be that your husband constantly gives you gifts.” I roll my eyes at her.
“It really is.” Her lip tilts up in mock disgust.
I turn back to Emmanuel. “How long do I have?”
“How long do you need?” he counters.
“Mmm, three hours?”
“Okay, I’ll take you to Louie’s and then come back and collect you in three hours,” he says.
“I don’t need you to escort me upstairs,” I tell him.
“You might not need me to, but I need it,” he counters, and I melt a little.
As soon as we’re in Charlotte’s penthouse, she disappears, leaving me alone in the foyer with Emmanuel.
“Three hours,” he says. “Don’t leave this apartment until I come back.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t like the idea of you being anywhere without me right now.”
“Okay.” Usually I’d tell him where to go, but I feel like he needs this. And it’s not like I need to go anywhere.
Once Emmanuel leaves, I walk into Charlotte’s bedroom, finding her in her closet.
“Holy shitballs.” My mouth drops open in shock. She wasn’t kidding when she said Louie keeps having stuff delivered for her.
“I told you it’s excessive.”
“It’s amazing, Charlotte. This is literally a dream closet,” I say, walking in and spinning around. “I’m almost too afraid to touch anything.”
“Don’t be. Take whatever you want,” she says.
“I’ve never been more thankful that we are the same size than I am right now,” I say while ogling her floor-to-ceiling shoe rack that is stacked full of all the latest designer heels.