This document appears to be the front matter and first chapter of a fictional novel. It includes a copyright page, dedication, prologue, and beginning of chapter one. The prologue describes a young boy witnessing domestic violence between his parents. His mother tells him to always fight for good and never turn out the light in his heart. In chapter one, the main character Emilia regains consciousness in an unfamiliar place after apparently almost drowning, and senses someone watching her as she wakes up.

2. THE
SECRETS WE KEEP
SECRETS AND REVELATIONS BOOK ONE
SELINA MARIE

3. Copyright © 2021 Selina Marie
The Secrets We Keep
Release Date: Spring 2021
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or
transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical,
photocopying, recording or otherwise, without express written permission
of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events and businesses
portrayed in this book are fictitious and the product of the author’s
imagination. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is entirely
coincidental and not intended by the author.
No copyright infringement intended. Any music, songs, quotes, celebrity
names or lyrics written are entirely the original owner’s property, no claim
had been made. All credit goes to the original owner.
Disclaimer: Some scenes, language and themes in this book may be
sensitive to readers. Contains mature language, dark themes, triggering
situations and explicit sex scenes. Not intended or recommended for anyone
under the age of 18.

4. Edited by: Sarah Plocher, All Encompassing Books.
Proofread by: Amy Briggs, Briggs Consulting LLC.
Cover Design by: Selina Marie via Canva
E-book Formatting by: Selina Marie

5. CONTENTS PAGE
TITLE PAGE
COPYRIGHT & DISCLAIMER
CONTENTS PAGE
SPOTIFY PLAYLIST
DEDICATION
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN

6. CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

7. CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

8. SPOTIFY PLAYLIST
"Triggered" by Chase Atlantic
"Torn in Two" by Breaking Benjamin
"Sabotage" by Bebe Rexha
"Gods & Monsters" by Lana Del Rey
"Wicked Game" by Stone Sour
"Pillowtalk" by Zayn
"Demons on the Side of My Bed" by Teflon Sega
"The Dark of You" by Breaking Benjamin
"Church" by Chase Atlantic
"Teardrops" by Bring Me The Horizon
"You're Somebody Else" by Flora Cash
"Saints" by Echos
For full Playlist visit:
https://spoti.fi/2QUDDjQ

9. DEDICATION
To you, may you always remember how beautiful, strong, resillient, and
magnificent you are. Even in the darkest times, there is always light within
us, we just have to find it, and feed it.

10. PROLOGUE
Lukas
When I was seven years old, I used to lie awake in my bed, clutching
my scruffy stuffed bear close to my chest, praying to God, Santa Claus and
even the fucking tooth fairy for my father to take his last breaths. Sounds
fucked up. That’s because it was.

11. My mother’s screams pierced through the winter night, the house
eerily silent except for the howling of the wind outside of my window, the
whistles sneaking in through the tiny gaps too small for the eye to see.
There were two types of screams that would echo through the house,
both made my stomach turn. One was sharp, sudden and high pitched, and
usually followed a thud or a crack—a slap against the skin.
The other was like a moan. I never knew what the second one was
until I was a few years older.
Each time it happened, I would curl myself into a ball so tight my
limbs ached when I finally moved. Tears poured down my cheek as I lay
there unable to help her. I was “only a little boy… nothing but a weak
disappointment” as my father would say. I was powerless to help her, and
the shudders of my little body rocked the bed until there was nothing but
silence again, and the gentle creak of my bedroom door being pushed open.
I slowly lifted the covers from my head, looking to the door through the
haze of my tears.
My mom treaded over to me softly, lowering herself until she was sat
on the edge of my bed. Her skin pale, like mine, already bruised and red
with the shape of a large handprint wrapped around the top of her arm. I
gazed up at her face where her lip was split open, her mouth stained with
blood. She never hid her wounds from me, and I know now it was to show
me life wasn’t pretty, not some whimsical fairy-tale where pain was an
illusion and the only darkness that plagued our lives was the setting of the
sun and rising of the moon.
Scooping me up and sitting me in her lap, she flinched. I wanted to get
off because I was causing her pain, but I also never wanted to let go. Her
arms wound around my little body holding me close.
“My sweet little boy, I want to tell you something that I hope you’ll
always remember, even when I’m not here anymore.” Her face tilted down
to mine and I nodded. I could see her eyes were glassy.
“There are some people in this world whose hearts don’t understand
kindness and compassion, they don’t understand love and sacrifice.” She
stroked away the dark hair that had fallen into my eyes as she spoke
tenderly.
“Some people who have nothing left in their hearts but hatred, those
are the people who need love the most, even when they try to fight it, even

12. when it seems impossible to show them the light, show it to them anyway,”
she told me, her voice soothing, like music.
“Daddy says that love and compassion are a weakness,” I said, my
voice cracking. My mother held me tighter.
“Your father is a complex man, one I fear is beyond redemption, but
the one thing I know with every part of me, is that to give love and show
compassion will always make you the strongest person in the room.”
Light from the hallway danced across my bedroom wall as my door
was pushed open a little more, where my older brother Elijah stood there in
his pajamas, waiting in the doorway. Mom lifted her arm out like a wing,
gesturing for him to come and join us, which he did.
Each of her delicate arms wrapped around us tightly, and she kissed
our heads.
“My warriors, I have something for you that I want you to share, you
can take it in turns to wear,” she said. Unwinding herself from around us,
she reached around her neck and pulled out a locket. There was a tiny key
that tucked straight down the center of the thick silver metal.
Pulling it out and twisting it, she opened the locket and there was a
photo of all three of us from when we went on a vacation without my father
the previous summer.
It was the best vacation we had ever been on; full of happiness,
laughter until our tummy’s hurt, ice cream smiles, and hugs that warmed
you straight to the bone.
My mom stood and turned to us, crouching down until she was holding
our hands looking up into our innocent eyes.
“I want you both to promise me something. I want you to always fight
for the good, never give up on the innocent and—” She moved her hands,
so they were pressed lightly on each of our hearts, gently patting. “Never
turn out the light in here.”
That was the last vacation we went on with my mother. After that, the
beatings continued and my father didn’t allow us to go anywhere unless he
was present. The dark, ominous cloud hung over us dulling the light in my
mother every moment he got.
It wasn’t until she had gone, that the light started to fade from me too.
Each time I held the locket, I felt her love and her light, begging me to
remember those words she had told me that night in my room.

13. They say you become the product of the people you spend the most
time with, and unfortunately for me—other than Nate and Elijah—that was
my father Viktor Elin, Alexander Grayson, and Andrew Caper.
Which meant two things, that the light inside of my heart fizzled out,
and I broke my promise to my mother.

14. CHAPTER ONE
Emilia
Pressure threatens to crush my windpipe as his fingers dig into my throat,
squeezing tight like a boa constrictor as he holds me under.
My lungs burn fiercely, as if someone had struck a match in the center
of my chest. He yanks my head up out of the water, submerging me only a
second later before I can frantically suck in another breath.

15. As the seconds tick by and my thrashing body slows, my mind goes
quiet, and I feel oddly peaceful. Strangely enough, I am not afraid anymore.
Whether that is due to the fact that my brain was deprived of oxygen
and I was reaching a state of deficiency, insanity, or death, who knows?
Well, I know, because I didn’t die.
The sound of running water lulls in the background, drawing me out
of my subconscious. My body registers the silky softness underneath my
skin first, caressing me from the fog in my mind. My sense of touch and
smell increases, as I haven’t opened my eyes yet, and I am acutely aware
this isn’t my bedroom. I can feel the spaciousness around me instead of the
claustrophobic energy of my own room. I’m also pretty sure I can hear the
ocean.
My hair is wet, and my throat is dry, and feels like knives are scraping
at my airways each time I take a breath; at least I know I wasn’t having a
nightmare.
The energy shifts right before I open my eyes to look at my
surroundings, and I can feel someone in the room with me. I can sense their
stare burning into and right through my body.
Anxiety lingers in my stomach and makes me want to keep my eyes
shut tight, so I don’t have to face what might be on the other side of my
eyelids.
Reality is overrated, but maybe that’s easy for someone like me to say.
I don’t live a life most dream of, but I stand tall, pick the gravel out of my
wounds, dust myself off and get on with it. There is no other option for me.
Sometimes life is shit, but it’s the attitude you give out—what you give
is what you get back. I like to believe that’s true. I like to believe in karma,
and I for one, hope that karma is as brutal as they say she is. I hope she is a
raging bitch.
Slowly, I peel my eyes open, and don’t regret it one bit, my breath gets
stuck in my throat when I'm met with ocean blue eyes, literally.
The shade of cornflower blue, how beautiful. They are strained though,
as if something is burdening them. They know hardship; I can sense it
flickering in their depths.
My gaze follows the path down his face to his pointed nose, and a pair
of perfect lips that look so delicious I wonder how soft they might be

16. against mine. I take in the rest of his face, his jawline so sharp I swear it
might cut if I were to touch him.
The powerful energy that radiates from his eyes and every feature
screams masculinity, an alpha male.
As I slowly lift my head, he stays rooted in his spot, motionless, but
his eyes, those gorgeous eyes, are fixated on me. I can feel his stare without
even watching him, and my nerves fire up purely from the intense energy
exuding from him.
I sit up and scan the room, taking in every detail—just in case I need to
tell the police if he turns out to be a psychopath, and I end up being one of
the lucky ones who escape. There goes my mind on a tangent and at the
most unideal time.
Deep, navy-blue painted walls, with rich, wooden furniture dotted
around the room in a very strategic fashion, not a single thing out of place,
no clothes scattered around the floor or dumped in a corner; it seems like
everything that has a place, is in it.
The space and everything about it is all powerful and dominating, but
surprisingly not as dark as one might imagine. Huge glass windows cover
an entire wall, which welcomes the sunlight streaming in through the
partially closed blinds. It could be sunrise or sunset. It’s in that moment
when my brain finally catches up with reality that I realize, I don’t know
where I am, who I’m with, or what happened.
Blue eyes clears his throat and looks down his nose at me, with a
pinched expression I can only decipher as irritated. As if I disrupted him. I
didn’t.
Who gets pissed at the person they kidnapped and brought into their
own space?
"Who are you, and where the fuck am I?” I ask. He looks frustrated
and bored by my questions, but there’s a spark of intrigue there too.
A small smirk grows on the side of his mouth but quickly disappears
before it can become anything else.
"Here," he says, thrusting a water bottle toward my hands. “You sound
like you need a drink,” he supplies with a blasé tone to his voice. He’s right,
I can’t deny that the scratchy croak in my voice makes me sound like a
water deprived hag. I take the water, growing agitated by the second that he
didn’t answer my questions.

17. "You didn't answer my questions. Tell me where I am and who you
are," I demand, emphasizing each word—he obviously heard me. He is
standing literally three feet away. If he wants to act like an idiot, I’ll treat
him like one.
"Well, that's not very polite now, is it? Here I am just trying to keep
you alive… and not one thank you." His sarcastic remark with the same
smirk as before makes me want to smack it off his gorgeous face.
Something seems off with this man.
I now assume he’s the reason I’m still alive, and in many ways his
words just confirmed it.
But the way he looks at me, as if he despises me, sends shivers through my
body. I don’t even know the guy.
Shouldn’t he be asking me questions like, what's your name, what year
is it, blah, blah, blah...? Like a normal person would, who had just saved
someone from a seriously fucked up situation.
I swing my legs off the bed with a lot more ease than my muscles
should allow. I've had enough of this prick. If he isn’t going to say anything
helpful, I’m out of here. I know I sound like an ungrateful bitch, I know.
But I’ve had enough. I am so mentally and physically exhausted.
I don’t have a lot of options and as fucked up as it is to admit, maybe
it’s better to be with the devil you know.
There is a part of me that desperately craves safety, for someone to
wrap me up like a new-born baby and swaddle me tight and keep me safe
from the big bad world. That part of me wants me to stay, and I can’t
imagine why.
I don’t think this man will hurt me, not physically anyway, but I don’t
want to find out. Then why do I feel a physical ache in my chest when I
think of leaving here and going back home?
That’s when I check myself, because this isn’t my home. This is a
stranger, and in all honesty, I know I’m not exactly making it easy, but I
don’t feel the slightest bit of warmth from him right now and am pretty
certain the last thing he would want would be for me to stay.
My limbs burn and ache when I slowly lift my body from the mattress.
Cuts and scars decorate my skin, some from tonight but most are my little
reminders of what waits for me at home.
I do my best to cover my body in modest clothing most days, meaning
the majority of the scars aren't visible, they're hidden.

18. Which reminds me, the usual sensation of my blood circulation being
cut off from my legs from wearing skinny jeans that are too tight, is gone.
I glance down noticing the huge, baggy T-shirt I’m wearing, and it
definitely isn’t mine. My torso is drowning in the soft navy material that
feels expensive against my skin and falls loosely down to the tops of my
thighs. I’m grateful he didn’t leave me completely naked, at least some of
my dignity was left intact.
Each time my chest rises and falls, my breasts brush against the fabric,
reminding me how naked I am underneath his shirt, and the slight breeze I
feel between my legs doesn’t help either.
Humiliation and anxiety swim in my belly, doing somersaults and
speeding up my heart rate when I think about how this man has seen me
naked and completely bare.
It means he saw my body, the body that carries too many sordid
memories that come with every mark on its surface, straight down through
each layer of skin, through the muscle, the blood and down to the marrow
in my bones. Every mark that is stained into my skin—my soul—is
irreversible and I can’t stand it.
Lifting my gaze to his, I can see the heat in his eyes, he likes what he
sees. There’s a feeling of unease that swells in my belly, and I can’t decide
if the hunger in his stare creeps me out or turns me on.
One thing I am pretty sure of though, is that there is something
seriously wrong with me.
Snapping out of my temporary insanity, I move to the door, having to
step around his tall, dominating form, and I swear I can feel electricity
sparking between our bodies when they almost touch, as I move around
him.
I might have said thank you, and I genuinely am more grateful than he
will ever know for what he did for me. I would make polite conversation
and ask if there’s anything I can do for him in return, not that anything I
could do would measure up, but I would try, if I didn’t feel like he wanted
my body to incinerate before his eyes. Seriously, if looks could kill. It
doesn’t make any sense to me, and I feel like Bella from Twilight, after
Edward saves her but seems to despise her—like, why bother?
He can’t stand the sight of me, that much is obvious, and even
though there is desire in his gaze as he takes in my body, I can see the
disdain. He is still a perfect stranger and I’m sure I’ll never see him again.

19. What a shame… my internal thoughts pipe up, and maybe it is. But no
matter how hot and heroic a guy might be, I can’t afford to be even a
fraction interested in anyone. So it’s a good thing I’m not interested in him
—the strong, silent arrogant man at my back, as I walk outside the bedroom
door completely unaware of where I’m going.
I glance back over my shoulder before I round the corner; his body is
now facing mine, the fabric of his jeans is stretched tightly across him, as if
his hands are clenched in fists inside of his pockets. My eyes shift slowly up
his body, taking him in, because this is probably the last time I will be in the
presence of such ostentatious beauty, as arrogant as he may be.
The cords in his arms are visible and pulled tight, flexing under his
skin and he’s pale but it isn’t off putting or sickly in any way. It’s haunting
in the most beautiful sense. As my eyes travel up his body, the black t-shirt
is pulled taut across his chest, and I can already see how ripped he is. His
neck makes me hungry just looking at it. I want to bury my lips into the
crook of it and taste the skin there; he’s edible.
My hormones are doing fucked up things to my body, and I feel heat
swirling low in my belly. When my eyes reach his, his brows are pulled
inwards in a frown deep enough that they almost touch in the middle.
The icy blue in his irises is prominent, dark lashes framing the blue.
They’re strained though, and when he takes a step forward, looking like
he’s fighting an internal battle in his head, I think he is going to say
something to me. I can’t anticipate what is troubling him in his mind, but it
almost looks as if he might not want me to go.
A flicker of concern darts across his face, and maybe underneath his
bravado, he might be afraid for me… he should be.
Hell, I should be. It’s hard to explain though, it’s as if every time I
walk through the splintered wooden door to my own personal hell, I leave
my body, and I’m only an entity watching what happens, my mind and body
numb to each one of the blows it takes.
My life resembles a nightmare, but it's all I know, and I have to live
it for her—the girl inside of me is screaming for me to stay alive and keep
going, because there is so much more meant for me, but also for the girl
who was taken from me.
I wait a moment longer, and when I realize the silence will only
continue, I turn and attempt to make my way out of here.

20. After navigating my way down a long hallway, I round the corner and
discover the most beautiful staircase. It’s only one staircase but it’s grand
and classic, made of marble and splits off at the top, to the left and right.
I’m on the right side looking down to the entryway. I grip the banister as I
step quickly, reaching the bottom and the most monumental solid oak door.
My eyes glance around the place, taken back by the pure opulence and
wealth I’m suffocating in. Who is this guy?
He has to have a serious amount of money, and as my eyes shift
around the walls, an oil painting catches my eye, the colours rich and
captivating. It’s tasteful and definitely an original, you can tell by the fine
pattern of cracks in the paint.
The marble floors and glass chandeliers boast wealth and luxury, and
I’m positive the chandelier alone is worth the cost of my house.
My feet slap against the marble as I swiftly move closer to the
enormous door that I hope is my exit, and it is.
I'm immediately hit with sea breeze and the smell of the ocean.
Turning my head to the right I can hear the waves before I see them, and the
further I move away from the door and curve slightly around to the right of
the house, I see it.
The ocean is literally right in front of me, and I feel the tiniest sense of
vertigo when I realize I’m standing on a cliff top. I’m not worried about
falling, because I’m not close to the edge, but I am so high up it makes my
head giddy.
The waves batter the shore, showing no mercy, crashing powerfully
against the cliff’s edge, I would guess no less than six-hundred and fifty feet
below the land that I am standing on.
I don’t know why I stay standing here watching Mother Nature at its
rawest, exhibiting her pure power, but I do.
I take a deep breath feeling the sea spray splash over me slightly whilst
the wind whips my damp hair around my face, stinging a little. I welcome
the sting, keeping my soles planted to the gravel beneath my bare feet.
The rugged points and edges of the little pebbles dig into my skin,
daring the layers to split.
I feel calm, mesmerized by the gray, stormy sea, recklessly causing
havoc, and I don’t want to move.
I want to be swept away, to be a part of the ocean; I want to be
powerful, dangerous, boundless and free.

21. I stay rooted to the ground; my bare feet welcoming the sharp, uneven
rocks digging into my skin. That's when I realize, I know this place. I used
to come here all the time, with my sister.

22. CHAPTER TWO
Lukas
I washed the blood from my hands as she slept and threw on a clean T-
shirt after giving her mine.
I almost had to laugh, as I had lost track of the number of times I
watched the water tinge with pinks and reds as I cleaned the blood of other
bodies off of mine, watching it all drain away until the water runs clear.

23. I’m not a good man, not at all. I am many things and good is most
definitely not one of them.
I weighed my options as the girl slept and I honestly didn’t know which
way to play it with her. I just stayed silent. How it had pissed her off
amused me.
Maybe I shouldn't have been such a dick considering the
circumstances but then again, that's just who I am and I'm not about to
change for anyone. Definitely not her.
The moment her eyes opened, those turquoise depths filled with chaos,
panic, and definitely a little bit of lust, hit mine. She’s feisty too, which
made my dick twitch when she demanded I answer her questions. I don’t
answer to anyone.
I didn’t miss the way she slowly took my body in and it’s no mystery
that she obviously liked what she saw. I doubt she noticed but I caught the
slight brushing together of her thighs giving away that she wanted me.
Not surprising really, I look good, and I am not in the slightest too
humble to admit it.
I'm not the complete twat I know I come across as—actually, I
absolutely am. I’m a product of the man who raised me, unfortunately for
the rest of humanity.
Yeah, I saved her life and brought her back to my home because it
seems even the demons inside me can’t resist the need to save a damsel in
distress.
Although I wouldn’t go as far as calling her a damsel. I despise
everything about that girl and her sister, they’re poison.
She doesn't know me, but I know her. I won’t tell her that though. As
for her questions, I don't like answering them—or to anyone, and she got
her first taste of that tonight.
I am privy to a lot of secrets and information that, under no
circumstance will reach the ears of those it isn’t meant for.
My life has always been full of darkness and deceit, it’s all I know, and
if there's anyone out there who wants to unlock the mysteries and riddles
hidden in my mind? Too fucking bad.
When I watched her walk away from me, the animal inside wanted to grab
her and lock her up with me. I tried to argue with myself that at least she
would be away from that infested hellhole she lives in with that vile fucking
excuse for a man.

24. I can't though, because I have more important rules I have to play by,
which is proving difficult because all I want to do is take her—again.
I see this shit all the time; fuck, I cause a lot of physical damage on too
many bodies to count.
Maybe it’s because she is a woman, and all the shit my mom went
through made it a trigger for me. But after seeing her body—covered with
scars, old and new, scrapes, cuts, and bruises on her beautiful, creamy
marred skin, I want to bury that fucker deep underground and lock her away
like the princess she is.
Despite my body and my dick telling me to grab her and put my mouth
on hers, I don’t, because while my body wants her, I know the truth. Emilia
Blake might be a cock tease just like her sister, but she will regret every
moment she has had with an Elin man, they both will—I’ll make sure of it.
A possessive fire burns deep down in my stomach and I know there’s
no way I’ll leave her alone for long, not with him. I might have rules to
play, by but I won’t see a woman, not even Emilia Blake go back to that
scumbag Cretan’s piece of shit house.
I’ll be back to collect what’s mine, but for now, I let her go.

