Chapter 24 - Anya
My fingers are twisted in his shirt, clinging onto him as though I’m afraid this is all a dream and I’m terrified to wake up. He loves me. The words loop in my head. He loves me. I choke back more tears, sobs of happiness and relief, and disbelief.
Emmanuil’s arms are locked around me, and just as tight as I’m holding on to him, he’s holding on to me, too.
I feel his body vibrate as a low chuckle rumbles in his chest. It turns into wholehearted laughter as he pulls me away to look at me.
I squint at him, confused. He shakes his head and says, “I can’t believe—"
“I love you too,” I blurt out before he can say anything more. “I love you and I want to be with you and I never, ever want to let you go.”
His smile is wide across his lips.
“I know, kitten. I know you love me. And you never have to let me go.”
“I’m so sorry,” I mutter again, knowing I can never apologize enough.
“You don’t need to ever say sorry again.
You did what you thought was right to protect me.
It’s your father who has to pay. I want to tear him to shreds,” he snarls, anger pulsing in his eyes, thinking about what my father did.
“The agony you must have felt watching that man you thought was me being tortured. I understand your relief and your guilt. But none of it was your fault, kitten. Your father has to pay. He has to suffer. He has to die.”
I sit back, my fingers threaded through his as I stare down at our hands entwined. He’s angry. I understand. I was angry too, for a very long time. But I had more guilt than anger.
Em lets out a deep sigh, and I know he’s thinking so many things. It’s a lot to process. The truth of everything is a lot to take in.
He smiles at me, reaching up to touch my cheek, his fingers tracing over my skin, gentle and intimate.
“I can’t believe that all these years neither of us stopped loving each other. It seems like such a waste of time…” he says.
Love is all that matters. The fact that, through all of this, we found each other again. The only thing that matters is that I don’t lose him ever again.
I bite my lip and tilt my head to the side, thoughtfully. “I don’t want to be like him, Em,” I say softly.
“You could never be like him. Why would you say that?”
“I’m older now, Em. I’m wiser, and I have so much more understanding of the world.
Last time I let him scare me into not fighting for us.
For our love. But this time I won’t back down.
But I don’t want to hurt him. It’s not the way to fix this.
That’s his method. Bullying, fear, violence.
It’s not who I am, and I won’t let my anger towards him turn me into a monster. ”
“I’ll be the monster for you, so you don’t have to,” he growls darkly.
I shake my head again. “No.”
“I don’t understand how you can give that man the slightest thought of kindness when he doesn’t deserve to be breathing.”
“Revenge consumes people,” I say, and his eyes soften.
“It does,” he sighs. “What do you want to do, kitten? Because I’ll do anything you ask. If it were up to me, I’d destroy him, but the choice is yours.”
My heart warms with relief. He understands, and he isn’t going to fight me on this. He understands what is important.
“I need to go and see my brother. If anyone can force my father to stand down, it’s Kristopher. I have to tell him the truth so that he helps us,” I say, a nervous smile touching my lips. I hope my brother will give me the chance to explain.
“Alright. Then that’s what we’ll do.” He strokes his thumb over the back of my hand, sending shivers through my body.
I want so badly to be with him. I can’t wait.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can. The sooner I have this conversation with Kristopher, the sooner we can put this all behind us and be together,” I say with determination. “I just hope he understands.”
“Anya, you aren’t going alone. I’m not leaving your side. We’re a team now. This isn’t just your love, you’re fighting for. It’s ours. It’s us,” he says.
My heart flips, somersaulting with pure joy, because this is all I’ve ever dreamed of. I grin, crawling into his lap. “I was hoping you would say that, because I don’t think I can bear to be away from you.”
He wraps his hands around my hips and pulls me tighter against him.
“You never have to, kitten. You’re my whole world now. I go where you go and vice versa. Is your brother still in San Diego? We can go and see him now. I agree with you, the sooner we talk to him, the better.”
“He is, as far as I know. I haven’t messaged him yet since I saw him at your office. I should also warn him that his enemies tried to attack me.” I gently brush my hand over his side, remembering that he threw himself in front of a bullet for me. This man loves you.
“He doesn’t know you left me?” Em clears his throat, uncomfortable to even think about it.
“Not unless Georgie mentioned it to him. She was going to try and help me calm him down so that I could talk to him.”
“Alright, then let’s lie low until tomorrow morning. I don’t want to risk your brother’s rivals taking another shot. In the morning, we’ll go straight to Kristopher.”
“Okay. I’m going to message Georgie. She was expecting me home tonight. I don’t want her to worry.”
Still sitting on his lap, with him watching me, I type out a quick message to my best friend.
Me: It’s me. I’m safe, but I can’t explain right now. I won’t be back tonight. I’ll call tomorrow and explain everything.
Georgie: You’ll be the death of me. Are you sure you’re safe? If you’re not, I will come and find you and drag you back here.
Me: I promise. I’m safe. And thank you for being the amazing, beautiful friend that you are. Everything is going to be okay.
A happy smile spreads over my lips as I type the last bit. I actually believe that. Everything is going to be ok. I drop my phone down on the sofa next to us. Emmanuil’s hands brush up and down my thighs as I straddle his lap.
“What are you smiling about?” Em asks, tilting his head to the side.
My eyes shine with mischief. “I was just wondering—what will we do tonight to pass the time?” I ask with a cheeky smile.
“I can think of a few things,” he smirks.
I lean close to his ear and whisper. “Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle with you.”
Between my legs, I feel his cock grow instantly hard, pressing against me.
“Please do, or I will need stitches,” he chuckles, rocking his massive cock up against me.
***
In the morning, I wake up wrapped in Emmanuil’s warm embrace. His arms around my waist, my back against his chest, our naked bodies intertwined beneath the blankets. My heart is happier than it’s been in years, but the weight of what we still need to face is making my stomach knot with tension.
“Good morning, kitten,” he whispers softly from behind me. I roll to face him, and he kisses my lips, brushing his fingers through my hair and down my back.
“Good morning, gorgeous,” I say against his kiss.
“It’s all going to be okay. We’re going to make it okay,” he says, reassuring me without me telling him how much I need it.
“Together,” I smile, touching his face.
“Exactly.”
We shower, get dressed, and have a cup of coffee that I can’t finish. I can’t delay this anymore. My body is knotting tighter by the minute as the morning drifts past. I want to go and see my brother now.
“Are you ready?” Emmanuil asks, setting his empty mug down. I nod, my heart skipping a nervous beat.
Our plan is to drive straight to my brother’s hotel. On the way there, I will message him and tell him we’re coming, and we need to talk.
Emmanuil unlocks the safe house door, leading to the garage.
We climb into the car, and while he starts the engine. Quietly in my mind, I run over how to word the message to Kris. It has to be diplomatic but to the point. I have to warn him that Emmanuil will be with me and give him enough information so that he won’t want to hurt him.
My phone is in my hands, I unlock it and open my brother’s chat.
Em reverses out of the parking garage and into the street.
But we’re surrounded.
Men in black Kevlar and dark face masks have the entire street blocked off.
“Shit,” Emmanuil growls. “It’s your brother’s rivals. How the hell did they find us?”
“No,” I say hurriedly, grabbing his arm as he reaches for his gun. “It’s my brother.”
Emmanuil pauses, doubt flashing across his face as I reach for the door handle. “No, they’ll shoot you,” he blurts out in fear.
“It’s Kristopher,” I reassure him, opening the car door and stepping out. Emmanuil climbs out, too, and instantly, men grab him and drag him to the floor, pinning him down.
“Stop,” I scream. “Kristopher, stop.”
My brother steps forward, pulling his mask off, anger in his eyes.
“He tried to have you killed, Anya, and you’re defending him?” he snarls.
“He didn’t try to have me killed. What are you talking about?” I squeal as his guards press a gun to the side of Emmanuil’s head. Images of what my father did flash through my memory, searing panic into my heart.
“I know about the attack yesterday, Anya,” Kris says.
“You’re wrong, though. Look at his side. I got shot at, yes, your rivals tried to kill me. But if it wasn’t for Emmanuil, I’d be dead. He took the bullet that was meant for me. He saved my life, Kris.” My voice is flooded with desperation as I plead for my brother to listen.
He tilts his chin towards his men, and they grab the edge of Emmanuil’s shirt, pulling it up to reveal the bandages.
“He took a bullet for you?” Kris snarls in disbelief.
“This is all my fault, Kris, all of this misunderstanding and confusion. I should have told you years ago, but I was afraid.”
I tell the story again.
What my father did.
How he tortured that man. His threats. The fear I felt. I tell Kristopher everything. My brother listens with his eyes dark and locked onto me.
“I let you believe that Emmanuil hurt me because it was easier than explaining what our father did,” I sigh, staring at him, waiting for him to say anything at all.
“I’ve hated him for years,” Kristopher mutters, his eyes drifting to Emmanuil, still pinned down.
My brother huffs and scrunches his face. He gestures to his men. “Let him up,” he says, tucking his gun into the holster over his shoulder.
He turns towards Emmanuil. “I maintained the rivalry between us because of what I believed you did. If that wasn’t what happened, then we have a few things we need to discuss.”
His words are clipped and professional. His face is void of expression.
“I’m ready to talk when you are,” Emmanuil says calmly, dusting the dirt from his pants. The way he moves, I can see he’s in pain.
“Can you guarantee my sister’s safety?” he demands.
“I can. I will protect her with my life.”
Kris nods, his mouth pulled tight.
“Tomorrow, I’ll be at your office at eleven. You and I can talk alone. Man to man.” He turns to face me. “Try and stay out of trouble until then, Anya?” he sighs in frustration.
“Thank you, Kris,” I say with relief, rushing forward to hug him. He hugs me back with just one arm, shaking his head. “You’re impossible, you know that?” he chuckles quietly. “But we’ll sort this out. I just need time to process what you’ve told me and look into a few things.”
“Thank you,” I whisper again, stepping away from him.
My brother and his men leave, climbing into their SUVs behind bulletproof glass. They drive away and leave Emmanuil and me standing by his car outside the safe house.
“That went as well as can be expected,” Emmanuil grins, pulling me close to his side.
“What are you smiling about? We still need to talk to him properly? We don’t know if he’ll help us yet,” I huff, tension still knotted inside me.
“I’m smiling because he would never have left you with me if he didn’t believe you, kitten. He’s already on our side. That was his first gesture to acknowledge us being together.”
“Oh,” I say, realizing he’s right.
“Now, I need to swallow a few painkillers and lie down for a bit,” Emmanuil groans, and I see fresh blood has soaked through his shirt from the struggle with my brother’s guards.
“You need proper stitches,” I scold him. “I’ll drive.” I hold my hand out for the car keys.
“Not a chance,” he snorts, climbing into the driver’s seat, moaning as he settles in and his wounds cause him pain. I roll my eyes.
“Still not letting me take care of you,” I huff, pulling the passenger door closed.
“No, kitten, you’re mine to take care of. Now and for always.
“Home?” Emmanuil smiles, starts the car, and heads towards his mansion. Our home. On the way there, I pull my phone from my pocket. There are a number of messages from Georgie. She’s still worried, checking in to see if I’m okay.
I message her again and tell her things are better than okay.