25. CHAPTER THREE
Emilia
I'm at Penderal Bay, a small town that neighbors my own, but the
difference between Penderal Bay and Grotleyton is just like the symbolism
described in Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde and the houses they
inhabit.
Penderal Bay is clean, kept, and full of the elite. Grotleyton is the
dishevelled, dirty, and destitute place I call home.

26. I internally call it grottyton because that is the perfect description for
it, it’s poverty, grotty, dirty and inhabited by drug dealers, too many crack
dens to count, and one of the most popular hot spots for the crackheads?—
My house.
Looking down, I recognize the curved shaped of the bay, I know
exactly where I am, this is the beach, our beach.
Nostalgia hits like a ton of bricks at one of the few good memories I
have of her, before everything turned to shit.
Three years ago
We’re laughing, running across the sand together, our toes coasting
on the edge of the water as we run, her bright blonde hair whipping around
her face in the wind.
The sound of her laugh is something that could be irritating to some,
its high pitched and some may say it’s sickly sweet, but not me. I wish I
could bottle it up and listen to it whenever Lexi gives me shit and lays into
me, so I can remember the good in her.
She’s chasing me, trying to catch up with me after I stole her phone,
which she eventually does. I’m younger, and apparently the slower sister.
When she grabs me, she shoves me a little too hard, but it’s still
playful. The speed she runs into me throws us both to the sand in a tumble
of her tanned limbs and laughter, and she snatches her phone out of my
hand.
We have a complicated relationship at times, but I guess that’s similar
of most teenage sisters, and although we don’t always see eye to eye, I still
think of her as my best friend, my idol, my everything.
We both turn to look toward each other, still laying on the beach, the
sand beneath our backs. Her long blonde hair mixing with my dark brown,
almost ebony hair, we are two opposites in so many ways.
Only two years older than me, we have that connection that most
sisters so close in age have—on the good days that is, and when she’s
around. But I’ve always felt she was more… more adventurous, more
beautiful, more fun… Just more than me.
She turns her face towards mine, smirking a suggestive smile and I
know where this talk is going… boys, as always.

27. “So... I guess this is the part where you say I told you so…” she
glances towards me still with her smile etched into her face. I frown, a little
confused about what she means.
“You may have to be a little more specific, Lex, there have been too
many times I’ve said ‘I told you so’,” I joke.
“So funny, Emilia, I’m talking about that guy I’m friends with… well I
think I might like him… and I’m pretty sure he likes me. I mean I know most
guys like me, but he’s the one I want.” Lexi smirks and covers her face with
her hands, still turning her head towards me, her lips in a pout, her hands
then tucking under her head.
“Well fucking finally! I’ve been calling this for the past two months,
seriously, Lex! So, have you told him you like him because it’s obvious he
likes you a lot more than friends,” I tell her with a smile on my face. I like
seeing her happy and I’ve seen her so happy and alive whenever she has
been with this friend of hers. She won’t tell me who he is though. I think
she’s scared I’ll stalk him online and send some outrageous message
declaring her love for him… and she’s not wrong, I would totally do that.
There is a part of me that thinks it could be something else too.
The issue is, to be honest, I know she likes him, but she changes her
mind like the tide, and I do secretly worry that she will break this guy’s
heart, whoever he is.
Not intentionally, but it’s not the first time my sister has ‘accidentally’
led a guy friend on and ended up breaking his heart because… well I mean,
she’s gorgeous, she’s fun, she’s smart, and she’s witty. How could they not
fall for her?
She has this magnetism about her; she is enticing and that’s what gets
them, I guess.
I would never tell her to her face, but I also think that she likes the attention
too.
“So, are you ever going to give me the details—what’s his name, social
security number and his address just so I can see what’s the appeal and
who’s got my big sister all loopy?” I lean on my elbow turning my body
towards her, waiting for her to tell me.
“Hell no… not happening. I know you, and I know you will turn into a
creepy stalker and have his ‘details’ in a millisecond if I even say the first
syllable of his name,” she says, shaking her head at me. Her eyes dart

28. behind me looking up on the cliff’s edge. She quickly flicks her eyes back to
me, changing the subject.
“Anyway, Emilia, what about you, huh? Any lucky guys worth your
time?” she asks as she looks down at her phone, something catching her
attention making her snigger.
The question throws me off because we don’t ever talk about me, it’s
always about what’s going on with her, but I don’t mind.
Surely, she knows the answer to that question though, me and guys?
Yeah, no. Not happening. Firstly, because I’ve seen the way they are around
Lexi and I honestly think if one of those sleazeballs approached me,
hanging off my body like some horny limpet, as she lets them hang off of
hers, I would legitimately punch them in the throat.
I have no time for that kind of shit. I do not want the attention, and
even if I did it would not be from any of the guys I go to school with. They
are just a bunch of sexually aroused, egotistical boys that do not whet my
appetite, let alone my pussy.
“I think we both know the answer to that question, dear sister, and it is
a big, fat hell no.” I grimace as I answer her thinking about the "prospects"
at my school.
Lexi drops the subject, already lost in her phone and not paying
attention to me anymore. I accept that I’m probably going to be a crazy cat
lady for life and die an old, virginal maid, and I am very much okay with
that.
I look out to the horizon watching as the gradients of the ocean merge
into one, the blues and the greens so distinct and captivating. I love
watching the ocean. The way that the waves move, ebbing and flowing. The
ocean can express its emotions and change instantly.
Today it’s calm, the cool breeze and warm sunshine having lured many
locals and visitors down to Penderal Bay. Lexi and I have been coming here
for years since we were little. One of our mother’s old boyfriends would
bring us here… before he decided that our mother and us weren’t good
enough for him, and he left us—which sucked because he was actually one
of the more decent guys our mom dated.
Lexi snaps her fingers in front of my eyes gaining my attention, rapidly
taking me out of my daydream and watching the waves. “Okay, Virgin
Mary, let’s go home, I’m hungry and I have a boy to charm.” She winks

29. playfully in my direction and smirks as I glare at her after catching her not
so subtle gibe at my virgin status.
Lexi gets up rubbing the sand from her clothes, walking ahead of me,
and I swear I notice her gaze shift toward the cliffs again and snap back
when she sees me watching her.
We walk back to the car and get in as she turns the ignition cranking
up the music, blaringly loud. That gains us a few snooty stares from a
couple walking past us. And we’re gone.
That was a good day.
The sound of a rock splintering against the bottom of the cliff startles
me and snaps my attention back to reality and out of my memories.
My feet are still planted to the ground as the ferocious waves batter the
cliff below. Now I remember exactly where I am, staring down at the strip
of sand where my memory took place.
Lexi has been missing for two years, and the memory that seized my
mind a moment ago was one of the last memories I had with her.
My sister went missing when she was twenty years old, which means
she is twenty-two now—if she’s still alive. I am the age she was when she
disappeared, and the pain gets worse every minute that passes, like a knife
slowly twisted into my chest, causing unbearable suffering, but I’m still
here.
Still here—as in at this guy’s house, standing in his courtyard. I turn
my body and make my way up the path leading towards the huge iron gates
which suddenly open as I approach them. I turn my head tilting it upwards
to take a mental photograph of the place I was brought to after this man
kidnapped me and… saved me. Only then, when I’m gazing across the
building entirely made of glass, my eyes fall on ocean blue orbs, as stormy
as the waves. He’s watching me and doesn’t break eye contact or move
from the window, even though he has been blatantly caught. I won’t lie, it’s
starting to creep me out a little, and even though the whole situation here is
fucked up, the intensity he radiates is somewhat enticing.
I break the eye contact, losing this little staring competition, and walk
out the gate, heading to the last fucking place I want to go, home.

30. CHAPTER FOUR
Emilia
My feet are sore, bloody and screaming at me as I drag myself almost
seven miles back to Grotleyton, and I thank God it’s pretty mild out and my
body isn’t being too badly abused by the elements, considering I’m walking
back home in only a baggy T-shirt.

31. The number of judgemental glares I’ve gotten from snooty passers-by
is ridiculous, but not at all surprising. I look like I’m doing the walk of
shame—homeless edition. My hair is tangled and still damp because it
takes forever to dry, and my feet are shoeless.
Rounding the corner of my street, there are a few men loitering
around one of the cars out front, only a few houses down from mine.
Hollers and cat-calls ring out when they see me pass by and I have the urge
to nut each and every one of them, but also wish I could evaporate. I
recognize some of the men; they’re regulars at my kitchen table when
Robert, my stepfather, hosts poker night. They never actually play poker.
It’s just an excuse to get so fucked up on drugs and alcohol that they can’t
see straight. It’s also an excuse for some of them to try their luck with me—
which they do, relentlessly.
“Hey, Emilia,” one of them calls out, making my steps falter slightly,
my fists clench tight.
“I’d fuck you real good, baby… and I’d let you keep your shoes after.”
They burst out in laughter at my expense, and I have to fight everything in
me to retaliate. They’re pieces of shit, all of them, but they aren’t worth it.
They want a reaction, and the best I have right now is my finger. I flip
them all off behind me as I walk up the path to my front door. I just need to
get away.
When I reach the door, gently pushing it open, I’m met with quiet
inside of the house, and I send a silent prayer that he’s not home. Stepping
inside and gently closing the door behind me, I lock it and rush upstairs to
my bedroom.
I’m still cautious as I tip-toe quickly up the staircase and into my room
closing my door behind me. I’m always on edge here and it’s exhausting.
Robert rarely comes into my room, not since I had my locks installed.
Last night wasn’t the worst it’s been—not overall, but in terms of the near-
death part, yeah.
I turn the locks on my bedroom door—there are three—and collapse
onto my single bed. I am exhausted, sore, and my body is numb to feeling
anything except exertion and confusion over all the events from the past
eighteen hours.
All my body craves is sleep. I feel like I’ve not slept at all when in
reality I was passed out for most of the night. Fatigue falls over me rapidly
but not before the image of crystal clear and icy blue eyes plague my mind.

32. The picture grows even more intense and clear when I close my eyes; it’s as
if he has invaded a part of my mind and it’s reluctant to let it go.
Shaking myself out of it, I pull my headphones out of my drawer and
plug them into my ears. Music is my solace for most things but especially
here. I can drown it all out with the loud, heavy thuds of the bass.
I crank up Breaking Benjamin, turning up the volume until it hurts,
and ironically the angry, vengeful and violent songs always calm me, my
breath evens out and I can momentarily breathe again.
Minutes later, I’m still waiting for sleep to take me, my eyes sting, and
my body aches all over, yet my brain still can’t switch off.
Without warning I’m back in the bathroom replaying what I remember
from last night.
The water caressed my skin, the heat almost burning my skin in the best
way. I watched the droplets of water trail and dance over my body as I
shifted my legs slightly.
Leaning my head back and resting it against the edge I closed my eyes,
dreaming of an entirely different life.
My fingers skimmed over my necklace dangling from around my neck,
touching the locket which weighed the chain down a little.
I examined it, looking at it properly for the first time. It was my
sister’s. I found it in her room after she’d gone missing, and I was searching
for anything that might lead me and make me feel closer to her.
It isn’t her usual dainty but extravagant style of jewelery; it’s a little
masculine in a way that the locket is slightly too bulky, but that’s just my
opinion.
I jumped, dropping the locket, and the water swished over the side of
the bath from the sudden movement of my body when Robert hammered his
fists on the closed bathroom door.
“Jesus,” I said under my breath.
“I’ll be out in a minute,” I shouted loud enough for him to hear me
through the door.
The banging continued and I felt something was wrong. My hairs stood
on end even though I was submerged in hot water, as I worried what I could
have done now.
It could literally be anything. Last time I got a black eye it was
because I didn’t put his beers in the fridge, because god forbid, they aren’t

33. the perfect temperature for when he wants to go drown his liver in alcohol,
which is ninety-nine percent of each day, every day.
I wracked my brain trying to think of what I could’ve done that pissed
him off so much, my heartbeat getting faster with every pound on the wood
of the door separating us.
There was a loud splintering crack as the sound of splitting wood filled
the small bathroom. I screamed, covering myself out of instinct knowing I
was in danger and vulnerable. I only needed to see the rage in his eyes and
the beer-stained shirt to know he had found the alcohol, no problem.
“I heard about your little show you put on for the boys earlier. You
think you’re funny embarrassing me like that?” he slurred. Before I could
answer him, his fist cracked into the mirror above my head, shards of glass
falling down around me dropping into the water scraping and slicing
against my skin as I tried to move further away from him.
I screamed again when he grabbed me around the throat.
“You want a man to look at you and touch you, right?” His other hand
gripped around the top of my thigh, and his touch made bile rise in my
throat, and his hands were too fucking close.
He was referring to the "boys", who’d spent the night before in our
kitchen getting high, coming onto me, telling me I was asking for it by
wearing a fucking tank top, who I told to ‘fuck off’. He didn’t care about my
answer though because the psycho had already pushed my head under the
water. I scratched my fingernails deep into his arms trying to get free, to get
a breath.
I pierced deep into his side with my nails, knowing I had drawn blood,
and he loosened his grip only slightly, giving me a split second to take a
breath of air which was taunting me just above the water’s surface.
I cried at him to stop in the same breath, but I was under again, his
hands tighter around my throat cutting off the little oxygen I had just
desperately sucked in.
The only thing I felt now was the water burning me from the inside out,
my lungs and chest in agony as the pressure on my throat and my body
increased.
The pain was excruciating, but the longer I stayed down the more the
pain eased and washed away. Then everything went black.

34. Why did I come back? Because I literally have no other place to go,
or that’s what my pride tells me.
There is one other place I could go, but I don’t want to be a burden to
my best friend Melody. Maybe there is a part of me so damaged, that I’ve
become so dependent on and familiar with the daily abuse that I don’t know
what life is without it. And somehow that’s even scarier than the man who
sleeps down the hall.
Robert has never touched me intimately, and after last night I pray the
unwanted attention from his "buddies" doesn’t change that. The way he
grabbed my thigh, way too high up on my leg sends shudders through me,
still thinking about it.Honestly, I can handle the violence—the hits I can
take, and in a fucked-up way I think I crave them a little. If he ever tried
anything with me sexually though, let’s just say he wouldn’t have hands, or
a dick left. The knife I keep under my pillow would see to that.
The house remains quiet, and I can breathe for a moment. I try to
relax—the word alone is laughable; I haven’t ever been able to relax or feel
safe in my own home.
Even before Alexis went missing and my mom left, Robert was still
abusive, only verbally and emotionally. But when it was just him and I, it
turned physical. It didn’t escape me that all of his rage and anger was only
ever aimed at me, as if I had done something wrong.
He treated Alexis like a fucking princess, and I remember he would
take her out to the arcade, the fair ground, and to get ice cream, and leave
me at home with my mom, who ignored me the entire time.
I plug my headphones into my ears, hitting shuffle on Spotify,
replacing the noise inside my head with "Triggered" by Chase Atlantic.
Their voices are fucking heaven and it sends me into a mind-numbingly,
blissful unconsciousness.

35. CHAPTER FIVE
Emilia
I wake up shivering, having fallen asleep on top of my cover, still wearing
his T-shirt. I’m not sure how long I have been out for, but I can see light
breaking through the gap in the cheap, thin material of the curtains.
I feel around for my phone realizing I haven’t checked it since I got
back home this morning. To any normal person that would seem unusual

36. and be considered weird, except I’m not normal and I’m not tied to my
phone like most girls my age.
Social media doesn’t interest me, but I have the usual Facebook and
Instagram pages to please my best friend and appear somewhat "normal" in
society.
My body still aches all over, stiff from my muscles having been locked
up, tight and tense. My damp hair has now dried into some kind of bird’s
nest on my head, and I need a shower really bad.
I press myself between the door and the frame, then stand slightly
outside of my bedroom door as I listen for any signs that Robert is home—
but again, I hear nothing.
Tiptoeing through the narrow hallway toward the bathroom, I reach the
door, which is now in pieces all over the floor. Great, I’m going to have to
take the world’s fastest shower. Fortunately the shower isn’t in the direct
path of the door, just slightly around the corner on the right, but still—
there’s no fucking door.
The evidence of last night is still here. The bath half full with water,
now a murky pink-brown shade, tinted from the blood that seeped out of
my skin from the cuts of the glass, which still sting a little.
To be honest, I’d forgotten they were there until now, my adrenaline
had taken over the pain in my body for the most part. I emptied the bath,
waiting for the bloody water to drain away, unfortunately it didn’t take the
memories with it.
I look up into the mirrored cabinet to see my face split into a
kaleidoscope where the glass had been smashed. My eyes red and a little
puffy, I imagine from lack of sleep; the blue of my irises looks even more
vivid with the red that outlines them.
I think I have my mother’s eyes, though I would never know for sure
because my dad has been a no-show my entire life. Mine are a shade lighter
from what I remember of her eyes. She left me shortly after Lexi went
missing—said she couldn’t deal with the loss of her angel. Her perfect,
favorite child.
Because nothing hurts like your mother abandoning you and pretty
much admitting she doesn’t love you as much as your older sister, who also
left you. She left me with an abusive alcoholic who only took up the burden
of looking after me—yes, I use that term very lightly—because it meant he

37. got money as my guardian that he could flush down the toilet and waste on
drugs and alcohol.
Though I still don’t understand how he has enough money to afford the
house and everything—especially the Ford Mustang sitting in the driveway,
which I suspect is the shiniest object in Grotleyton, and I’m shocked it
hasn’t been stolen yet—because he sure as hell doesn’t pull his weight in
the community and contribute to society.
It doesn’t matter though, I don’t care, I learned not to care a long time
ago. I rely on myself and nobody else now. I might have had to learn the
hard way, but I soon grew up from being a vulnerable, timid little girl to a
strong, indestructible woman.
After emptying the shards of glass from the bottom of the bath and
tossing them in the trash, I turn on the water letting it heat up, surprised we
haven’t run out of hot water. Stepping into the shower under the spray, the
heat warms my body and stings my cuts just a little, but the burn feels good.
I am beginning to feel my self again, washing my hair and body feels good,
and I feel a little more human now that my muscles have been thawed.
I grab my towel from the tiny cupboard in the corner, wrap it around
my body quickly, and make my way back to my bedroom. After dressing in
my own clothes and brushing my hair out I grab my phone. I have some
notifications from people I know at school posting selfies of living their
very normal lives at university, partying, having fun, just generally living.
I didn’t go to college. After Lexi went missing, I was so distraught, my
head a mess and so full of confusion and pain, I couldn’t think straight let
alone complete all of the work I needed to do to get into a good university. I
take classes at the community college three days a week though, and that
seems to work for me, for now.
I’m studying criminal justice believe it or not. Ever since my sister
went missing and I witnessed first-hand how useless the authorities here in
Grotleyton and Penderal Bay have been, it gave me the drive to study
criminal law so I could eventually become a lawyer and do everything I can
to provide the innocent justice and put the corrupt and cruel behind bars.
I know it’s not that simple, and in a lot of cases the people who I
would be fighting for might be guilty, but I choose to wear my rose-tinted
glasses when it comes to that because sometimes ignorance is bliss. Stupid,
I know, but it’s where I’m at, it’s how desperate I am. I believe in justice

38. and want it for my sister because something is off, and I can taste the
bitterness on my tongue.
Checking through my messages, I see there is a message from Melody,
my best friend and literal guardian angel. Though she’s a total badass, you
wouldn’t know that by looking at her. Mel and I met each other when we
were little and have been joined at the hip since. She’s the fucking best and
pretty much my only friend, and that is totally by choice. I try to avoid
people at all costs, and she gets that. Fortunately for us, she is about the
only person I can tolerate and vice versa with me.
After Lexi went missing, I lost the few so-called friends I had, and
when I told Melody about what had happened to my sister, she didn’t push,
she didn’t show pity. She just accepted it, accepted me as this different
version of myself because it had changed me, and I’ll never be that girl
again.
If Melody is one thing, she is loyal down to a fault, always has been
since we were kids. You would never look at us and believe we were best
friends or even acquaintances solely based on the fact that I’m poor as fuck
and she is rich as shit.
I skim her message; she’s going off about some girl who is being a
bitch in her dance class where she attends a dance academy in the city. I
quickly reply.
My fingers hit send and I notice an unopened text. There’s no name, so
it must be a number I don’t have saved. I open the message.
Unknown: I want my shirt back.
Apart from the confusion swimming around in my head, all I can hear
is how Damien from Mean Girls wanted his pink shirt back.
It doesn’t take me long to figure out that this is the guy from last night.
It’s not like I go around stealing shirts on the regular, so the list is narrowed
down to just one.
Those eyes. His eyes were ingrained into my head, and just thinking
about the sharp angles of his face and the outline of his hard body makes
my body tingle, my hairs to stand on end.
What the actual fuck is happening to me? I do not react to boys like
this, well men. He definitely was not a boy.

39. I type out a message back, I am not about to play games with this
asshole. I haven’t forgotten how he refused to be of any help—minus the
saving my life part. He may have made my body react like some pent-up cat
in heat, but I still am not an idiot that I will just give in.
Emilia: I want answers.
Unknown: What answers do you want?
Emilia: How do you have my number?
My fingers lift to fiddle with my sister’s locket, which I do when I get
a little anxious, and I won’t lie, my stomach is in the process of tying up
some serious knots waiting for his reply.
Grabbing at my neck, I feel nothing but my skin—it is missing—my
only piece of her I have left. My mom had packed up her entire room,
literally everything, and took it with her when she left.
Where the hell is my locket? I never take it off and I almost feel guilty
it took me this long to notice its absence, but I’ve kind of had an eventful
twenty-four hours.
I know I was wearing it before everything with Robert happened, but I
don’t remember having it since. Not since him. Since he saved me, although
I’m not sure calling it "saving" is correct; he didn't act at all like some hero.
Normal people would welcome the attention and crave the thanks just
to feed their ego, but not him. Apart from pointing out my lack of manners
in failing to thank him and asking for his shirt back, he has been radio
silent.
Something that closely resembles anger burrows under my skin. My
temper can go from zero to rage in a second, and unfortunately for him, I’m
fucking pissed.
I don’t wait for a response. What kind of motherfucker steals from
someone after they have just saved their life?!
Emilia: Where is my necklace?! What the hell is wrong with you? I
know I was wearing it before!
Unknown: Can’t say I know princess. You should probably see a
doctor. Sounds like you’re confused.

40. I scrunch up my covers in my fists. I’m not fucking confused, in fact I
am very focused on the mental image of choking him to death, and it’s
crystal clear. I’m positive he has it, he has to.
Now the fucker is making me question myself. Did I misjudge what
happened or what might have happened? Could it have come off during my
struggle with Robert in the bath before? Maybe I dropped it or maybe it fell
off somewhere. I guess those are all viable possibilities, but right now I’m
pissed at him and need to blame someone. I need an outlet.
Me: I am not confused and if you don’t give it back you’re the one who
will need to see a doctor.
Unknown: Threatening me? I can’t decide if you’re brave or stupid.
Let’s pretend it’s the former and test that theory. In return I’ll let you
search my place. I’m feeling charitable.
My knuckles are white as I grip my phone, the plastic case cracking
under the pressure. My fury is a ball of fire in my stomach, and him
implying I’m an idiot and a charity case makes me want to claw his pretty
little eyes out.
I know I should say “fuck him” and not give in to his pathetic taunting,
but I’m sure he has my sister’s locket, and that is the most precious and
only thing I have left of her. There is no way I’m letting this prick steal it
from me. What is the point anyway? Judging from the stench of wealth
around him why would he want to steal some random girls’ necklace?
I don’t know if he’s bluffing, but I call it anyway.
Me: Your address?
Unknown: Tonight at 8. I’ll find you.
My body tingles reading the words, I’ll find you, over and over again.
It’s obvious he knows where to find me but the thought of being near him
again makes my skin prickle, like little needles are dancing on the surface,
my tummy tight with uncertainty.

41. CHAPTER SIX
Emilia
It’s already six-fifty in the evening by the time I wake up after falling
asleep again, and my stomach is growling at me when I realize I haven’t
eaten all day.
I haven’t heard anything from my stepfather at all either since I have been
back, thank God. It is a relief, and I can temporarily breathe, but it also puts
me on edge with every sound and movement I hear within the house. The

42. creaking pipes make my body tense up in apprehension of him coming
back.
Creeping out of my bedroom and down the stairs to the small kitchen,
my body sways a little, dizzy from the lack of food and water. I hold onto
the walls and the countertops for support as I search for something to eat. I
find a quarter of a loaf of bread looking like it’s a moment away from
growing fur on it, and some jam in the fridge, basic but effective. It’s not as
if I have any other options unless I plan on passing out very soon.
I can smell the bread as it turns from soft and white to golden brown—
the scent making my stomach growl even louder. After setting my meal
down on the table, I literally inhale the food so fast it might as well have
been a breath of air.
My stomach now extremely satisfied, I grab a bottle of water from the
fridge and gulp it down almost as fast as the food.
Now that my body has been fueled and my stomach is full, the
fluttering of something most people would refer to as butterflies—
obviously not me—dances around in my belly and makes me feel nauseous.
I settle on the feeling being revulsion and that is why I am feeling sick; the
anticipation of seeing this arrogant man again makes me sweat.
I busy myself washing the dishes and doing some reading for class to
pass the time, until there is a knock on my door. My pulse speeds up a little
and I hate myself for having a reaction like this. I mean it might not even be
him, but if it was Robert or any of the guys he hangs out with they wouldn’t
have knocked, they’d have slammed the door open. The wall is already
dented with holes from them doing just that, among other things.
I glance over at the clock hanging loosely on the kitchen wall, the
paint already cracked and peeling around it, 7:55. He is early, not by much
and instantly my unsettled stomach feels like it is about to eject my dinner
all over the floor. I will my food to stay in my body and take a deep breath,
again reminding myself that this is my body’s way of expressing disgust.
Pulling myself together, because this is ridiculous, I walk all three
steps to the door and yank it open with force, and as much I hate myself for
admitting it – I kind of lose my breath.
Why does he have to be so goddamn good looking! Literally this man
looks like he strutted out of GQ, albeit cockily, and now he’s at my door,

43. my tiny, grotty and tainted house. If I said it doesn’t make me feel a wave of
embarrassment, then I’d be lying. He doesn’t belong here, and it is
strikingly obvious to see, even from the freaking Mars Rover.
Dark blue, fitted jeans hug his long and muscular legs, tight but not so
tight that they’re sucking the life out of him, which I wouldn’t mind doing.
Oh my God, stop. My head and my hormones seem to be on two separate
wavelengths when it comes to this guy, and my hormones aren’t getting the
memo.
My eyes rake up over his torso and I feel my pulse throbbing under my
skin. He’s wearing a black t-shirt that hugs him tight, and perfectly clings to
his broad shoulders and muscles underneath. I lick my lips, instantly
regretting it when my eyes meet his. One dark eyebrow is raised and is
followed by a cocky smirk across his face as if he just caught me not so
subtly ogling him. Fucks sake, Emilia.
It is as if all of my sense and logic drifted out the door and into the
evening air when I stood in front of him.
All that stands in its place now is a bunch of female hormones and a
pair of eyes that are still spending way too much time appreciating his body.
I clear my throat to try to distract him and myself from the fact I am very
openly eye-fucking him.
Fuck it, I’m only human. My eyes are drawn back to his neck when he
swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat looking strong and
delicious. I don’t know why but the sight of his neck makes me remember
the absence of my necklace around mine, and the hormonal haze of lust
dissipates, reminding me why he is here.
I spin back around, snatch his shirt from the back of the chair and hurl
it at him. His hand snaps up swiping it mid-air before it hits him in the face,
and his quick reflexes make me internally sulk like a nine-year-old girl who
didn’t get what she wanted. Goddamn it.

44. CHAPTER SEVEN
Lukas
What the fuck am I doing here?
The entire drive over here I watched as it went from riches to rags in
fifteen minutes. Grotleyton is a shit-hole and that’s putting it lightly. Part of
me sits snug that karma seems to be playing its cards right when it placed
Alexis and Emilia here. They deserve this life, scum attracts scum. But then

45. I remember how I found Emilia a little under twenty-four hours ago, and I
feel a twinge of guilt for having those thoughts.
No. They deserve this shitty life, I refuse to feel guilty for that vapid
little bitch. She might be feisty, and my dick might like it (my dick
definitely likes it) but the Blake sisters are poison in a man’s veins.
The way she looked at me when she swung the door open rather
dramatically, irritated and intrigued the fuck out of me. She thought I didn’t
see her little stunt coming a mile off. I noticed my shirt on the back of the
chair in her small, decrepit kitchen area right before my eyes landed on her
tits. I saw the shift in her expression after she was blatantly eye-fucking me
and thought I wouldn’t notice. It’s something she should learn now and
learn fast—I notice everything, everything about her, the slight curves of
her body that I would have no problem squeezing in the palms of my hands
and exploring with my tongue. I might despise her, but my cock doesn’t
know the difference between mild interest and hate. I say mild interest
because the word love doesn’t have a place in my vocabulary.
The shift in her expression happened in a split second but I saw it. She
was staring at my throat like she wanted to suck it into her mouth between
those lush lips, her eyes brimming with desire. Then the switch flipped, and
her eyes were full of clarity. Emilia lifts her head tilting her chin up slightly,
with a look of defiance. She’s made up her mind about something.
My smirk is still plastered on my face as I take a few steps back, my
chin raised, looking down at her. Hoping she takes the hint that it’s time to
move her ass so I can get the fuck out of this town. For a moment she looks
as if she will stand her ground and stay rooted to the brown stained lino of
her kitchen floor, but changes her mind after a few seconds, taking swift
steps out the door, closing and locking it.
As much as I don’t want to, I can’t help but watch her as she strides
past me and over to my car, her fruity perfume hitting my senses as she
moves.
“I take it this is yours?” she asks, and I nod in reply.
“Of course it is.” Emilia shakes her head and laughs as she speaks, and
has her moment of prejudice. I am not quite catching on to what she means
but I couldn’t give a fuck.
I press the button on my key, unlocking the car with a beep, and round
the front of my Hummer over to the driver’s side, getting in. Emilia is still
walking over, taking her sweet time, and I seriously contemplate taking off

46. without her. I’ve got what I came here for, right? Yes, I got my shirt back
that I couldn’t give a rat’s ass about. I could pay the Queen of England to
hand stitch me a shirt and still have enough in the bank for ten more
lifetimes. That wasn’t the real reason I came back though.
After Emilia left my place this morning, I knew what I had to do and I
fucking hated the idea of it, but here I am. Waiting like some pussy-
whipped prick for a girl I can’t stand to hurry her ass up and get in the
truck.
When Emilia finally climbs up into the passenger seat—and I say
“climb” because that’s exactly what she did, the girl is fucking tiny—I
could swear my hair is starting to gray. I had been a second away from
slamming my palm on the horn when she sat down, her body stiff as she
strapped herself in.
I watch her in my peripheral, as I pull out and head back to Penderal
Bay.
She is blatantly uncomfortable and that makes two of us. Her back is
ramrod straight and she fidgets with her fingers, which I don’t think she
even realizes she’s doing. There’s a sense of self-preservation all around
her, and I get it, especially after what I saw last night. Her defiance and
attitude are a defense mechanism, and I can see through it for what it is. She
is only dependent on herself, especially now that her precious sister is no
longer around. And a microscopic part of me, deep, deep down in the pit of
my body respects her for it, for the strength she has coming back. It is
stupid, yes, but it took courage.
My eyes skim down and see a small cut on her wrist and my mind
instantly flashes back to last night when I found her.
I don’t ever go to Grotleyton if I can help it, but some asshole is
spreading word around that The Empire—which is exactly what it sounds
like, my family empire, named by my father—has some business in dealing a
dangerous synthetic drug to minors. Normally that wouldn’t mean anything
to me, but word is spreading, and I’m responsible for keeping our
reputation clean to the outside world. It’s everything but clean, but I still
need to eradicate the problem and will deal with them personally.
It just so happens that the person I am looking for is none other than
Robert Redman—Emilia’s stepfather—and the man responsible for bad
mouthing my business. But before I can handle him, a scream pierces into

47. the night that has my gut wrenching. Something takes over and I'm out of
my truck, following the sound, the soft voice of my mother’s words, “Fight
for the good… never give up on the innocent,” plays out of nowhere inside
my head. My body moves so fast I don’t remember how I get there. But
before I know it, I am standing in the doorway of a bathroom, the wood
scattered all over the floor, glass everywhere and a man yells down at the
water in the bathtub. Everything after happens in slow motion. My eyes
follow his glare down to a body violently thrashing around while his hand
grips her neck, the other moving up her thigh. Fuck. That.
Time speeds up and the beast is unleashed. I drag him backwards by
the reeking stained T-shirt, swing my fist into his jaw sending him straight
down, out cold. The guy is unconscious on the floor and the girl in my arms
in the next second, as I storm down the hallway looking for something to
wrap her naked body in, and somewhere I can check she is still fucking
breathing.
I don’t know how long she’s been underwater for but after kicking a
door open, I find a room that looks like it could be hers, with discreet
feminine touches around the room. I take in her body, it's limp and painted
with open cuts and scrapes, and red with blood. They don’t go deep from
what I can see from first glance, but I don’t want to look too closely out of
respect for her. She is vulnerable being unconscious and naked. I won’t lay
a hand on a woman, but if someone were to walk in right now, it wouldn’t
look good.
I'm not worried about her stepdad waking up. He will be out for a
while and even if he does wake, I can kill that motherfucker with my pinkie
finger. I don’t give a shit about him even if he is the reason I am here to
begin with. I am more focused on the wet, damaged and beautiful girl in my
arms.
I lower her down onto the bed, pull off my T-shirt, fit it over her head
and gently move her arms through the sleeves. She needs to stay warm and
the heat from my clothes and from my body will keep her body as warm as it
can be, which is what I tell myself as I lift her back up from the bed and into
my body. I hold her close to me and feel strangely peaceful amidst all the
chaos.
I scan her drawers and nightstand for her phone. I know I am taking
her with me but when she does eventually wake up, I don’t want her to freak
out and think I am some creep that has kidnapped her. Well, that is a little

48. bit true but at least if she knows I brought her phone she won’t be afraid,
and she’ll know I won’t hurt her. I pull back her duvet, open drawers—all
while holding her in my arms in search of her phone. I don’t have any luck
and have to move quickly to avoid the cops potentially showing up. They
can’t touch me, but I don’t want any more shit to deal with.
I carry her to my truck, parked just around the corner. I move fast, not
wanting to be seen by anyone passing by, though I doubt anyone would bat
a lash. Crime is a constant in this town, so much so that everyone pretends
not to see it when it is right in front of their eyes.
My eyes steal glances at her every few seconds as I make my way to
the car. She looks so innocent and helpless in that moment, and it makes me
feel sick to my stomach. The thoughts running through my head of what
might have happened if I had not been here, if I didn’t hear her or had
decided to go against the instinct that possessed my entire being and had
me moving without thinking, as if it was a reflex. It isn’t worth thinking
about, but my chest is pulled tight with the thought.
I lay her down gently, along the seats in the back of my truck and pull
a blanket from the rear, covering her. I miss the heat of her beautiful body
on mine, but I am not so self-absorbed that I will put my feelings before
hers right now. I need to move fast and keep my focus.
I slam the door closed, launching into my seat, turn the ignition and
glance in the rear mirror just to make sure the coast is still clear and
fortunately, it is. My foot heavy on the accelerator, I race down the street
heading back to the only place I can take her, want to take her.
During the short drive toward Penderal Bay, I glance back at her
watching the rise and fall of her chest and thank fuck her breathing is
steady. The stones and pebbles crunch underneath the tires that cover my
driveway as I slow the car to a stop, being hyperaware of how hard I hit the
brakes, not wanting to send her flying off the seat. Jumping out, I make a
quick job of hugging her body to mine, shielding her from the chill still
lingering in the air. Barrelling through the foyer and upstairs into my
bedroom I lay her down onto my bed, before wrapping her body up in my
duvet trying to get her trembling body to warm.
When I am half satisfied that the shaking has calmed down enough, I
grab the first aid kit from my bathroom—which is always close by for easy
access; I need it a lot. I peel back the covers from her body little by little

49. and inspect her cuts once again and clean the blood away, dabbing them
delicately, before applying antiseptic cream, noting that fortunately she
won’t need any stitches.
I pack all the first aid shit away and dispose of the bloody gauze in the
trash and go back to her. I sit in my chair across the room from her and
wait. Then I get impatient and want to see her, really look at her. I can tell
she is beautiful but before I even register what I'm doing the curiosity and
tightening in my stomach makes my legs move to my bedside so I can see
her. Like she pulls me closer, which is fucking weird.
Her face is a delicate oval shape, feminine and so fucking beautiful,
her cheekbones pronounced and draw the curve of her face outwards
slightly in such a pretty way I want to touch them. Her eyebrows are neat
and has a little arch that can easily form a look of mischief if she wants
them to. I wonder if she likes a little mischief… maybe I can show her some.
I pull at my lip thinking of all the trouble we can get in to and it doesn’t take
long for my mind to hit the gutter and my dick to swell in my jeans. If
someone could read my perverted ass mind right now…
The skin on her face is youthful and porcelain, similar to mine. Though
she has a light dusting of freckles over her nose and a few on her cheeks. I
want to count them all and kiss them one by one. Her nose is like a pixie’s,
small with a little point at the end that turns up the tiniest bit. My eyes are
bathing in her beauty as they study every surface on her face. Her lips are
one part I don’t linger on for too long—they are pink, full and begging to be
sucked into my mouth and bitten. I move on from them quickly, half afraid
I'll act on my impulse to taste them. Long dark lashes rest on her cheeks as
she sleeps, and that is the other part of her face I desperately want to drown
in. If the rest of her looks this good, then I’ll be gone when she opens her
fucking eyes. My mind races with images of how they might look… Are they
dark brown and chocolatey, like her hair, maybe hazel, or green, emerald
green or moss green? Or maybe gray, or blue, like mirrors of my own.
I read once that the odds of having blue eyes and dark hair is pretty
unusual because of the contrast between the melanin in them. Blue eyes
aren’t actually blue, they appear that way, they reflect what we see, similar
to the ocean.
I stand there, watching her body as the rhythm of her breathing finally
evens out, and the tremors of her body have stopped altogether. Thoughts of
what will happen now are spinning hastily inside of my head and I toy with

50. the idea that maybe I can keep her. I can protect her and keep her safe and
maybe she will want me to. She can’t want to go back to that life, to that
piece of shit at her house. Maybe I can save her like I couldn’t save my
mother. She would be proud; maybe she’d forgive me for the person I am
and for the things I do.
That’s when something clicks. Something I wish never slot into place in
the puzzle inside of my mind. I pull out my phone from my back pocket and
check the address of where I was meant to go tonight. Robert Redman’s
address followed by a photo of his house.
Fuck! No. No. No.
I clutch my phone so tight I feel the case crack. The house that I ran
into after hearing her screams, after my body moved before my head could
catch up and Robert fucking—scumbag, druggie and snitch—Redman’s
house are one in the same. Which means one thing. The girl living under his
rotting roof, the one currently naked and wrapped up in my shirt and in my
fucking bed, the girl I’m sure would be dead if I hadn’t found her, is Emilia
Blake, the girl I hated, hate. Emilia and her sister Alexis are responsible for
a missing piece of the cold, black heart that resides in my chest. But why
does the hate I associate with her name dissipate when I look at the girl
who embodies it?
I shake my head, trying to clear it of this new revelation. No matter
how I try to hate the woman before me, my body doesn’t listen, my breathing
grows shallow and fast, my pulse quick. Something is fluttering around in
my stomach and my dick is still painfully hard for her. I crack my knuckles,
half-way close to punching myself in the nuts because there’s no way I
should be reacting to her like this. It’s too fucked up, I’m too fucked up. I
can’t be thinking like this. I have a role to play and a job to do, and if I want
to find out what I need to know, then I can’t afford to be having feelings that
can rival a horny fifteen-year-old fucking teenager. I can’t afford any kind
of connection with Emilia Blake, especially emotionally. “Never give up on
the innocent.” Mom’s voice replays in my head again and I scoff. Emilia
Blake is not an innocent and I will make sure I ruin her.
I pace around my bedroom, thinking how I can make this work to my
advantage but stop short when I hear movement, her legs brushing against
the sheets as she starts to come to. I send a quick text message to Sergio, my
driver and also the best hacker I know, to find out her number and send it to
me asap. I rub my eyes, which are stinging now and realize I haven’t slept

51. at all. The sun is rising—I can see the light through the blinds—and my
phone says it is five-fifty in the morning.
I know I have to let her go, for her own safety. I'm not sure if that is for
her protection from the hatred that spreads through my body like wildfire
when I think of her and her sister. Or if it is protection from my cock which
will happily show her all the ways I’d like to fuck her up, literally, and hard.
The martyr in me feels sick at the thought of letting her leave, because
I suspect the only place she will go will be back to the hellhole, with him.
But I have already decided that she'll be back here whether she likes it or
not, and soon. Sergio will watch her for me as soon as she steps foot off my
property, not because I care about her, but because I owe it to my mother,
the martyr in my mind reasons. It also serves me to keep tabs on her. If I
keep a close eye on her I can uncover every little deceptive thing about her,
and make her fall so much more satisfying when she hits the jagged rocks
waiting for her at the bottom of her lies.
As my eyes gaze back over to her, my mind—which is all over the
fucking place—drifts back to Robert. I wonder if he's conscious yet. I hope
he is just coming to now; I hope he can’t see through the stream of blood
running down his face. I hope the pain is intense, and I wish I’d hit him
harder so I would’ve finished the job. But that would be way too easy. I like
to play with my prey before ripping it to shreds. He is her guardian, and it is
fucking laughable referring to that piece of shit as anyone’s guardian. What
I don’t get is why she's still there. She’s twenty years old, she’s an adult.
Just get a job and move away from the motherfucker. Maybe the sick bitch
secretly likes it.
I had gone easy on him, especially considering what I walked in on.
Unfortunately for me that meant I couldn’t dish out his karma right then,
she was my only focus.
I clench my fists tight as I see it playing out in my head again. The
rage is almost blinding, but strangely, even now knowing who she is, the
thought of her being hurt or worse is agonizing. Why?
I shake the thought away, consciously blocking any connection or
feelings I'm having toward her, because once again I am letting my
emotions for the girl she could’ve been—before I had figured it out—get the
better of me. I take a deep breath—some clarity, logic and resolve returning
on the exhale. I do not have any feelings toward her. I can’t have. The only
sensation that sears throughout my body, straight through muscle down to

52. the bone, is pure, unadulterated loathing. I need her for a reason. I’ll keep
her close, safe and sound, then I will obliterate her with her own lies. She is
nothing.
My exterior is ice cold, and as far as she is concerned, I am a fucking
glacier. I have a purpose and unfortunately for this sleeping beauty, she will
undoubtably be the collateral damage.
I don’t realize my mind has drifted until she clears her throat next to
me in the passenger seat, clearly trying to bring me back to the moment. I’d
driven on autopilot which could’ve ended very badly for both of us, and I
have no doubt I crossed quite a few red lights on the way here.
Here.
Why the fuck did I drive to Penderal Bay, not the town—obviously I
drove to the town, it’s where I live—but why did I drive to the beach?
I stop the car when I realize I drove into the parking lot which looks
straight onto the sand and sea. My eyes cut over to Emilia sitting in the seat
next to me; her close proximity makes my pulse erratic and my blood boil,
and the battle of rage and lust is overwhelming, but I can deal with it. I
figure I could hate fuck her. It’s not like my dick has any attachment to the
women I’m inside of anyway, and she wouldn’t be an exception. Emilia
isn’t as stiff or rigid as she when she got in the car, unlike my cock is, now
that images of me fucking her play around in my imagination. She looks
tired, her shoulders slouch forward a little as her eyes are fixated on the
waves crashing on the shoreline—the sea spray whipping up into the air and
being carried by the wind. I am pissed off that she looks relaxed. She
shouldn’t be remotely comfortable with me—especially with me—but she
is none the wiser. It seems she’s unaware of who I am, and she is definitely
unaware of what I am capable of.
When I abruptly throw my door open I notice her flinch a little. Maybe
it’s not me who she feels at ease around, maybe like me, it’s the ocean. That
irks me even more though. What the fuck, I’m not going to… Fuck.
Of course, I know why now. She lives a life not many dream of, and I
can relate. From the outside, my life looks like a goddamn fairy-tale but
despite what everyone might think they know, under the veil of perfection
lives power hungry, ruthless and reckless evil. I crack my knuckles thinking
of how her stepfather would look on the receiving end of them—again—
and turn my attention back to Emilia when she speaks just before I can

53. escape out of the truck. Her body language has shifted again. She doesn’t
look calm anymore, her shoulders tense and bunch up toward her neck.
“What are we doing here? You said you would take me to your house
to get my locket.” She looks like she wants to boil me like a lobster they
cook down the street in the local seafood restaurant, but I am starting to see
through her mask. I’ve seen her soft and vulnerable, and the idiot inside me
wants to save her, protect her, to own that girl, the soft and helpless one.
The sassy, rude and feisty Emilia just makes me want to fuck her mouth so
she can choke on me and her own fire.
I can’t actually give her an answer because I don’t even know why I
drove here, I just did. Maybe somewhere deep, deep inside I want to have
this connection with her—the girl who softened me like butter in a pan the
moment I laid her down in the back of my truck—but my fucking ego pipes
up again reminding me of the truth, that both sides of her are one in the
same. My real motive with her and her sister is one thing, and that means
there isn’t any room for me to be the man my mother would’ve wanted me
to be. He was long gone.
I don’t answer her. I enjoy pushing her buttons and the way her voice
reaches octaves only dogs can hear when she gets frustrated. I move the
rest of my body from the truck and slam the door shut, giving her nothing.

54. CHAPTER EIGHT
Emilia
What the hell is he doing?
As much as I love it here, I don’t love it at all when it’s him sitting
next to me or leaning on the hood of his truck like he is now. Moving my
head and tilting it to the side a little I see his angular jawline; it ticks a
couple of times before I see traces of a slow smirk. He’s smug as fuck,
intentionally pissing me off and enjoying every second of it.

55. I shove the door open a little too forcefully, and he doesn’t seem
phased at all which just annoys me more. I just want to get to his house, get
in and get out. I hastily move my body out of the car taking a step toward
him, crossing my arms over my chest, jutting my hip out impatiently. When
I raise my eyebrows at him in question, he turns his head looking into my
eyes.
My breath catches under his intensity and I can feel my body reacting
again, stomach tensing, heat spreading throughout my body from the tips of
my toes to the crown of my head—like the heat from his gaze which is
laced equal parts with disgust and desire. I break eye contact, not sure of
what to make of the way I respond to him. I will not lose control of myself.
I never lose control and I’m not planning on doing it any time soon.
The deep, low chuckle, almost sounding like a scoff, and the irritation
in his exhale does something to me. I figure if I go along with whatever he
is doing for now, I can get what I need faster. I move around to the hood of
the car and lean my ass against the matte black bumper, as I’m not exactly
tall enough to comfortably sit on the hood of his car, being 5’4”. That and
the fact his Hummer is huge. I look out ahead of us and watch the waves
rolling in, despite my body aching to check out another view to my right,
but I keep my eyes focused on the soft blues and greens merging together
like a slow dance. Ebbing and flowing, pushing, pulling, but never resisting.
One movement flowing into the next so effortlessly, it’s mesmerizing.
I feel the heat from his body and glare as I move my eyes up to his.
I am unguarded and uncomfortably out of my element but not because of
him. Because in the moment when I’m watching the waves, I feel all my
emotions and vulnerability that I try to shove down to the depths of myself
and pray they won’t ever resurface. I should know better though.
The ocean influences me, my mind, body and soul to open and feel a
connection that is otherworldly. It always has. Even when Lexi and I would
spend whatever time we could on the beach, I would always get lost to the
sea, despite my sister babbling on about whatever guy took her fancy or
which of her so-called friends was being a bitch that day (It was usually her,
but I would never tell her that). I would always zone out and find my solace
in the ripples and rolls of the waves.
She grew even more distant toward me the summer before she disappeared
—the coldness in her treatment of me turning to ice. Then she was gone.

56. Fire ignites my body once again when I meet his gaze and I see all
traces of humor are gone from his eyes. The disgust that swam in them
moments ago has diffused a little, and there is almost understanding in
them. That couldn’t possibly be the case, a man like him doesn’t have the
faintest idea of what my life is like let alone understand any of it, or me.
You know when you don’t need any words because the moment is
enough? That is this moment. I feel as if the chains around my body holding
the real Emilia Blake captive have been cut free, but I am exposed and that
scares me. My guard is down without my permission and it isn’t safe.
I blink away the moisture that glazes over my eyes and the guard is
back up. I can’t make eye contact with him again because as cliché as it is
and as much as I hate to admit it, my eyes really are the windows to my
soul. I’ve never been able to hide my feelings, and you better believe I try. I
try damn hard to keep the blinkers closed, but there is something about him,
and as much as I try to fight it, there is something I can’t explain that lures
me closer; and it doesn’t just scare me, it terrifies me.
I move to grab my phone from my pocket to check the time and see
almost an hour has passed.
Nothing but our breathing and the crashing of waves fills the air
echoing around us and we still haven’t moved. The heat of his body radiates
warmth into mine, which I am secretly pretty thankful for as it is getting
cold and nearly dark, the sun vanishing on the horizon.
I shift my body, finally breaking the comfortable silence by speaking
to him.
“Look, this has been really nice and all but I really need to get back
home soon. I have college in the morning and I don’t want to be—” I stop
speaking when his head snaps toward mine like something has sparked his
interest, eyes glistening, hard and a little intrigued.
“Let’s go. I’ve got shit to do too,” he snaps, pulling out his phone and
typing out a text, I assume. And just like that, the asshole is back and I’m
seriously considering if he has some kind of personality disorder because
his mood swings seem to be on a whole other level.
He stands abruptly, moving to the driver’s seat and slamming the door
closed behind him. He then has the fucking nerve to toot the horn, scaring
the ever-living shit out of me. I swear I jump a solid two feet from the car.
At least he has a sense of humor, one that almost results in giving me a
full-blown heart attack and nearly ending me on the spot, but there is

57. something inside of him besides pure assholery, if that is even a word.
I know he has a conscience and a heart somewhere deep down inside
of that body carved by the Greek gods, especially after what he did for me.
But I find that hard to remember when he is nothing but ice.
I am stubborn, guarded and have an attitude—I know I do—and I’m
also not blind to his appeal and the attraction my body has toward him. But
I have to be cold and unattached. It is what has kept me sane all this time,
and I find it hard to believe that when someone does something that is
deemed an act of goodness and decency, that they aren’t getting something
out of it for themselves.
In my reality there is always an ulterior motive, which is why I am
emotionally closed off for the most part, and it will take more than a man
that drips sex appeal, flawlessness and mystery to strip through the layers of
barbed wire I have wrapped myself in for so long.
I shoot daggers at him as I make my way back into the truck, my heart
rate still erratic. I throw my ass down on his seat pulling the seatbelt across
my body hastily when he turns the ignition and the music up drowning out
any words I may have had to say. Fortunately for him, the lyrics coming
from the song are a lot less explicit than the ones about to explode out of
my mouth.
Once again, we sit without speaking, but the energy coming from our
bodies speaks louder than words do anyway.
I still didn’t even know his name, and if you look at it from an outsider
or a sane person’s point of view, this whole situation is fucked up.
Nonetheless, here I am, sitting in a car with the stranger who saved my life
twenty-four hours ago, on route to his house for the second time. Although
this time I will be conscious when we arrive.
The sound of stone crunching under the tires causes me to snap back to
reality, jolting me out of my thoughts when the music cuts out abruptly. His
house (it is a mansion, but the word feels uncomfortable on my tongue for
some reason) looks even more powerful and daunting than it did before, the
glass reflecting the black of the night sky. It is a strange feeling of relief—
being here again—mixed with uncertainty, and I know instantly that feeling
is connected to the man sitting beside me.
All I can hear is the thump of my heartbeat in my ears as my nerves
start bouncing around in my stomach. The variety of emotions pulsing

58. through my body confuses me, but I need to stay focused on the reason I am
here. Stay focused, Emilia. Don’t lose sight of why you are here.
He gets out of the car, slamming the door shut and not bothering to
wait for me before opening his front door which is already unlocked.
I am relieved to have a moment to myself to breathe and get my shit
together. I am willingly entering his domain—again—and cannot afford my
pussy to take over.
After a few deep breaths, my head leaning back on the headrest, I close
my eyes and break out of my stupor. After a few moments I open the door
and jump down onto the pebbles crunching under my boots, I follow him
inside trying to maintain a steady pulse as I close the door behind me. I take
in the foyer for a second time, a great open space that can literally fit my
entire house twice over. Rich prick. I shouldn’t judge—especially since my
best friend is just as rich as I suspect he is, but I don’t particularly like this
man, so there’s that.
Most of the time, I try my best to not let one of my many egos lead.
But judgemental personalities rear their heads sometimes—times like this—
when one man needs a freaking mansion this massive, it seems so conceited
and way too over the top, as if it is something to flaunt in my face.
But then again, I guess because I live in a shoebox by comparison,
I’m bound to get a little jealous. It doesn’t feel like jealousy though. For
some reason I feel like I’ve been robbed of something, which is stupid and
doesn’t make any sense.
Why do some people have so much and others, like me, have so little?
Light catches my eye and I move my gaze down to the marble floor
again, glistening under the lights of the chandelier. I hear a sound coming
from a room off to the left, not sure if it’s him or someone else, maybe it’s a
maid?
Surely, he has a maid in this monster mansion. I go to speak out and
make myself known but as I walk toward the room something catches my
eye across the foyer straight ahead. It looks as though it’s his office, the
door is open slightly, so I mean technically it’s not like I’m snooping or
anything, and he did bring me here to find my sister’s necklace so…
Right, Emilia, whatever helps you sleep at night.
The dark rich mahogany of the furniture drenches the room in
masculine energy. It’s overwhelming, powerful, alpha-y, and I’m not gonna
lie, if a room is going to turn you, on it’s this one.

59. Tall bookshelves filled with books from floor to ceiling cover the walls on
the right side of the office. A man who reads is a sexy man—fact.
Although, you wouldn’t think he reads by looking at him. I wouldn’t say
I’m judging him, it’s just an observation.
The desk is minimal with a large Apple computer, a coaster and a
paperweight. The walls are bare, no photos of him, family, or a girlfriend—
nothing at all.
If you wanted a peek into this man’s personality the books would be
the only indication or hint into his soul. I gravitate toward the novels that
plaster the wall, interest and curiosity clawing their way up and wanting to
know something about him. Anything at this point will ease some of the
mystery that surrounds him.
Before I can take in the bindings of the books, the door slams shut
with a loud bang. I spin around startled and fucking caught.
Blue slits glare at me as my pulse speeds up. He clutches one crystal
glass filled with an amber liquid in his hand, which immediately causes
saliva to flood my mouth. His grip is so tight that I’m surprised the crystal
hasn’t shattered in his hands under the pressure. He steps toward me slowly,
and suddenly I feel very much like the prey being hunted by the predator.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end in warning. The adrenaline
that flows through my veins is not that of fear though, it’s the thrill of the
danger; it’s exciting and addictive. I like it. I crave it.
He tilts his head to the side, waiting for me to explain myself. His
glare still on me, he takes another step toward me and I take a small step
back, feeling the bookshelf against the back of my thighs and ass. My heart
rate picks up again realizing I have nowhere to go, nowhere to move. After
everything I have been through at home and the past couple days especially,
I should feel intimidated, maybe even scared because let’s face it, even
though he showed an act of humanity, he is dark and dangerous. I don’t
need to know him to know that much. My instincts are strong, and I know
I’m in trouble. Good.
What can I even say?... "Oh sorry, yeah I was just attracted to your
literary interests".
Still doesn’t explain what I’m doing in his office regardless of the
shitty excuses I am making up in my head to cover my ass.
As each second passes he takes another slow, deliberate step toward
me, his mouth turned up very slightly at the corner.

60. Why am I not saying anything? Why do neither of us ever say
anything? It’s as though our energy, the tension and the silence—apart from
my breathing which is getting closer to panting by the second—is so thick.
It’s so much stronger than words. Like we somehow communicate through
feeling; our bodies and souls talk.
I can’t think straight. I feel like I’m melting under his ice-cold glare—
oh the irony—as he moves closer to me, his feet almost touching my shoes.
I audibly swallow, my eyes tethered to his. He is still waiting for an
explanation for why I took myself on a tour without permission.
Clearing my throat, I try to think of something to say but my brain
has deserted me. My mind and my body are both failing me on so many
levels right now.
“I… I saw the books and the door was open so I—" He cuts me off.
Weak, Emilia, weak.
“You thought you’d come into my office uninvited?” The venom laced
on every word sends shivers all over my body. His eyes rake down my body
all the way to my toes and back up to glare into my own. He takes a breath,
his smirk deepening as he inhales. I don’t say a word.
“I can be very hospitable, Emilia. All you have to do is ask.” He takes
a large mouthful of the amber liquid, whiskey, I’m guessing from the smell.
Licking his lips as he watches mine, he moves his free hand closer toward
me until his fingers are lingering under my breasts, his thumb brushing just
underneath the wire of my bra.
He offers his glass to me, the one he just drank from. I know I
shouldn’t take it, but I need the liquid courage right now. I take the glass,
desperately wanting this tension to dissipate so I can think clearly, and at
the same time willing it to quench the thirst I can feel in another part of my
body.
Why do I react to this man like this? I can’t function with a foggy
mind where my principles and all sense go out of the fucking window.
My brain short circuits when he dips his fingers into the glass, lifting a
cube of ice to his lips, his tongue slipping out of his mouth to lick the corner
of the melting cube. His pupils are dark and daring as he watches my lips
part, being teased into submission. His eyes shift up to mine locking his
ever-darkening crystal gaze onto my own as he slips the ice past his lips and
into his mouth. He crunches the cube between his teeth, his jaw snapping
down violently, startling me out of the haze I’m in.

61. I feel like I have been drugged, I feel high. My whole body buzzes
with electricity and anticipation, and all I want to do is bring my lips to his
and taste the heat on his tongue and the ice that merges with it. My body is
on fire; I’m throbbing and so wet.
Just as I am toying with the idea of saying fuck it and slamming my
lips onto his, he douses my flames with a healthy dose of his own ice when
he throws his head back and laughs a humorless single laugh. Turning his
back on me and nodding his head toward the door, he snarls, “Get the fuck
out.”
My feet move so fast out of the door, I almost trip. I feel humiliated
and like such a fucking idiot. I was practically salivating all over him, ready
to do just about anything, and for me that’s a massive deal, astronomical
since I still wear my chastity belt loud and proud. Well, maybe not loud, but
I have no problem with being a virgin at twenty years old; it’s entirely my
choice and I’m cool with that.
I’ve lost a lot of myself at the hands of other people which has been
out of my control, but this is mine, to keep or to give away whenever I
choose to.
Not sure where to go or if I should just leave and walk home, which I
really don’t want to do, I just hover outside the door wracking my brain for
something to say. A few minutes later he opens the door, the type of heat in
his gaze isn’t one I want to challenge. He looks angry, scary angry.
“Look, I’m sorry, okay? But you don’t understand that locket is
important to me and—” He cuts me off again stepping closer so that we
stand only a few feet apart, his eyes and mouth tense.
“And you thought I stole it from your neck the night that I fucking
saved your life?” He is seething, so mad that his body nearly shakes and I
kind of get it, but he just doesn’t understand. No one does. I step closer to
him; I’m pissed now too.
“You know what I think? I think it’s fucking rich you want me to
explain myself when you haven’t even told me your fucking name. You’ve
given me nothing so what the fuck am I supposed to do!? You aren’t going
to give me answers so I tried to find some myself.” I spit back, my anger
returning full force. Who the fuck does he think he is?
He moves into my space, crouching down his nose almost touching
mine as he grabs me around the throat, roughly pinning me to the wall.

62. “Did you have any luck, princess? What did you find? Apart from the
fact your pussy is dripping wet desperate for the tip of my tongue to come
and lick you up.”
My jaw drops open in shock. I am furious. I don’t think I have ever
been this raging mad at another human being or been so incredibly turned
on in my life. Those words. Fuck.
Anger stirs around in my belly with something else—I don’t know
what—like some kind of lethal cocktail. I want to punch him in his arrogant
face for speaking to me like that but… I want more of him speaking to me
like that. I want his tongue on me like that because despite me wanting to
dick kick him right now, when he had the tip of his tongue flicking around
the ice cube, all I was thinking about was the tip of his tongue flicking all
over me.
The fire burning through my entire body turns to something else that
resembles fear, as his grip around my throat gets a little tighter. I am
beginning to realize that there is definitely more to this man than meets the
eye. I feel my body reacting to him when he is around. But could that
feeling of butterflies be a heady mixture of attraction and desire or is it my
instincts telling me to run from the man who saved and protected me? And
kidnapped me. Shit.
I realize in this moment that I am so screwed. Not only because my
feet are rooted firmly in place flat against the marble, but also because I
don’t want to run. I’ve never felt like this before, not an ounce of dread but
only danger, the thrilling and exciting kind—the risk of being so close to
what might be even more dangerous than anyone I’ve ever encountered, my
stepfather included.
“You keep that mouth open for much longer and I can find something
to fill it up, sweetheart. I don’t like people touching my shit so have some
fucking respect when you are in my home. And do not even think about
lying to me because I can see right through those pretty little eyes,” he
seethes.
I feel his hot breath skimming across my lips and his voice lowers to a
dangerous tone.
“You don’t want to see my bad side so don’t fucking push me. You go
where I tell you and that’s. Fucking. It. Understood?” he warns.

63. Loosening his grip on my neck, his fingers skate down the side of my
neck and over my collarbone, sparking up an inferno at the same time as my
body shivers, goosebumps covering every bit of skin. The heat radiating off
of him and onto to me is so agonisingly blissful I don’t want to move. I
glance down, my eyes pausing on the way, there is a massive bulge in his
trousers, and I have never been possessed with such a powerful desire to
reach out and touch him. I don’t even want to begin questioning which of
my countless issues this stems from. The man pretty much just threatened
me, and I want to reach out and grab his dick. Fifty shades of fucked up
right here.
When I meet his gaze again, his eyes still blue slits staring daggers
straight through me waiting for me to obey him and tell him yes, I
understand and bend to his will. The desire to challenge him fuels my next
move. He thinks he can control me. No one controls me. Adrenaline still
courses through my veins, making me brave, and arguably stupid, but I’ll
take the former. I am painfully aware that my judgement has not only been
clouded but buried six feet under. The reason I am here—to get my sister’s
locket back—is not even crossing my mind right now. I can feel bad about
it later and I know I will. I am entirely occupied by this man standing in
front of me, who I still can’t decide is someone I should be running to or
running from.

64. CHAPTER NINE
Lukas
Everything I already know I feel toward her is clarified the second I find
her sneaky ass snooping around in my office. I hate her. Can’t wait two
fucking minutes before taking herself on a house tour without my say so.
I’d like to think she was taught basic manners, but it seems that isn’t the
case. Of course, she had to go into my office, one of the only two rooms
that are off limits to everyone but me—the other being my bedroom. Those

65. rooms hold a lot of the secrets I keep, and I’ll be damned if Emilia fucking
Blake is the girl to find them and expose me.
I watch her closely as I pin her up against the wall, my body pressed to
all the curves of hers, the heat from her skin and the heat from mine mixing
in a very dangerous dance. I want to choke her right there, my fingers firm
around her throat, and then throw her out but it is too late. Plans have
already been set in motion and now it is too fucking late.
She thinks she has a home to go back to, to escape me. She doesn’t. I
burnt that shithole to the ground—well, technically Nate did—as soon as I
knew what I wanted to do with my little pawn. Now I am hoping it doesn’t
bite me in the ass. She is mine now, and the poor girl has no idea of the
magnitude of that fact alone.
Her pulse beats out of control, matching mine; I feel it under her
delicate pale skin underneath my fingers as they move lower skimming just
under the neckline of her shirt. I could have some serious fun with this one.
I’m hard as fuck but move back only an inch, still waiting for her to obey
me, say yes. Her eyes bleed defiance, and she wears the mask well but
when they roam down my body and pause on my dick, they darken with
blatant desire and I swear I see her cheeks blush. Cute. There is a broken
little girl under her tough girl façade and it’s going to be victorious when I
rip her to pieces for what she did. She knows—she has to. And she will pay
the price along with her sister, Alexis. Even if I have to drag her back from
hell.
There is a minor problem with my plan though, and that is to keep her
here, she is going to have to want to be here. I’m sure she has friends she
could run to, but she strikes me as the stubborn type so I doubt she would
take that option. There is also the fact that she doesn’t know the pile of
bricks she called home is now a pile of ash, hopefully along with Robert
Redman’s charred remains.
The hardest part is going to be feigning how much I despise the
woman and acting like a semi-decent person toward her, she who doesn’t
deserve an ounce of careful treatment. But I have no choice, I am not a man
who likes his control taken from him. It provokes the anger which bubbles
under the surface of my skin. Maybe the compromise will be worth the
battle won in the end. I can and will do it for him.
My hands leave her body to rearrange my dick which is impersonating
an iron rod under my jeans. My traitorous eyes take in every bump, curve

66. and dip on her body, and I can’t deny how deliciously edible she looks. Her
eyes—those fucking blue eyes with little flecks of green and turquoise—
dance with mischief and arousal as she watches my hand, still on my dick.
The way her fingers are fluttering at her side like she wants to reach out and
touch me, makes my breathing heavy and my balls ache. Touch me, I dare
you.
Maybe I don’t have to tone down the darker parts of me with this one.
Everything in my bones is pointing in the direction that she likes the
darkness.
I’m still furious, waiting for her words and desperate to pound her
through the wall with my cock, when she swallows and finally speaks.
“What’s your name?” Emilia leans in closer to me just a fraction, my
steel capped boots touching her military ones, and her eyes locking onto
mine. The pearly blue flecks darker now and I know she’s already wet
between her legs. Her question throws me off a little and it’s clear she
doesn’t know who I am. Most people know who I am and adrenaline pools
in my stomach at the idea that she isn’t one of those people. It means I can
have so much more fun with her. If she doesn’t know who I am now, I
doubt she’ll connect the dots if I give her a little truth. I’m overthinking
this, it is just a name; however it’s one thing she might be able to use, to
piece the puzzle together and I don’t want her figuring out who I am and
who I’m connected to. Licking my lips, I notice how close our mouths are,
only a breath away when I tell Emilia a truth.
“My name is Lukas, Emilia.” I notice her mouth tilt into a small smile,
and it’s gone a second later, but I caught it. I can see where this is going
when she opens her mouth again and I know the questions are coming. She
isn’t going to get any more truth from me today.
Her mouth parts, about to speak when I lift my hand to her lips,
holding her bottom lip between my finger and thumb. Her tongue darts out,
the wet tip strokes my finger and her eyes flare when she realizes what she
did. My pulse speeds up and any luck I had deflating my boner is long
gone. My body blazes and I swear if my zipper wasn’t cock blocking me,
then she’d be in trouble. Her expression is full of lust, but her eyes are
wide, timid and innocent and it takes me off guard. I’m fully aware of the
how the vulnerability in her eyes contradicts her "take-no-shit" façade, and I
can feel it slowly start to chip at my own façade, but I can’t allow that.

67. She should be fucking running right now, after what she has been
through and especially the way I am with her; most girls would have fled
without a second thought. But she is not like most girls, it seems. If only
she knew that by not running from me, she is offering herself up as a
completely oblivious but willing sacrifice.

68. Emilia’s full bottom lip is still captured between my fingers, my gaze
unable to move anywhere else. It’s like nothing else exists outside of this
moment, this little toxic bubble of ours. That isn’t good for either of us. I
need to stop before I take her upstairs and fuck her senseless.
I take a step back like a good boy and make a silent pact between my
dick and my head that under no circumstances will I sleep with her. She’s
already messing with both of my heads and I cannot afford to take that risk.
The space between us still pulsates with electricity and I’m already itching
to wrap my hands around the delicate skin on her neck. Even her scent is
affecting me. She smells like jasmine and fucking heaven, so I inhaled
deeply, sucking it up and committing it to memory before I created the
much-needed distance between us. I can breathe a little easier now that her
intoxicating fragrance isn’t invading my senses.
“Did you find what you were looking for?” I ask referring to the
locket, my voice low and a little too croaky for my liking.
I shove my hands into my pockets at the same time her back pocket
buzzes repeatedly, and I tip my head down to the floor so she can’t see my
grin because I know exactly what it is about.
“You should probably answer that… I heard there was a fire.”
Fortunately my voice sounds indifferent instead of humored which is
exactly how I feel. I honestly couldn’t care less when her eyes widen as she
looks down at her phone.
“Oh shit. That’s uh… I don’t—” Her eyebrows are drawn into a deep
frown as she speaks, flustered.
“Something wrong?” I feign innocence, fucking hysterical on the
inside.
“Um yeah, It’s my house. It’s gone.” She blinks rapidly as she takes in
her predicament, and who would I be if I didn’t sweep in and play her hero,
again.
“Spare bedroom is yours if you want it.” I say, knowing her answer
before she does. Her eyes shift erratically as she tries to figure out her next
move. I walk away from her, toward the stairs and call out over my
shoulder, “Top of the stairs on the right… Oh and, Emilia?” Her eyes snap
to mine as I glide my tongue along the top row of my teeth. “Don’t look so
scared… I won’t bite.” I grin and disappear upstairs to the gym, already
tasting victory on my tongue.

69. CHAPTER TEN
Emilia
My first thought is Shit! My house is nothing but a pile of ash and even
though the decent and human thing to do, would be to hope Robert wasn’t
in there, I don’t care if he was. A part of me hopes he was. My second
thought is that I am so screwed. I can’t possibly stay here with this
psychopath, but I also can’t impose on Melody, because that would mean I
would have to attend one of the thousand events her family hosts, and I

70. would rather shoot myself than do that. I have no money of my own and
nowhere to go.
Maybe I can stay for a few days just until I’ve sorted everything out. I
mean he did offer, and I don’t really have any other option. I groan out load,
my back still pressed against the wall he had me pinned up against just now.
I can try to make this work. Yes, he is an asshole, but how dangerous can he
really be? The guy already saved my life once and here he is again. Some
might think he has a hero complex but that definitely isn’t it. I try to
internally justify staying here, and unfortunately the pros outweigh the cons
right now. It’s short term. I’ll be gone before I know it.
Lukas. That’s his name and it suits him. Part of it rolls off the tongue
like a wave, but there is a sharpness there too, like a razor gliding over your
body until the sting of the blade slices through the layers of skin there,
leaving blood and havoc.
Lukas has disappeared somewhere, but I caught what he’d said. I
walk until I round the corner at the top of the marble stairs and turn right
down a ridiculously long corridor until I reach a door at the end and hope
I’m at the right door because I passed a few other on my journey. I reach
out and push the door handle down and the heavy dark wooden door opens
with ease, as does my jaw which is currently on the floor—marble, figures.
This isn’t even a room—it’s a freaking suite and it’s better than I could ever
have dreamt or imagined.
The foyer, staircase and hallway leading up here are decorated with
white and grey marble but merge into black and silver marble in here, and
glisten and reflect the white ceiling lights as if it is glass. There is a queen-
sized bed that looks so inviting, I almost dive bomb onto it but restrain
myself. Four thick wooden posts frame the bed and as I step further into the
room, I can see it curves around a corner to the right. There’s a walk-in
closet that’s the size of the entire first floor of my house, and it looks like it
has quite a lot of items in it already. Shoes, dresses, trousers, jeans, tops and
probably more hidden away inside of the glossy chest of drawers that lines
the back of the walk-in.
Why would he have women’s clothes here? Does he have female
guests here a lot? The thought stirs something in my stomach that is
unsettling and I bury it down deep instantly. I feel eyes on me and spin
around to find Lukas behind me, his eyes watching me intently, glued to me
with an unreadable mask on his face. Shifting my gaze, I look to the left and

71. follow the curve of the room to a bathroom and freeze. Is that a freaking
jacuzzi?
I feel like I’ve stepped into an episode of Selling Sunset. The bathroom
glistens, the black and silver flecked marble continuing up the walls, and
the shower, which is almost as big as the closet, is made of the same black
marble. Across the room is a jacuzzi, which can probably seat about sixteen
people. I turn around to make my way back to the bedroom when I hit a
solid wall of muscle. He’s so close, pressed up against me chest to chest, it’s
heady being this close to him again. It also doesn’t help that he smells
incredible, literally edible. I want to stand on my tip toes and lick his neck,
taste him and bask in the glory of whatever that masculine, sandalwood, all
man smell is.
I can feel my self-control slipping and the thought puts me on edge. I
take a step back, looking up through my lashes into those ocean eyes.
“I… I don’t think I should stay here. I really appreciate the offer, but I
really don’t need all of this.” I motion to the room spreading my arms out,
shaking my head in disbelief at this entire situation that I’m in. As much as
I hate to admit it, Lukas has this strange power over me, and the pull I feel
toward him frightens me more than anything else has. Despite my own
willpower and grit, I might not be able to tell him no. The scariest part
though, is that I don’t really want to.
Lukas tilts his head to the right as he watches me, his eyes narrowing when
he speaks, his voice low and delicious.
“Shall we skip past the part where we pretend you have anywhere else
to go. You’re staying, Emilia.” His eyes are heated, but mischief plays
behind the surface as well. “Besides, you still haven’t seen the best part.”
Lukas strides out of the bathroom, confident, and his presence is
intoxicating. So, I follow closely behind, feeling the absence a little. God.
He stops at the wall on the far side of the bedroom opposite the bed,
which is covered from top to bottom with a screen. Lukas presses a little
discreet button and the screen starts to lift. The view literally takes my
breath away. It is almost dark, but the light of dusk is still lingering along
the horizon. The most beautiful deep orange, vibrant pinks and reds stretch
across the sky as the sun is setting, waiting to mute and vanish shortly after
the sun. The moon is rising in the night sky and shines brightly, ready to
take center stage.

72. My gaze fixes on the variation of blues, purples, orange, red and pink
hues I can see, and some of the stars already twinkling bright in the sky
over the vastness of the ocean; the waves crashing and dancing to the most
beautiful song I can just about hear through the glass windows. I have never
seen a view like this before, not like this anyway.
I sigh out a laugh. “Wow.” I gulp when my eyes adjust to see Lukas’s
reflection behind me, and for the first time I see what looks like a small
genuine smile across his lips and a gentle look in his eyes, which instantly
turns hard when he meets my stare in the glass. My beath hitches once
again because if the view isn’t enough, adding him into the equation makes
this something else, more—even if he has his guard up around me, and for
whatever reason he’s decided I’m a burden. I don’t have a word for the
feeling swelling in my stomach and flooding my veins as I sense my guard
slipping, letting him see a glimpse of me without my shield up. Strangely it
feels… nice.
Turning my body to face his, I see the muscle in his jaw tick as he
keeps his gaze passed my shoulder and fixed on the horizon, before taking
three steps back and closer to the door.
“There’s clothes in the closet, toiletries in the bathroom,” he tells me
as I watch his chiselled jawline which has a light dusting of dark stubble my
fingers are itching to reach out and stroke, and I wonder how rough it would
feel under my fingertips and between my thighs.
He swings around to the door, grabbing the handle to close behind him
when I stop him.
“Lukas, why are you doing this? I mean, we don’t even know each
other.” My voice sounds small and timid which irritates me a little. My
defenses should be built up higher than a skyscraper, but every minute I
spend in his presence just knocks it down brick by brick and I have no idea
why. All I do know is that it’s infuriating.
Lukas doesn’t give me an answer—shocker—but continues on his way
out the door. I hear him mutter something under his breath that I don’t think
he meant for me to hear, but I do and something in his voice sounds
conflicted. “Because I’m an asshole and you fucking deserve it.”
Then he is gone, and I am alone. Alone to wonder what the hell he
meant by that.
Everything from today is catching up with me and I suddenly feel the
weight of exhaustion heavy on every limb and muscle in my body. Too

73. many emotions, thoughts and events crash into me and my body feels like it
has been hit by a freight train as everything bombards me all at once. I’m
not used to being out of control especially where my feelings and my body
are concerned. Sleep calls to me as I yawn on my way into the closet.
Closet my ass. I take it in for a second time and notice there is a lot of silk
in here. Is that lingerie?
I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing some of the lingerie Lukas clearly
keeps in here for his one-night stands. The latex is a look some could pull
off but definitely not my style. The thought of him in here with numerous
women acting out sexual fantasies makes me feel sick, although it
shouldn’t. It’s not like he is mine in any way, but I can’t deny the
inexplicable feelings growing and taunting me in my belly.
I shake my head clearing the little green feeling that has no place
inside of my body for this man, when I see a pretty emerald, green satin
nightdress that calls to me. It’s so beautiful with black lace trimming around
the hem with a small slit that teases up the thigh a couple of inches.
Removing my clothes from my body I slip it over my head feeling the satin
skim across my skin like water. I’ve never worn something so elegant and
feminine yet sexy as hell in my life. As I stand in front of the floor to
ceiling mirror inside the closet I take in my appearance, a little stunned. I
know I’m conventionally pretty, but I‘ve never seen myself like this before.
My long dark hair flows past my shoulders almost down to my waist, the
emerald standing out against my porcelain skin and blue eyes, making them
pop even more than usual. The satin clings to my body in all the right
places making me feel beautiful for the first time, maybe ever?
After brushing my teeth and checking my phone I dive into bed and
literally die and go to heaven. I wiggle my body from left to right as I settle
in, sinking deep into the mattress moulding to my body, in a way that makes
me want to morph into this bed and never leave.
My phone pings, and I see I have a text from Mel. The message is her
freaking out over the fire and begging me to stay with her, and a colorful
account of how her day was and the advances of a guy that had taken an
interest in her for a couple of months. She had very obviously placed him in
the friend zone, but he just wasn’t getting it. Not sure how hard it is for him
or anyone to grasp that no means no. She asks if we can meet after college
sometime this week.

74. Mel attends college in the city which is adequately named Penderal—
which isn’t confusing at all. Whereas I go to the community college in
Penderal Bay. I reply, telling her that I’m not sure, I have stuff to deal with
like find a place to live which is true. I avoid the other questions and hit
send. I think about today and how I’ve been trying to tone down the attitude
and make a little bit more of an effort with the caveman who kidnapped me.
As much as it pains me to the point of agony to admit, it’s kind of nice
having someone to fall back on, someone who sucks at showing it but cared
enough to save my life.
Before snuggling down into the duvet, I check the top drawer of the
bedside table, turning on the lamp and find headphones. Bingo.
My body gives in then, drifting off to the sound of "Believer" by
Imagine Dragons as my mind succumbs to sleep.

75. CHAPTER ELEVEN
Lukas
Last night, after a quick workout in my home gym and a cold shower, I
tried to sleep and not think about Emilia in the next room. Her thoughtful,
innocent and genuine expression reflected back at me through my window
fucked with everything in me, because even though I knew it was a façade,
her look alone contradicted every poisonous thing I knew her to be.

76. How many masks does this girl wear to deceive those around her, I
wonder. My guess is too many. I won’t be one of the idiots to be lured by
her vixen charm and made a fool in the end. I’m sure there are many of
those too, who fall for her beauty, because that is undeniable.
I chose to leave out the fact we are only a wall away when I told her
to take the guest room. Keep your enemies closer and all that shit.
Stretching and making my way to the kitchen to make a strong coffee,
I pause outside Emilia’s door, listening for any indication that she is up. I
don’t hear anything so figure she is still asleep. I leave her, relieved for the
space to clear my head.
Part of my morning routine has always been to have my coffee out on
the balcony as I rise with the sun. It stretches across the entire first floor
with access to the master and guest bedrooms. It’s my favorite spot in my
house. The one place where the noise in my head calms and there is nothing
but me, the sea and the warmth of the sun that feels like my mother’s hand
reaching down from heaven and gently caressing my face, soothing the lost
boy inside of me. It keeps me alive, passionate and motivated to rise with
the sun each day, at the same time keeping a piece of my mom alive too.
You can’t beat this view. The pinks and oranges are vivid, bold and
energetic as the sun rises every day; it is and will always be one of the most
exceptionally breath-taking views.
It’s not the only thing that steals my breath. I step out onto the balcony
and everything freezes, every drop of blood coursing through my veins
heads south. My jaw drops open, and I might as well be catching fucking
flies. I nearly spill my coffee over my legs and feet as I watch the back of
Emilia as her body moves. I am angry that she ruined my place of solace for
all of a spilt second and then my dick takes over.
Emilia’s hips sway side to side, and I am mesmerized watching her
move and want nothing more than to slide up behind her, grab those hips in
my palms and feel her petite curves roll against my body, which is now rock
hard. The way the green satin clings to her body hugging her so perfectly in
all the right places, I am suddenly jealous of a fucking fabric for getting to
feel her naked skin underneath it. Is she naked underneath it? I can feel my
pulse beating so violently as I place my coffee down and move closer to
her, fucking up my own promise to stay away from Emilia Blake. I am
going to hell anyway so I might as well solidify my place.

77. CHAPTER TWELVE
Emilia
"Pillowtalk" by Zayn plays through my headphones as my body moves,
flowing to the rhythm while watching the sun grow higher, bursting in
bright, captivating colors over the horizon. Music has always been my
escape; it gives me the freedom I crave and the pure magic of getting lost in
my senses. And in this moment, witnessing Mother Nature boast her
magnificent beauty is magic.

78. Every muscle in my body tenses, stills and tingles when I feel him in
the air. He carries this electricity that bolts straight through my veins,
shocking me when he is close, but this is different. I don’t need to move my
body to know he is close, approaching slowly like the predator he is.
My heart beats erratically, drowning out every other sound. I feel him
everywhere, over every inch of skin that tingles in apprehension of what he
is doing and what is coming. I jump a little, startled when one of the
headphones is removed from my ear and moved into his, as he slides up
close behind me. My body is catatonic as I wait to see what he will do next.
His front presses tightly to my back, still wrapped in the satin nightdress
and completely bare underneath. It doesn’t help that I can feel the heat from
his naked chest and toned stomach against my back, through the material.
The song builds at the same time I feel his fingers skim down the sides of
my body making me shiver. Involuntarily, I tip my head back against his
hard shoulder at the same time a sigh slips out. Strong, powerful hands
settle on my hips as he begins to move behind me, pulling my hips into his
pelvis, and rolling my ass back into him further with every movement. Each
move matches so that our bodies never leave the other. My body is ablaze
and all I want is to just give my body over to him—give him everything.
Squeezing my hips, he pushes my body forward softly, until my
hipbones press against the cold hard glass edge of the balcony. He follows
closely behind. The music plays as I feel him harden against my back—still
slowly moving our hips from side to side. I have never felt anything like
this before. The utter abandonment and surrender of control, replaced with
pure passion, wonder, lust and excitement all tangled into one moment, one
man.
We dirty dance with the rising sun as our witness, my heart-beat
increasing as he slides his fingers down further, caressing the sides of my
thighs.
He pauses there a moment like he is asking for permission, which does
something to my insides. I swallow and nod before his calloused palms
glide across my skin to the inside of my thighs, caressing the skin there for
a few excruciating seconds until the chorus hits and his fingertips glide over
my sensitive core. Lukas moves his fingers up and down spreading the
wetness there, making me moan. Hungry lips kiss my shoulder, moving to
the crook of my neck, sucking the delicate skin there as he slides one finger
inside of me. I suck in a deep breath, arching my back and pushing my ass

79. further into his hardness as he strokes me so expertly I feel it everywhere in
my body. My muscles already tightening under the magic he is performing
with his fingers.
I can hear my breaths turning desperate; I am panting, on the verge of
losing my freaking mind because no one has ever touched me there, made
me feel this good. Lukas’s kisses are bruising and painful when he bites
down on my neck so hard I hiss and almost feel the skin break. His mouth
punishing and ferocious, but his fingers delicate and tentative. I am a
prisoner to my own body but only he holds the key.
The angle he is inside of me shifts, moving faster as the music is
forgotten entirely. The build of my orgasm reaches its peak as his thumb
circles my clit sending me over the edge. Lukas catches me around the
waist as my body shakes with aftershocks and his fingers work me over as I
grip him tight until it becomes too much, and I beg him to stop.
After another second, he removes his fingers from me, my eyes
following his hand as it moves up from between my legs, wanting to see
what he will do next after giving me the best and only orgasm that anyone
has ever given me. I can see my juices on his hand as he lifts it to his
mouth, sucking on the finger that had just been inside of me. Lukas’s moan
sends shivers throughout my body as he tastes me and I come down from
the high, his eyes on fire, locked on mine.
Leaning down so his lips touch the shell of my ear, he opens his mouth
to speak, and I feel his breath hot on my skin.
“Thanks for breakfast, sweetheart.” Lukas smirks before kissing the
burning skin of my neck his teeth had been latched on to. Then he is gone.
I can’t deny the crazy hot chemistry between Lukas and me. It’s the
kind of chemistry where I’m not sure if he wants me or despises me. My
hormones and emotions I know nothing about, are shooting through my
body in different directions like fireworks setting off my anxiety. Part of me
feels like a fool, the other part is desperate for him to feel what I’m feeling,
even if I don’t quite know what that is.
I’ve only ever had my own hands on my body like that, and my God, it
is so much better when it is someone else. But something deep inside me
tells me it wouldn’t be like that with just anyone else, only him. Or maybe I
am just losing my sanity—that being much more likely.

80. Unlatching my hands that are still clutched tightly around the railing
on the balcony, I dash to the shower, in need of a cold one. The water
cleanses me of my dirty thoughts—well most of them that is. I won’t lie and
pretend that I don’t fantasize about him coming in here with me and
pressing his hot and hard body against mine. The water pressure is so
perfect I can easily have a second orgasm from that alone.
Closing my eyes as the water cascades over my skin, the coolness
bringing with it clarity, almost as if this morning had been a dream and I am
only just breaking through the haze and back into reality.
What am I actually doing here? I seriously need to figure my shit out
before this goes any further. I can already taste how toxic we are, so why
does every part of me want to stay and find out how deadly we could be? I
know he’s possessive, maybe even dangerous, but danger feels like home.
I think my mind wants to justify this fucked up fairy-tale because
deep, deep down I know this won't end well for my heart. I don’t catch
feelings, and I’m going to try my damnedest to keep it that way.
Anyone from the outside will take one look at this and think
Stockholm syndrome much? But it isn’t like he is forcing me to stay here.
Really, I’m doing this to myself, which means that I am in control. That
thought satiates the control freak inside of me, even if I know that it isn’t
entirely true.
I’m not that girl—the girl who bends at the will of any man, no matter
if he literally embodies what I imagine a fallen angel to look like. All dark
hair, fair skin, piercing eyes and a body to die for.
Even though the fog in my head is starting to clear and logical Emilia
is slowly creeping back into my conscience, I still have this niggling feeling
inside of me, radiating from my gut that this is something stronger,
something that is fated.
After my shower, I dry myself off and dress into a pair of black
skinny jeans and a baby blue long sleeve top I found in the walk-in closet
that cuddles my little curves nicely. I leave my hair wet after brushing it,
my face makeup free.
Making my way to the door, I stop short when I see a fancy silver tray
with a plate of pancakes, bacon and maple syrup, strawberries and
blueberries in a bowl with mango juice in a crystal tumbler. The breakfast
of dreams doesn’t last five minutes when my stomach growls violently at

81. me, reminding me how hungry I am. I don’t know who brought it to me, but
I get the feeling it was not Lukas. Maybe there is a phantom maid because I
have not seen or heard another soul in this place the entire time I’ve been
here. It is eerily quiet, and such a massive place for one man (and a
potential phantom maid).
I hear a sound downstairs and it sounds like a coffee machine. My feet
move without realizing just how quickly, almost making me fall ass over
face down the stairs. I catch the banister in time before I make an
embarrassing, grand entrance. My heart pounds from the adrenaline of
almost tumbling down the stairs as I step closer to the sound and into the
kitchen. Broad shoulders and muscles that twitch under his skin with each
movement, stretch tightly over his back capturing my attention. Drifting
lower my eyes shift to the white towel that hangs low on his hips and I start
wondering what he looks like underneath it. Fucking hormones.
“Are you going to come in here or just keep staring at my ass?” Lukas
catches me with his back still facing me, still making his coffee. How did
he...? Maybe I’m not as stealthy as I thought I was.
I figure this is as good a time as any to speak, but words fail me
because my mouth dries up, all the moisture going somewhere south. Screw
this man and his ability to look fucking edible this early in the morning. I
need words.
“Thirsty?” Lukas says, his voice dripping with innuendo and veiled
humor. I feel the heat spread across my face as I fucking blush. Blush. He
turns, coffee in hand, all rock-hard pecs and abs which match his expression
accurately while he watches me. Distaste strong in his eyes again.
“I’m fine, thank you,” I lie. I am dying for caffeine but don’t want to
want anything from him, which is stupid I know. “I’ll grab something on
my way out,” I tell him, about to turn and leave.
“Way out where?” Lukas frowns.
“I go to Penderal Bay Community College, so… I gotta go.” I fiddle
with the hem of my top, feeling uncomfortable with the small talk, like it is
unnatural for us.
“You know, you don’t have to be embarrassed about what happened.”
He bites his lip and takes a step closer to me. Oh that, he had to bring it up,
as if it hasn’t been playing through my mind all morning. No doubt I’d be
dreaming about it tonight. Another step closer. Another. Until he closes in
on me, cocky signature smirk in place.

82. “I’m not embarrassed. I just didn’t expect you to be there, I just…”
What am I supposed to say to him, that he was the first man to ever give me
an orgasm? I think about the next words I’m about to speak when I notice
close his body is, not an inch from mine. This is also not the time to notice
the bulge poking my belly through his towel and my shirt. Only two thin
barriers between him and I.
I open my mouth to speak again, not that I have to explain myself, but
his fingers capture my lip, like before, and he slides his thumb over the skin
almost dipping it into my mouth. He speaks again, his voice husky. “Did
you like it? My mouth on your body, my fingers inside your tight pussy?”
His grin drops, his expression dark, his tone accusing.
“You’ll have to savor that memory, kiska, because it won’t happen
again. You like to use your body as a weapon, yeah? You know just how to
make a man want you. I’m sure you’ve had plenty of practice, right?”
I am at a loss for words. Does he think I lured him to me on purpose?
Asshole. I didn’t even know he was there!
“You know exactly how to move that body and roll those hips just
right, don’t you?” Lukas continues, his voice granite and cold, releasing my
lips and clenching his fists at his sides. Shivers run through my body. “I
watched you, the way you moved, the sway of your hips. You got me. I’ll
give you that. But I’m warning you now, you try to pull any more of that
shit on me, you’ll regret it. It won’t just be my fingers inside of you, you’ll
take all of me and you’ll be fucking begging for it.” Lukas storms out,
leaving his untouched coffee behind and me standing, rooted on the spot,
speechless.

83. CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Lukas
She got to me. Deep down I knew it was a shitty move to blame her for my
actions. But it’s the only way I can justify them right now, and the shame I
feel spiralling from head to toe. I know she didn’t have the slightest clue I
was there, or maybe she did, definitely not at first though.

84. My mother would be disgusted with a lot of the fucked-up things I’ve
done in my life, although she was well acquainted with them—she was
married to my father, who was an even bigger piece of shit than I am.
The way I treated Emilia though, I know mom would be disappointed
in me—in the man I’ve become, and maybe she can forgive me because of
who Emilia is and what she knows. I have a lot of respect for women, and I
would never treat a woman like this under normal circumstances, but these
aren’t normal circumstances.
I admit, I enjoy this little game I’m playing with her and I can’t deny
all the things her body does to me, but that’s all she is. A body. A body to
toy with and fuck until I conclude my vendetta against the Blake sisters. It
feels good to have the enemy so close, to have my hands around her throat,
the temptation to squeeze powerful. Everything inside me tells me Alexis is
alive, and I will find her. Emilia knows something about that night, I’m sure
of it. They’re fucking sisters. There’s no way Emilia is in the dark about
what Alexis did. My fists tighten at the thought of my brother. There was a
car wreck, his blood at the scene—a lot of it, but no body. He’d been with
Alexis Blake, his fuck buddy. She’d been my fuck buddy and every other
man’s fuck buddy in Penderal Bay, but she was nothing. Just a pair of tits to
come over.
I shake my head clear of mental images of that night and start pacing
the floor in my office, door locked. When it comes down to it, I have two
choices: I can carry on the way I am, letting the hate I feel take over, or I
can be tactical.
I need to be smart about this, and unfortunately that means I have to
bury every instinct in getting justice for my brother. I need her to trust me.
She trusts no one, that much is clear. I don’t have much time with her, and I
know as soon as she can find another place to stay, she’ll be gone and out of
reach. I need her to stay, ideally willingly so she feels like she can open up
to me—not just her legs, but her mouth because I need her to talk. I need to
know what she knows.
I unlock the drawer on the bottom right side of my desk, and pull out
the files I have already managed to get my hands on, and it wasn’t hard.
Money talks and there are a lot of corrupt motherfuckers around who might
just sell their souls to the devil for not a whole fucking lot. I haven’t told
her my last name, not that she should know who I am, but I won’t lie and
say I wasn’t surprised she had no idea who I am from my face alone. I’m

85. pretty well-known, well, everywhere, but I like that she doesn’t have any
preconceived ideas about who I am, only what I’ve given her.
I flip through the records I have from when Alexis went missing,
scanning down the pages, collecting information like I have a hundred
times over. Dates, calls, locations where she went, who she went with. I
need to dig deeper because I know something is fucked up. There’s
something wrong about this whole thing. I need to find more, more missing
pieces to the puzzle that is Alexis Blake and her disappearance.
Alexis Blake, Emilia Blake’s older sister and the girl who killed my
brother. Destroyed what was left of my heart. Emilia Blake, an accessory.
The reason I hate them with a scorching fire that burns so deep, nothing will
dull the flames until I do everything I can to bring them down, for him, for
my brother.
Emilia fell into my hands, and I don’t believe in coincidence, not one
bit. Everything happens for a reason whether we accept it or not. This is my
chance to make them pay for what they did; karma is coming—in the form
of me.
I can’t put my finger on what it is about Emilia that pulls me to her
like a magnet and I don’t want to think about it either. Maybe it’s her
attitude—she’s feisty and answers back, and it turns me the fuck on. Feeds
the beast inside of me. She’s strong on the surface but there is so much
more underneath, so much vulnerability. I’ve seen it, seen what I can do to
her too and it’s fucking addictive. She is soft and delicate in my arms and it
calls to a part of me that’s been buried deep down for a long time.
She doesn’t seem at all like her sister. No friends that I know of, her
family is non-existent unless you count the piece of shit she used to live
with, which I don’t. But when I think back to how close my brother and I
used to be, I don’t doubt she has—had that with her sister. Girls talk, sisters
share their secrets. She knows, I know she does.
I throw the papers back in the drawer and lock it, not having found
anything else that I didn’t know already. Leaning back in my chair, linking
my fingers behind my head as I stare at the ceiling, I take a deep breath,
blowing it out, frustrated.
The police are in my pocket, so it was easy to get all the files on Alexis
and what happened the night she vanished. It makes no sense though, the

86. girl disappeared only a few days after Elijah’s car crash, and as I said, I
don’t believe in coincidences. Too suspicious.
After making some phone calls to the detectives and officers I’ve been
in contact with for the past two years for any updates, I’m not surprised
when they give me nothing. Fucking useless assholes. It’s like she
disappeared off the face of the planet, the case closed, and everyone has
forgotten all about her. Except her sister of course. And me, even if nobody
knows the real reason for it.
I’m almost certain Alexis is still out there alive, and if she is, I will
find her. I will search for her to the ends of the earth because she knows
what happened to Elijah. She’s responsible, I feel it. And there lies my
biggest motive.
I won’t find her because I care about her, I couldn’t give a single shit
about her. This is wholly about Elijah and taking the Blake sisters down,
until they sing like canaries.
Emilia left for her class about forty-five minutes ago with one of my
drivers I sent to take her there and back and keep an eye on her. I may be
wrong, but I feel like she’s getting comfortable here, she certainly seemed
pretty damn comfortable on my balcony, swaying those sinful hips and
letting me put my hands on her. Good. Comfort makes people drop their
guard, and that’s exactly what I need from her.
I stretch out my legs, feeling the soft cotton rubbing against me, still in
my towel. I lock the office up behind me calling out for Anita my
housekeeper, though that title is an understatement. The woman is a saint.
She’s stern at first if you don’t know her, but she has been with me since I
was a kid. She was my family’s maid before my mom died, then she came
to work for me. My mom loved Anita, and she treated me like her son a lot
of the time. I needed that when I was younger, and the maternal treatment
never stopped. She would’ve made a great mom but never had any children
of her own. No one could ever fill the void in my heart after my mother
passed but Anita dulled the ache with her support, love and loyalty.
Emilia doesn’t know I have a housekeeper, but she’s probably guessed
it. The girl is a lot of things, but she isn’t stupid. It’s definitely not me who
keeps the place in pristine condition; I have too much shit to do with The
Empire and the properties I own. I like that Emilia is in the dark about her,
she thinks it’s just her and I here in this fuck off mansion, and most of the

87. time that’s true. Anita is only visible when Emilia isn’t. She thinks we’re
alone, and I don’t know why I like it.
After getting dressed, I make my way down the hallway only to stop
outside of Emilia’s room—the guest room. I push open the door and take a
few steps into the room that smells like her, like mangos and exotic fruit
scented body wash. She must have used it in the shower. And now my mind
is loaded with images of Emilia’s wet, naked body covered with suds of
soap dripping down her perfect body, close to places I wouldn’t mind
dipping into. Places where my fingers have already been. A smirk tugs at
the side of my mouth as I am rewarded with the memories of how her body
responded so beautifully and eagerly to my touch.
I notice the tray Anita had brought up to her room is empty—at least
she isn’t starving. Why do you care? You don’t care.
I’d asked Anita to bring her something sweet and salty. It seemed to fit
her mood. This girl, she ran hot and cold. One minute she is sassy and
unrelenting in her stubbornness, the next she is melting into my touch
making it near impossible to resist her.
I’d watched them at the beach once, Emilia and her sister. They were
talking, running, laughing—well Emilia was, Alexis was more interested in
her phone and kept stealing glances up at the mansion on the clifftop, my
home. My chest tightens at the memory—Emilia looked at her as if she was
the most important person in the world, Alexis looked at her younger sister
as if she was a nuisance. I couldn’t help but feel for her, I wanted to wrap
her up and take her with me. That was before.
Alexis relieved the tension in my balls and that was about it. She didn’t
interest me in the slightest, apart from the fact she was nice to look at with a
hot body. The thought that I had been with her and then everything with
Elijah happened, made bile rise up my throat.
I blink away the memories, taking in the bed. The duvet still slightly
creased and ruffled in places, like she had attempted to make the bed. It is
nowhere near the standard I am used to. Anita has yet to clean the room
because if this is her standard, I wouldn’t be paying her the very generous
amount I do for this shit.
Emilia came with the clothes on her back, and her phone, that was it.
No laptop, tablet—nothing, which means I can’t hack anything to see what
secrets she hides.

88. Taking long strides toward the closet I rake my eyes over the garments
color coordinated on the hangers—Anita’s doing. She took my credit card
one day and purchased a ridiculous amount of women’s clothing, said she
thought it might inspire me to meet someone. Not sure where the logic was
in that.
Most of the pieces are casual, a little grungy, which strikes me as
Emilia’s style. The girl definitely likes casual over dressy, and my God is it
refreshing compared to the flock of women I’m used to, who wouldn’t be
caught dead in a pair of jeans and Converse. Even her outfit today made my
mouth dry and my blood rush south when I saw her.
Her face flashes through my head as I picture her expression this
morning in the kitchen, her mouth dropped open, speechless, small lines
between her brows as she frowned, and her eyes, hurt. My words had hurt
her in some way and part of me relished in the idea. The other part felt an
uncomfortable tightening in my stomach, closely resembling guilt.
She is just a body. She is the enemy. She’s not the soft, delicate woman
I found barely breathing. Despite my hate, she is strong. That look though. I
implied she was promiscuous, but the pain in her eyes told a different story.
One I need to ignore.
I look out the glass windows, which boast a panoramic view of
Penderal Bay. I was the only person to have this view; nobody else lives
here, and there aren’t any other houses built up on the clifftop like mine
because I won’t allow it. Complete solitude apart from the people who
congregate on the beach, who resemble grains of rice when watching from
way up here. They will speculate and ponder who lives here and they will
continue to do so, because this is the only place where I can truly be myself.
Sliding the glass door open I step out onto the balcony. The end of
spring is coming but it’s still pretty cold out—my muscles tighten in
confirmation. I grip the ledge, just where her hands had been when she
came apart. She likes music, good taste too. Likes to dance, and she is damn
good at it.
I make a mental note to make sure I see her doing that again some
time…for me.
She has petite curves, but her hips are so perfectly proportioned to the
rest of her, and I don’t think she has any idea how beautiful and sexy she is.
I bet she has guys falling all over themselves for her.

89. The idea sending a burning sensation through my body, settling in my
gut. I’m a man on fire, burning with rivaling emotions and it’s too much of
a mind fuck.
Gripping onto the railing, I’m finding it hard to control my anger as I
think about Emilia, and all the guys I imagine she’s had at her mercy—my
guess is that there have been plenty. There is no way she has gone through
her twenty years without a bunch of assholes chasing her. She is gorgeous,
captivating, and sexy as sin. The way her hair cascades down her back
reaching her waist is the hottest thing ever, and I want to wind the strands
around my fist and pull. Hard.
A door slamming shut echoes and snaps me out of my head. I flip my
Rolex around on my wrist checking the time; Emilia will be home soon,
and I still have so much shit to do. Taking fast strides, I cross the balcony
over to my side where my bedroom joins and overlooks the same view.
Five minutes later, my driver Sergio is waiting, and we make our way
into the city.
Penderal Bay is about a twenty-minute drive from Penderal city, where
my offices are located. I own a lot of real estate, large corporations and
other smaller businesses. I’m also a very well-known bachelor, which is
why I was a little surprised Emilia didn’t recognize me. I’m not
disappointed by that, quite the opposite actually.
The usual harem of women who chase me are a lot like Alexis—fame
obsessed, attention seeking, shallow, vapid puddles with about as much
depth too. I get a lot of female attention and I’m well aware why. I look
good and I’m rich as fuck.
Contrary to popular belief, I’m not a man whore. Yes, I like to fuck
and I’m damn good at it, but I’m extremely particular in who I choose to
fuck. I have to be, because of the potential risks that being with any random
woman bring—especially being who I am in society. My reputation means
something to me. I will not be disrespected by anyone. People can talk
mundane and unimpressive shit if they choose to, but the second I’m made
out to be something I’m not in a way that matters, I will fucking destroy the
source, and anyone involved will regret it.

90. CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Lukas
My car pulls up to my building and I nod to Sergio in the mirror gesturing
my thanks as I exit the Rolls Royce. Nobody makes eye contact with me as
I make my way toward the elevator to the executive suite on the top floor.
They never do. I’m not exactly what you call approachable, and that’s just
how I want it.

91. Today, especially, I’m in a shitty mood because I’m horny as fuck and
am living with a woman I hate, who drips with sexual energy and she
doesn’t even know it. Making eye contact with me right now will not bode
well for anyone.
The elevator door opens out to my suite, black marble stretches
through the entire floor. It’s something I like to feature in a lot of my
buildings, similar to what it’s like back at home. There is something about
when the light hits the darkness reflecting from the fixtures above; the light
and dark fight in a metaphorical dance together.
My assistant is at my side the instant my foot hits the marble, coffee in
hand just as she has done every morning of the two years that she has been
working for me.
“Good morning, Mr. Elin, I have left all of your messages on your
desk. You have a meeting with Chief Inspector Monroe later today at eleven
thirty sharp.” Andrea checks her watch discreetly as I take my coffee from
her hand. I notice the subtle check though, I notice everything. Admittedly,
I am running late this morning which never usually happens, but when you
are unofficially holding your addictive enemy hostage in your home, some
things take priority.
Technically, she isn’t a hostage, and I didn’t kidnap her. She could
leave. It’s not like I am some creep who has locked her in the cellar, bound
with no amenities. Though that sounds like a lot more fun.
“I need you to push the meeting forward to ten forty-five. I have
somewhere I need to be at the original scheduled time.” My voice cold and
abrupt. Like I said, I am in a shitty mood.
“But, Mr. Elin, it’s already ten fifteen—" I cut Andrea off with a look
that makes her shrink back a little, not in fear… I think, but more weariness.
I am not usually this pissed off and stern toward her. Nope, that’s a lie. I am.
“Then he still has thirty minutes to make it, and if he has a problem
then maybe he would like to find a new investor for the funding he wants.”
Andrea inhales sharply under her breath and scurries off to rearrange my
meeting, her kitten heels clicking on the floor as she moves. The sound is
pissing me off and I really need to cool off before I hire a new assistant, and
I know I don’t want to do that. Andrea is good at her job, minus the heels
and the ability not to read my mind or mood.
I finish up my meeting with Chief Inspector Monroe, who seemed
irritated to have had to rush across the city—can’t imagine why, and head to

92. my car, Sergio patiently waiting in the driver’s seat. I make sure all my
drivers do not open my doors for me. I open my own doors physically and
metaphorically speaking.
I swore I would never demand such a degrading act that makes
people of authority’s egos and dicks grow even more, which nobody needs.
It’s something my father did, and I witnessed him do a lot of shit. Viktor—
my father, degraded and belittled women, men, anyone really, and maybe
you can argue it was a product of his own upbringing, but I call bullshit.
There is no excuse because I am living proof that you don’t have to repeat
the shit you knew growing up. You are your own leader. You decide your
actions and your reactions and there is nothing more to it. I’m not by any
means a good man, but I would never lay a hand on a woman in rage.
My control never slips, but I can’t help but think a certain blue-eyed
siren is challenging me and my self-control more than I care to admit.
Inspector Monroe has been in charge of leading the investigation into
the disappearance of Alexis, so I keep tabs on him because, call it intuition
or whatever the fuck you want, I don’t trust the guy as far as I can throw
him, which ironically would be pretty far. Something doesn’t add up and
my gut has never let me down this far.
On the drive back to the house, I shoot a text to Nate who is pretty
much my brother. I trust him with my life. We’ve seen shit no one could
even dream up since we were fucking kids. That’s the joy of being bred by
the most powerful families in the world—you grow up way too fast. From
the outside your life looks like a fucking fairy-tale, but behind closed doors,
every second you’re living your darkest nightmares.
I message him to let him know I’m good to meet later for drinks and
poker. We meet every Thursday without fail. He doesn’t know anything
about the situation with Emilia yet. We might be brothers, but we don’t
fucking gossip like a pair of eighty-something grandmas.
When I’m done, I check in with Jensen, my driver who escorted
Emilia to the college. Penderal Community College where she studies
criminal Law which I find intriguing, but not surprising given her
background.
She hasn’t tried to run away, he reported, just took her classes and
met up with a young woman named Melody. They are back at the house
now and I am en-route because it’s time to talk. I need answers and I’ve lost
patience; I need to find out what she knows, now.

93. The car pulls up and I get out making my way to change out of my
navy tailored suit. Emilia is walking up the staircase toward her bedroom,
her ass looks fucking edible. I want to reach out, grab her hips and squeeze
it. And I almost do, almost.
She turns around looking down at me only four steps above me, and I’m
still almost eye level with her.
“We have a few things to discuss. I’ll give you five minutes to change,
meet me in my office.” I tell her, avoiding those hypnotic eyes.
“Why do I need to change? I’m fine in this…” She gestures to her top
as she speaks.
“And for someone so privileged and impeccably dressed, you sure do
lack in the manners department. Mommy and daddy not teach you any?”
She starts down the stairs until she is only one step above looking up at me,
challenging.
It takes everything in me not to bend her over the railing and teach her
some manners of my own. I grind my teeth together, breathing through my
nose, her breasts almost touching my abdomen. I clear my throat, and it
comes out like a growl. She inches back a little, her eyes widening as if she
realizes she hit the wrong button. Don’t react. You need her to trust you.
Her eyes are wide and open, an apology in their depths. I shrug it off,
her proximity throwing me off. She doesn’t seem to be weighed down as
much as usual; her irises aren’t clouded with apprehension or doubt. It takes
me off guard a little and I swear her eyes are even a little different in color,
they seem icier and more transparent.
“Suit yourself, sweetheart.” She is so close, it is too tempting. I grip
her hips lifting her up, spinning her around and slowly setting her down on
the ground level. I notice her sharp inhale when I touch her body, and I’d be
lying if I said it doesn’t do something to my insides. The way she reacts to
my hands on her body as if they are the first. Impossible.
Emilia’s eyes are focused on mine, wide but there is a flicker of
something underneath, lust. Letting go of her body is something mine
doesn’t like one fucking bit, but I do it anyway lifting my arm gesturing her
toward the door that guards my office. She walks ahead moving closer to
the door and further away from me. I close the door behind us.
“Take a seat. Please.” I smirk as I draw out the word ‘please’ longer
than necessary, emphasizing her distaste for my apparent lack of manners. I
think I catch a small twitch from the corner of her mouth. Interesting.

94. I haven’t actually seen her smile yet, not that I had or would give her
much to smile about. It is something I want, but also something I would do
everything to avoid. The girl is witchcraft personified. Hauntingly beautiful
—literally—she haunted my dreams last night, before it cut to the wounded
face of my mother and I woke up after that. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you.
Why is my hate for her not enough anymore? I can’t stop this pull I
have whenever she’s close. Why do I want to breathe her in like air, what’s
changed? I’m so fucking sorry, brother.
If only she knew how much I really know about her, the secrets I hold
and keep locked up tight, then she wouldn’t be here. She would run and a
part of me almost tells her to. But instead, we stay. Her in the chair opposite
me waiting for me to speak so willingly.

95. CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Emilia
I sit across from him at his desk, waiting for him to speak. I’m not usually
this patient and willing but my guard is slipping around him.
The way he grabbed my hips and pulled me closer to his body was
intense. I didn’t expect it, but it did all these fucked up things to my body,
delicious things that I crave more of. I mean, I’ve never experienced these
kinds of feelings before. I’ve had crushes in the past obviously, I am only

96. human, but this is all new, weird and tempting, and exciting and dangerous
on so many levels. It’s like my core body temperature soars and I turn
molten when he’s near me. He makes me hot and cold simultaneously, if
that’s even possible.
I am relieved he wanted to talk, because I have something I want to
bring up too, something that will make this whole situation a lot better for
us both. Let’s face it, he doesn’t want some random woman living off of
him and in his house—I use the term ‘house’ lightly. Honestly, it makes me
feel like a charity case, as much as he and this place are starting to grow on
me.
I clear my throat starting before he does.
“I’m actually glad you wanted to talk.” He makes eye contact giving
me his full attention.
“I think we can both agree that there is something weird going on here
—” I hold up my hand halting him before he can interrupt me. “I’m grateful
for your help, but I don’t want to be a problem for you any more than you
want me to be.” I take a quick breath. “My best friend Melody said I can
stay with her for a while, and I think it’s a good idea.” I stop, realizing I am
staring at the floor avoiding his glare. I look back up at him, wanting to
gage his thoughts and hoping he will agree, so whatever the hell this is can
end.
I ignore the gnawing feeling that’s growing in my stomach—not
wanting this to end.
“And what happens if your stepfather is alive and finds you, attacks
you again? Will you be able to protect yourself? Is Melody secretly a hench
warrior who knows how to break every bone in the body?” Lukas remarks
sarcastically, his voice a little angry and a lot irritated. I fight a smirk, I
mean I appreciate the sarcasm about Mel, but to be honest I wouldn’t be
surprised if she did know that.
She’s a dancer but also trained in self-defense. So yeah, she probably
could hold her own, but she shouldn’t have to hold mine. I mean I can fight
a little and own a pocket-knife. If I need to defend myself, I will have no
problem doing so—unless I am caught totally off-guard like I was when
Robert attacked me.
He takes my silence for not having an answer, and he is right because
I have nothing to say to that. So, I tell him a lie. “Lukas, I don’t want to be

97. here.” My voice sounding stronger than I feel. Maybe Robert is alive and
will come for me, or maybe he burned in the fire like I hope.
“Emilia, the reality is that your stepfather is likely to find you at some
point if he is still alive. And if he does, would you rather your friend deal
with him, or me?” He takes a deep breath and continues, “And as for you
not wanting to be here, don’t forget no body was stopping you from leaving
when you were coming on my fingers and grinding on my dick.”
Why did he have to go and throw my weakness for him in my face,
like he needs some sick ego boost or whatever. He made me feel like shit
when he implied I was promiscuous earlier in the kitchen, because that
couldn’t be further from the truth. I snap. I stand up from my chair, moving
so fast it shoots out hitting the floor with a loud crack.
“Ok! Fine, Lukas. Is that what you want me to tell you?! That I
fucking loved having you touch my body? That I loved every second of
your fingers inside of me, hitting the sweetest spot making me come so hard
I couldn’t stand? Yes! I did, and I would do it all over again too. Except it
wouldn’t end there.” I stop, my breathing rapid and my chest moving fast
with every breath, shocked at my own confession of wanting more. I can’t
want more from him. I can’t want anything from him.
His eyes are black, like the ocean at night, stormy, dark, needy and
filled with want. I swallow hard because the way he is looking at me is like
looking at a predator about to devour his prey.
Finally, after I catch my breath a little, he speaks. His voice is rough,
pure gravel with a sharp edge. “Tell me. I want you to tell me where it
would end for you.” He rises, standing up in all his tall and muscular glory,
moving around the desk closer to me, not once breaking eye contact. The
air is growing thicker and heated. My breathing getting laboured again as
the proximity between us shrinks.
He isn’t as much as a foot away from me, waiting for me to speak.
His fists clench tightly at his sides as his dark eyes dart violently between
mine.
My confidence waning as the seconds tick by, my shock taking over
the frustration that caused my word vomit. A knowing look flickers across
his deep irises and I know I am in too deep.
“Don’t back down now, baby, you want more, right? Tell me what you
want, Kiska, and I might give it to you.” His fingers caress up my left arm,
his other hand still in a fist. My gaze shifts down to his desire straining

98. against his tailored trousers. I have noticed how drop dead sexy he is in a
suit. All that muscle and perilous masculinity wrapped up in a fitted tailored
masterpiece that probably costs more than I can imagine.
The heat and attraction between us is too much. It’s invading my head,
my heart and my body, feasting on me. I can easily put the lubricant
industry out of business right now with how wet I am.
I am still flustered, lost in the abyss of emotions pummelling through
me when he speaks again.
“Okay, I’ll start. Tell you what I want.” Moving closer, his other hand
grazes my hip as he practically groans out his words, heavy with lust and
desire. “I want to feel your bare skin underneath my hands as I squeeze
those luscious hips and ass until they bruise. I want to bend you over this
desk, rip your thong off that pussy and taste you. I want to suck on your clit
until you’re screaming for me to stop. But I won’t stop.”
Lukas cages me in against his desk, his hands on either side of me
boxing me in. All I see is him. All I feel is him—all-consuming, and I want
it. I want everything he’s saying. Fuck.
His calloused thumb glides along my cheekbone, down to my
jawline, trailing down my throat and I am powerless—a mass of boneless
gloop. Still moving lower, down to the outside of my breast, his fingers
slide down slowly, like he is savoring every touch.
His voice is raspy when he talks. “Emilia, I want to make a deal with
you.” His eyes are black, looking supernatural and desperate, heated with
desire as he continues, “I’m going to do something for you. Actually, two
things for you, but you have to do something in return for me. All I need for
you to do is trust me and say yes when I ask. Understand?” His thumb
glides over my nipple over my bra and top, causing it to tighten and pebble
at his touch. I don’t trust him, but the onslaught of sensations is too much
for me to think straight right now. I almost groan but instead I stare into his
eyes and nod my head.
“I need words, Emilia, say yes.”
“Yes.” The ‘s’ barely leaves my mouth before his is on mine,
devouring me. The kiss is carnal and not pretty—it’s pure need—tongues
dancing furiously, teeth hitting together, but it’s perfect in its torture. I feel
his hands move to my jeans popping the button open, yanking them down.
He pauses briefly, making eye contact, asking silent permission and the

99. desperate moan that leaves me is confirmation enough. I won’t fight him on
it, I want it. I crave it.
Lukas growls when he sees the deep blue lace thong I’m wearing—
which is doing nothing to hide the ocean between my legs. Dark and dilated
eyes move up my body taking their time on their journey, lingering on my
breasts, then up to my lips then eyes, where they stay. A raw possession and
passion has taken over.
Lukas watches me closely, then—a tear—I gasp, feeling the cool air
hit my pussy and the sting of where my thong scraped across my hip. He
ripped my thong off my body. Holy Fuck! Expert fingers skate across my
hip moving towards my core and I won’t be surprised if there’s a puddle on
the floor from how soaked I am.
His finger glides between my lips before one sinks into my pussy.
“Mmm,” I can’t help but moan when he strokes his finger inside of
me, then takes it out licking his index finger with the tip of his tongue,
groaning before bringing it to my mouth and moving it across my lips.
“Taste, baby, you taste so fucking good. My new favorite flavor.” I lick
the tip of his finger and it’s not as bad as I thought it might be. Quite sweet,
and more than anything it only adds to the desire torching every cell in my
body right now. And just like that, I know what I want, and I have the tits to
say it.
“I want what you said before… I want your mouth on me, I want
everything you said.”
“Come on, Kiska, I need your words. Tell me exactly what you want
me to do to you.”
I can’t breathe I am so hot for him. Fuck it. “I want you to bend me
over your desk. I want you to taste my pussy and suck on my clit until I’m
screaming for you to stop. And then I don’t want you to stop.”
A deep rumble erupts from his chest and his head now drops to the
crook of my neck.
“What are you doing to me,” he mumbles into my neck and I don’t
think I was meant to hear it. I can feel his heavy breaths on my skin, deep
and rapid, his chest hitting mine with each inhale. As the seconds go by, I
can feel the energy change in the air between us.
The cloud of lust that had fogged our minds is starting to clear and I
can’t help but feel my throat tighten and a small sting of rejection needle its
way into my chest.

100. I pull up my jeans fastening the button, noting my thong isn’t on the
floor or anywhere in sight. But who the fuck cares anyway, it’s not like I
was going to be wearing it, he shredded it. I bring a hand to Lukas’s chest,
pushing him back gently causing him to take a couple steps back. His eyes
are masked again—they look like black ice. Dark with something that
resembles torment behind them, which was gone in the next second.
My eyes are glued to the floor at his expensive leather shoes when I
clear my throat and speak, “As I was saying, I think it’s best if I stay with
Melody. I think it would be better for both of us to stay away from each
other.” I raise my shield of steel back up, unwilling to give him power over
me again.
Lukas shoves his hands into his pockets and looks at me with an
expression I can’t decipher. He looks unaffected, but what else am I
expecting, a big grin?
I haven’t seen Lukas smile once, which irritates me some. It makes me
curious about him, his life, what he does and who he is. What makes him so
cold? But it is pointless for me to wonder about him. He’s a closed book.
And truth be told I’m not sure if I want to open it. He is already unravelling
my tightly bound heart I’ve protected for so long—secured with barbed
wire—and it feels like every time we are close, a dark chapter of my life is
coming to an end.
Lukas sits in his chair looking up and scrubbing his stubble with his
hands.
“I’ll look into it, do the necessary checks. Melody, is it?” He pulls out
his phone, looking down at the screen typing with swift fingers. Fingers that
were inside of my body only moments ago.
What happened between then and now to make him shut down? It’s
obvious he wanted it just as much as I did but then he stopped; he asked me
to tell him what I wanted. I did, and he rejected me. Asshole.
“Who the fuck do you think you are?” I snap, feeling a little used and a
lot pissed off. “Melody does not need a fucking background check! We
have been friends since we were seven years old. I trust her a hell of a lot
more than I trust you!” I shout, my temper getting worse the more I speak. I
turn, stalking out of the room when a hard tug on my arm pulls me back.
“What are you doing?! Let go of me!”
“Sit the fuck down, Emilia.” Lukas waits for me to sit. I don’t.

101. “Fine. Stand.” He puffs out a frustrated breath, a deep frown etched on
his face. His eyes shift all over, like he’s thinking.
“I’ll help you find her,” he says bluntly. I stand there in silence,
confused, and it must be clear on my features. “Your sister. I have the
money to do so and—” I cut him off, a little in awe.
“Wait why do you want to help me? How do you even know about
her?” I guess it was a pretty big headline for a small town when it first
happened, before everybody just suddenly stopped searching—everyone
but me. “You don’t think she is dead, like everybody else?” It hurts my
heart to say those words out loud, but I have to know if he is as heartless as
the rest of the people in this town.
Lukas looks down and I can see his brows pull tight together as he
frowns. “It’s a small town, people talk. It was big news at the time. I put
two and two together. And as for me wanting to help you… Please, Emilia,
I think we’ve established I’m not totally satanic.” Lukas loosens his tie
from around his neck distracting me momentarily, only for a second. It
appears his admission that he isn’t the Devil pained him in some way, his
eyes look tortured.
“Okay, but what’s in it for you? What’s the catch?” I eye him
suspiciously, waiting for the ball to drop.
Lukas smirks, rolling his sleeves up, the ropes in his forearms tensing
with the movement.
“Smart girl. The catch is, if you want me to help you find Alexis, you
must stay here under my protection.” He leans back in his chair extending
his legs out. “And maybe there isn’t anything in it for me, just the
knowledge that you’ll be safe with me.” I scoff because yeah, right. The
dark gleam in his eyes says otherwise.
“Okay. I’ll bite. And how exactly do you intend on re-opening a case
from almost two years ago?” I ask, genuinely curious. “I’ve been harassing
the police for the past eighteen months after they just gave up! You can’t
tell me that you can just wave your wallet in their faces and suddenly they
have something.” I almost yell.
“Then you underestimate the power of money, Kiska. I’ll need you to
tell me everything you know.” He pauses and stands from his chair. “There
is nothing more powerful than knowledge and money, not in this world
anyway.”

102. Lukas looks away from me before turning and asking, “So, do we have
a deal beautiful?” He checks his Rolex on his wrist.
I pause a little too long, distracted. He thinks I’m beautiful. No one has ever
called me that, even if he might not mean it.
This is a lot. I’ve only ever trusted myself when it comes to looking
into my sister’s disappearance. I don’t know if I can trust him; she’s my
weak spot. I’d have to be vulnerable and tell him things I have only ever
told my best friend. He stands there, only two feet away, now watching me
closely.
When I lay it all out in my head it makes sense for me to agree. I mean
yes, we have chemistry and an unhealthy attraction to one another, but
maybe it will pass. If we have a distraction like searching for Alexis, then
that should take over any other emotions or temptation, right? She’ll be our
focus.
As far as staying here goes, it isn’t as if I’ll be here forever, just while
we are working together. He says I’ll be safe here with him, and I know he
means from Robert. I still haven’t heard a peep from him at all, so am I
really in as much danger as Lukas thinks? I don’t understand his actions.
For all we know, Robert is dead.
Maybe Lukas has a hero complex, a fucked up one anyway.
He clears his throat bringing me back to the room.
“I have three questions before I decide. One, what happens if we can’t
find anything? Two, what happens if we do find her?” My voice cracks with
emotion. My mind wandering to dark places I try to stop it from going. But
if we really are going to do this, I need to face it, I need to be ready for
either outcome. My eyes glass over, reality dawning on me that what if my
sister is safe and living on some exotic island somewhere living the high
life (which I would probably kill her for anyway for putting me through so
much pain).
But… what if my sister is dead?
I’ve spent so long searching for her, looking for clues, evidence—
anything. I have spent countless hours, days and nights walking through the
streets, searching for the one constant in my life. I have been so focused on
her being alive, never once letting the sinister thought that she might be
dead cross my mind, because for me it isn’t an option. But now that I had
voiced the question aloud, it hits me hard. My throat clogs with emotion

103. that I can’t swallow back down and hide away until I’m alone and can let it
out.
Movement catches my eye, Lukas’s fingers twitch by his side looking
like they want to touch me, comfort me even, but he doesn’t. I try again at
swallowing down the lump in my throat. Blinking away the unshed tears
pooling in my eyes, I let out a humorless laugh, trying my hardest to lighten
the mood. I don’t want him to see me like this. I clear my throat, concealing
the sadness I keep hidden inside.
“And question three, what is ‘Kiska’?” I lift my head up, my eyes
connecting with his for the first time in long minutes, his expression
solemn, thoughtful, and then intrigued.
“First, if there is anything to find, I will find it. That’s a promise.
Second, if we find her then we—you—will have your sister back, safe and
sound.” The words ‘safe and sound’ spits like venom leaving his lips as he
almost hisses them. I shrug it off though.
“And third, Kiska is Russian.” I catch a small grin after he says it.
“You speak Russian?” Color me intrigued. I mean I know he’s
privileged, that much is obvious, but I haven’t heard of many English-
speaking people to know the Russian language—it is usually the other way
around. I think some people who have English as their first language get
complacent and a little lazy. Just because the majority of the world speaks
English doesn’t mean the effort shouldn’t go the other way.
“My father was Russian, so yes, I speak Russian.” He stops, not
sharing any more information about himself. I want to know more and
that’s when a question sparks in my head.
“Can I ask you a question?” I start, wanting to dig a little deeper in
finding out the mystery that is Lukas whoever-he-is.
An amused frown makes a line in his forehead. “You’re asking me if
you can ask a question?” He huffs out a quick laugh and the sound is so
hauntingly beautiful. I want it again and again. “Ok, I can’t promise that I’ll
answer it, but yeah, shoot.”
“I’m staying here with you and I don’t know anything about you, not
even your full name… It’s a little weird.” I scrunch up my nose.
I want to maintain the light mood we have between us. It’s always so
intense, that this is kind of refreshing, even if we were clawing at each
other’s bodies in a haze of erotic desire only a few moments ago.

104. Lukas looks a little uncomfortable, a flash of uncertainty and
resistance in his eyes. I know he’s reserved when it comes to disclosing
information about himself, but I’m not asking for a lot. Just his name to
start.
“Evans is my last name. Lukas Evans.” He’s fidgety, his fist clenching
and unclenching like this is torture, talking about himself to me. It’s just a
name, why is he so worked up?
It puts me on edge, and I don’t know why. There is this niggling
feeling of more. More of what? I can’t tell you. There is just, more.

105. CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Lukas
I lied. I told Emilia my last name was Evans. Obviously, I fucking made it
up. I had to think fast and here we are. I can’t risk her connecting the dots to
my brother. It’s so goddamn trivial but if I’m being honest—as well as
keeping my real identity hidden—I like that she doesn’t know who I am.
Everybody forms their own opinion of me from what they’ve heard
through the grapevine or gossip blogs and media outlets, and about ninety-

106. eight-point-nine percent of the time they’re right. But the other one-point-
one percent of the time they’re wrong, and they are wrong where it counts,
which has more to do with who I am as a person because of him, Viktor
Elin—my father.
The thought of Viktor makes my gut stir. He created a monster. My
mom tried her hardest to show me the light, no matter how dark things got,
but after she died, I was a lost cause.
Now all I have is a craving to break and destroy everything around me,
including the woman standing across the room.
I can feel my pulse spiking and my temper heating up like a blazing
furnace. Emilia is watching me, and I know she senses the change in my
mood, if it isn’t from the scowl I’m wearing, then it’s my fists braced and
ready to punch something. I take a deep breath, willing the beast to simmer.
I won’t allow him to come out. It’s a battle I fight every moment I spend
with this intoxicating, beautiful liar. I doubt the girl is scared, not with the
shit I won’t allow myself to imagine she’s been through. She hasn’t seen my
kind of scary though. I hope she never does. She’s no damsel in distress. I
know she’s strong; it’s one of the things I can’t help but admire about her.
Her strength will serve her well with what’s to come.
I press her, still waiting for her words. I need her to say yes.
“Yes or no?”
“What if I say no?” There she is. That’s my girl challenging me.
My girl? What the fuck. She is not my girl. She is nothing.
I don’t know what she thinks she’ll accomplish by challenging me; she
won’t win. I always get my way—one way or another. There’s an easy way
and a hard way. I’m more than willing to show her both, but I don’t think
she’ll like the hard way. Or maybe she will, I know she likes the fight
between us—so do I.
Three strides later and I’m so close, close enough to smell her fruity
scent that caresses my senses. My dick stirs at the exotic fragrance
reminding me of the taste of her. I’m desperate not to have another moment
where I lose sight of reality, like the fucking intense one we just had.
Everything inside of me tells me to stop but my body doesn’t want to listen.
My body doesn’t give a shit if it breaks every rule in the fucking
book. It’s pretty damn obvious that my cock wants to fuck her into the next
century and doesn’t give a shit about the consequences. That’s where we
have a problem. My mind and my body can battle it out. But in those

107. moments with her, my body wins almost every time, meaning my
conscience is pretty much fucked to hell. Though I never have had much of
one anyway.
I lean into her and she takes a small step back as I invade her space
again. It’s involuntary and I can tell by the way her chest moves rapidly and
how her pupils dilate—she wants it. Emilia’s reaction makes my ego quake
with smugness.
“You sure you want to say no, sweetheart? I think we both know you
want to say yes. Multiple times.” I smirk as I taunt her, enjoying every
moment her eyes widen a fraction more. I can’t help but laugh at the look of
disbelief and desire in her eyes. “Let me put it this way, I don’t give a fuck
what your answer is. Consider this your new home until further notice, so
you can quit trying to convince me that it’s a good idea to stay with your
little friend. I’ll pretend that this is the last thing you want but we both
know that’s bullshit. You want to find your sister and I want—” I shut the
fuck up before I tell her anything close to the truth.
Her eyes are glued to my lips.
“You want what?”
I want her to shut the fuck up. She’s dragging too much from me, and I
can’t stop myself. It’s as if she draws it out from my insides. I feel like I’m
slipping away from the reason I’m keeping her here. There’s too much
riding on me to screw it up. Elijah deserves better. My brother deserves
justice. I can feel the rage bubbling up in my blood beneath my skin, unable
to control the anger within me, too many thoughts racing through my head.
I snap, getting in her face.
“I want you to accept this is the best offer you’re going to get. You
want to be on the fucking street? Fine. Go. But if he finds you—touches
you—I will rip him limb from fucking limb until he’s nothing but a heap of
flesh on the ground. You’re mine.” Fury ricochets through my bones, my
body shaking. She is mine. Mine to protect. Mine to destroy.
I need to get out. I can feel the beast teetering on the edge of release
and the way she’s looking at me is fucking me up in ways I don’t want to
acknowledge. I’ve been conditioned to be the monster my father forced me
to be but there’s a part of her, the innocence in her eyes that makes me want
to fight it. Elijah fell into the trap of Alexis Blake. He played with fire and
he got burnt. I can’t let Emilia repeat history.

108. I storm out, my fist connecting with a wall, blood spreading down my
knuckles. Sometimes the darkness takes a hold of me and pulls me deep
under until I can’t see anything but the depths of my dark and tainted soul.
I slam my bedroom door behind me and lock it. My back thuds against
the door in defeat. Every bit of guilt, shame, rage and torment are getting on
top of me. It feels like a weight being pushed onto my shoulders and if I
don’t relieve it soon, it will crush my bones to pulp.
I will find Alexis. If I don’t, I may just suffocate and be crushed under
not only my own discretions, but her secrets she keeps hidden away beneath
the dirt.

109. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Emilia
I hear the plaster crack under the force of his anger as I stand in Lukas’s
office after he stormed out.
His mood swings give me whiplash if I am honest. One second he
ignores my presence, the next he is worshipping my body in ways no one
has ever done before. He taunts and teases, but then he seems to despise
sharing the same air as me. I can’t work him out and it’s starting to affect

110. me in ways it shouldn’t. Nothing about us is normal. It’s fire, passion and
lust infused with danger, resistance and cruelty. It’s exhausting, but I can’t
seem to fight against my better judgment to resist him.
Lukas didn’t want me to see his aggression. Maybe he thinks I can’t
handle it—that it will trigger my very recent past. I come from a home
where violence is as inevitable as the sun rising each morning and the moon
glowing each night. I’m numb to it.
In his own way I know he’s trying to protect me, and the thought
makes my chest tight. But he’s wrong though, I can handle it. Lukas has no
idea what I can handle—nobody does. I’m strong and it’s a quality I love
about myself, probably more than anything. After all the shit I’ve been
served, my strength is the one thing that continues to blossom and never
wavers. I’ve had to be strong my whole life, at times more than others so I
would always have my shield drawn close to my chest ready for impact;
and maybe that makes it hard for me to let anyone in, but that’s just the way
I’m programmed. At this point it will take a freaking genius to even attempt
rewiring me.
I’m upstairs, following the sounds of heavy metal until I’m outside of
what I presume is his bedroom door. "Torn in Two" by Breaking Benjamin
blasts through the dark wood as I press my fingers into the intricately
curved markings on the door, unsure of what I’m doing here. I hear the song
coming to an end and turn around, treading lightly on the marble so my
boots don’t make too much noise—consciously chickening out on whatever
brought me to him in the first place, because maturity is overrated.
I see a little white sheet of paper on my bed. It’s thick and made of
card stock with an elegant inscription of my name on the front. Flipping it
over there’s a message:
Dinner tonight in the dining room. 7pm
Lukas.
That should be interesting. I could bet that our dinner would be filled
with harsh words and teasing, or absolutely nada. He probably dropped this
off earlier when I was at college. No doubt he’s either hoping I don’t show
or hopes I forget about it.
◆◆◆

111. Earlier today, I met up with Melody at the front gates of campus like
we always do. She meets me there when she can—Mel attends the college
in the city. She wore a fitted emerald green, long sleeved top that made her
strawberry blonde hair stand out—I swear that color was made for red
heads. I’d snorted when she argued her black ripped jeans which were
slashed at the knees and all up her thighs were destined to find her ass
because they hug and squeeze it like no man ever has. Yep, that’s my best
friend, and she is literally the best person I know. I would die for that girl
and I really do mean that.
People say it half-heartedly all of the time but if it came down to it and
your friend had a gun held to her head most people wouldn’t jump in front
of them. But I would. Pain and I are sort of on okay terms due to the
amount of time we spend together. As a result of that, I don’t run from it. I
take it, rolling with the punches.
We made our way into the building—it’s one of those buildings that’s
old but is trying to be modern which isn’t working for it, I mean just pick an
era. I study criminal law and Mel does dance—two opposite ends of the
spectrum. But the one thing we both love is dancing. There is nothing more
freeing than getting so lost in the music, the rhythm and beat that’s playing
into your body and soul.
We used to make up our own dance routines when we were kids. I
always went to her house for that, never mine. These days the clubs and
bars are our playground.
I wanted to tell her about everything that’s happened over the last few
days—that Robert attacked me, that I’m essentially homeless after the fire
(which she already knew and freaked out about, but I told her I was fine and
staying with a friend). I wanted to tell her about Lukas, but I didn’t, I didn’t
say anything and I’m not sure why but something held me back. In a sick
and twisted way, I feel like him and I are our own little secret, and for now
that’s how I want it to stay.
I sink back onto my bed falling into the mattress that softly hugs my
body. I think about dinner tonight. Every other meal I’ve just been left with
a tray waiting for me either inside of the room or outside of the door.
There’s always a knock when I am inside but nobody waiting on the other
side. So, my theory of a phantom maid plays on my mind again. I mean no
one can move that quickly, surely.

112. Maybe he wants to talk to me about Lexi and what our next steps will
be. It still doesn’t make much sense to me why he would want to help, but
I’ll take any help I can get; I need to find her. Even though Lexi and I
weren’t all that close—much at all really—she is still my only family, blood
family who I have left… who I hope I still have left.
Melody is my chosen family and sometimes they end up being just as
important to you as blood, and in my case, she is more important. My soul
sister. The only true constant who’s been there with me through it all, by my
side holding me up when I felt like falling down so far that the demons
beneath the earth were clutching on to my ankles willing me to fall into the
depths of hell.
I pull out my phone from my back pocket so I can send a text to Mel to
check in and see how her class went because Jensen—my babysitter/driver
—said it was ‘imperative that I return as soon as my class is over’ which of
course I didn’t listen to because fuck that. I don’t need to follow orders of a
scarier version of ‘Joe’ from The Princess Diaries. He sounded Russian too,
which made him seem even more scary for some reason. Maybe he’s related
to Lukas or something; he did say his father was Russian. I also noted that
he said ‘was’ but I didn’t want to push him because it really isn’t any of my
business. But I am curious about Lukas and his family.
I ended up walking around campus for an hour to kill time and make
Jensen wait. The weather was still a little chilly, the wind biting at my skin
a little as I dragged out my tiny little rebellion of the day, not rebellious at
all I know, but it’s all I could do. And if I am honest it gave me some smug
satisfaction. Not that it was ‘Joe’s’ fault -- that’s what I’m calling him now.
My fingers skim the touchscreen of my phone and I send a quick
message to Mel, deciding I should probably come out with the truth.
Me: Hey, I need to talk to you about something, can we meet soon?
I get a reply within two minutes.
Mel: Hey babe, yeah sure! How about a few drinks while we catch
up?... I NEED them!
Me: Ha! You and me both, where and when?
Mel: La Rouge and I can pick you up? Tomorrow night?

113. Shit. I don’t want her to pick me up from here, it’ll only end up with
her asking questions that I will need a few dozen shots before answering. I
also don’t want Lukas to know. I feel like he has too much control over me
and there’s a big part of me that hates it. I desperately need something to
rebel against, and I guess this is it. Some freedom, fun and dancing with my
best friend and maybe (definitely) a few tequila shots. Harmless.
‘La Rouge’ is a club about a twenty-minute drive into the city from
here, so I assume Mel isn’t going to have more than a couple drinks. It’s our
favorite place to go to let loose and lose ourselves in the heat and sweaty
bodies who pack the space. It’s grungy but we love that, because it means
no snooty, preppy assholes come because it isn’t their ‘scene’.
Me: Can you pick me up at the beach, I’ll wait in the parking lot for
you? 11pm?
Mel: You and that beach. *heart and kissy face emoji* Sounds good my
little weirdo, can’t wait! X
I let out a deep breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. Rolling over on
to my stomach I open the drawer to find my headphones that I stashed in
the bedside table, connect them to my phone and crash back into the pillow.
I hit play on Spotify settling on Taylor Swift’s album "Folklore" needing the
calming and mesmerizing melodies to soothe me.
Moments with Lukas dance around in my head as I relive his hands on
me earlier; his hands inside of my body playing me like an instrument until
he stopped. His face plays in my memory like a montage of blue eyes, sharp
jawlines, soft and powerful lips that seem to read exactly what I want from
them. The perfect pressure and speed when he kissed me was like he was
inside of my mind responding to my inner desires. The music and his eyes
lure me deeper into a peaceful sleep.

114. CHAPTER TWENTY
Emilia
Bang! Bang! Bang! I dart upright in my bed, sweat dripping from my
body. I can feel my t-shirt stuck to my back. Is Robert here? My heart is
beating out of my chest as my eyes adjust. No dingy, dark box room, no
single bed with my dresser pushed up close to it. Lots of space and room to
breathe. I inhale as much air as I can, filling my lungs to capacity, realizing

115. Robert is not here. I’m safe. Then I remember Lukas is here, so am I really
safe? I believe my life is, but my heart definitely isn’t.
My head snaps toward the door where the sound came from, blinking
my eyes open a few more times as they take in the darkness of the room, I
check my phone. 7.45pm. Shit! I take it I’m a little late for dinner with
Lukas.
Quickly changing my shirt that still clings to the dampness of my back,
I grab a clean shirt throwing it on, run my fingers through my hair and
check that my mascara hasn’t given me panda eyes after my four-hour nap.
Licking my fingers and wiping gently under my eyes I wipe away two small
smudges of black then I’m good to go.
Swinging the door open ready to be graced with a pissed off Lukas,
I’m surprised when a woman stands on the other side. She is just a little
taller than me which isn’t very difficult, quite petite and her deep turquoise
eyes are kind looking, although her resting bitch face is the real deal. She
has dark hair tied back in a neat low bun, her cheeks are full and her lips a
little thin, but that may be because she’s pursing them as we take each other
in. I should probably say something, but she beats me to it.
“Miss Blake, I presume? You’re late for your dinner with Mr. El-
Evans.” She clears her throat and continues before I have a chance to open
my mouth. “Mr. Evans does not like to be kept waiting. I do hope that you
have an acceptable explanation for your tardiness?” She tilts her head to the
side clasping her left hand in her right one in front of her body, waiting for
my excuse, telling by her expression one was not amused. And damn
straight I turned up my impression of a British accent all the way to eleven.
“Uh sorry, I fell asleep.” I don’t offer any more information because I
don’t have any more to give, and she’s a little abrupt and snappy from my
first impression of her, so I am not about to make small talk.
“Hmm. Well, we had better hurry. Your impromptu ‘nap’ has already
caused Mr. Evans to have to delay a social appointment.”
I don’t like her already.
I reluctantly follow her as she hurries down the staircase around to the
left, leading me to a room toward the back of the house. We fly past several
doors on the way, and I am still left wondering why one person needs so
much space. The nameless woman, who I am assuming is the phantom
maid minus the phantom part, stops in the doorway nearly causing me to
crash into her back that’s wound so tight and rigid I fight the urge to tell her

116. she might want to loosen the stick that’s wedged up her ass before she
causes herself a serious injury. Clearing her throat, she announces us like
we just jumped into an episode of Bridgerton. “Apologies, sir, Miss Blake
had fallen asleep.” She emphasized the words ‘fallen asleep’ as if I had
come up with a grand scheme of pretending to sleep. How outrageous of
me.
I swear if looks could kill she would be a pile of ash on the oh-so-
perfectly polished marble floor. The daggers I’m shooting her way aren’t
missed though. Lukas coughs roughly, causing my attention to snap from
the back of phantom maid’s head to his piercing glare. I hold his eye contact
for an intense moment before a glimmer of amusement flashes in his own,
and I see the start of a small smirk growing at the side of his pretty mouth.
Is my expression that obvious?
Phantom maid walks to the chair across the table, opposite of Lukas,
pulling it out and gesturing with a sharp nod of her head, for me to sit. I do.
She scurries off out of the dining room mumbling incoherent things on her
way out. No doubt whining about me.
Silence fills the room except for the persistent ticking of the
grandfather clock on the far end of the room. Twiddling my fingers and
playing with the hem of my t-shirt, I look down noticing my deep blue lace
bra is obscenely visible through the thin white cotton shirt I threw on.
Great.
It really was unintentional. I had just woken up, still slightly comatose
with a foggy brain and rushing around because I didn’t want Lukas pissed
at me, and here we are. Sitting across from one another, with my less than
discreet show of my bra. It is part of a matching pair with the thong I had
on, which also reminds me that I’m naked underneath my jeans. That, and
the rough seam that keeps rubbing up against my crotch, igniting a small
flicker of heat between my legs every time I move. I cross them under the
table. The energy between us crackles with chemistry and tension and I
slowly lift my head. Lukas already has his eyes on me, his gaze so intense
he looks right through me and into my soul, which I know it sound cheesy
but there is no other way to describe it. I feel like he sees me, really sees
me.
I squirm a little in my seat as his gaze pins me to the chair. I decide to
break the ice first.

117. “Sorry… I fell asleep, you can blame your bed for that. It’s literally the
best I have ever slept.” I laugh and give him a small smile then return my
focus to the place mat in front of me when he grabs my attention and says,
“Your bed.” He corrects me. “You haven’t slept in my bed.”
Something passes between us but this time it’s different, it’s gentle and soft.
I swallow and his eyes follow the movement, pausing on my lips on the
way down. The air is thick with so many unsaid truths and confessions.
“You don’t have to feel guilty… about before, in your office.” I speak
softly. “And before you say you don’t possess those feelings or care, it’s
okay, really. I can take it. I can take a lot.” I smirk and he lets out a husky
laugh which makes my stomach warm in delicious ways.
Lukas nods discreetly, lifting his hands onto the dining table, his
fingers on his Rolex twisting it around slightly. I notice he’s not wearing his
shirt from before; he was in a charcoal grey fitted t-shirt. The color
complimented his eyes beautifully, and the way his biceps and the ropes in
his forearms stood out, made my mouth water. There’s something about a
man’s arms, this man’s arms.
Lukas still wears a small grin on his face, and I store it away in my
memory for later, when he’ll inevitably say or do something mean. It’s not a
grimace or a smug smirk, a genuine smile, small but it is there. I see it and I
want more of those smiles.
When he brings his eyes to mine, there’s a small frown making three
little creases appear between his brows, like he’s thinking about what to say
next. After a long minute he replies, “I don’t feel guilty. And you’re
wrong... I do care.” He lifts his hand, tracing the outline of his lips with his
index finger. “I care about a lot of things. But there’s a problem with caring
about things—mainly people.”
I watch him intently as I wait for him to give me a glimpse into his
soul. One I don’t realize how badly I want.
“When you care about others, you’ll start to care about their opinions,
their views and judgements. And where does that leave your own opinions
and views? Clouded by the need to please those around you, who you care
about so much, that in the end you can never truly be you.” There it is… my
glimpse into Lukas Evans’ mind.
His honesty and the truth behind his words strikes me because I agree
with every word he says. I understand this more than most, which is why I
shut myself off from the world. I’ve already lost so much of myself—caring

118. about others and putting them before me, and in the end, I feel irrelevant
and forgotten.
“And those people who you take the time to care for usually end up
leaving anyway.”
Our moment is interrupted by phantom maid, who I now know is Anita
after Lukas thanks her for the food she lays out in front of us. I still prefer
my name for her.
My stomach growls loudly, and I remember I had slept through lunch, so I
haven’t eaten since earlier this morning.
“Hungry?” Lukas asks with a playful look in his eyes.
“I slept through lunch, so yeah, just a little.” I look up at him through
my lashes, a little flushed after my stomach performed a Broadway musical
worthy growl.
Anita gestures to the various dishes set out on the table, the aroma already
making my mouth water.
“Help yourself to anything… can I get you anything to drink?” she
pointedly looks at me. “Water perhaps?”
There’s an awkward silence that follows until Lukas speaks up. “No,
thank you, Anita, that will be all. You can take the rest of the night off. I’ll
clean up.” He gives her a small smile and even though she seems like a
grade-a bitch it is good to know that Lukas treats his staff well. Just because
he’s wealthy doesn’t mean that he treats everyone around him like shit, like
they are less than him. I can’t stand that about people in powerful positions.
The way I see it is that we come in the same way, and go out the same way
—in a box.
Lukas doesn’t speak until after he finishes his meal, which leaves me
overthinking how loud I’m chewing, the sounds of forks and knives
scraping together. I hate eating in front of people. Like how do people walk
around in the street eating food? I can’t understand it.
Once we both finish Lukas stands up pushing his chair back, the legs
scraping against the floor. I thought he was about to leave but instead of
walking through the door, he stops to the right of it, in front of a cabinet. He
pulls out two glasses and a glass decanter of some amber liquid, whiskey I
assume. He turns his head over his shoulder looking at me.
“Are you a whiskey or a wine kind of girl?” He quirks up an eyebrow
when I reply.

119. “Definitely whiskey, on the rocks. Thanks.” I hear the clink of ice
being dropped into the glass just before he makes his way back to the table.
Instead of going to his seat he drops into the one beside mine, pouring a
generous amount into my glass, doing the same for him.
He knocks back the contents of his glass in three seconds flat without a
single wince at the alcohol that burns down his throat. Pouring another he
does the same again. Did I miss the part where we decided we were playing
a drinking game?
Lukas doesn’t strike me as the kind of man to need liquid courage.
No, this man does what he likes, when he likes, so I don’t know why this
puts me on edge. I toss back my glass pouring the liquid down the back of
my throat. I welcome the burn that I feel immediately in my stomach.
After he downs his third shot of whiskey, he slams his glass onto the
table and focuses on me. Grabbing the arm of the chair, he swings it around
with ease until we are facing each other, my knees knocking the fronts of
his. Looking up at his face, amused by his actions, a smile plays on his lips.
“We’re going to play a game.” His tongue darts out to lick across his
bottom lip drawing my gaze to the movement as he waits for me to argue, I
imagine. He’s wrong though, because the alcohol that burns in my belly has
given me a little liquid courage of my own and I’m feeling brave. I lean
forward resting my forearms on my thighs, looking up at this beautiful
deadly creature.
“What game are we playing?”
Lukas ponders, screwing up his face pretending to think. The fucker
already knew what he was doing when he suggested it, but it’s cute.
This whiskey is strong. There’s nothing ‘cute’ about this man.
“Hmmm. How about truth or dare?” His voice is full of teasing and
something deeper. Yeah, he knows exactly what he’s doing. I’m starting to
feel a little fuzzy after our fifth shot of whiskey.
“Okay, you’re on.” I smile, the whiskey is making me bold.
Lukas leans down, mimicking my pose, his elbows resting on his
strong thighs. He sucks his lip between his teeth, and something stirs in my
belly that isn’t the drink.
“You ready to tell me all your secrets, Kiska?” he asks.
“Are you?” I challenge him and something flashes in his eyes but is
gone in a second, too fast for me to see what it was.

120. He fills up our glasses halfway and sits back, his head tilted causing
his gaze to look down at me, his legs spread wide.
“Truth or dare, Emilia?”
Weighing my options I choose truth because in my current state of
tipsiness I worry I would do whatever he dared me to do, which would not
be good for me in the morning when the alcohol fog clears. I’m settled on
my answer. “Truth, my dear hero.” Dear God, what am I saying? I shouldn’t
drink—especially around him.
The way he’s looking at me makes my skin prickle with anticipation.
Anxiety spreads through me while I wait for what he’s going to ask. What I
might have to confess to him.
Lukas taps his chin dragging out the torture, thinking of what truth he
can extract from me. My pulse spikes a little when it dawns on me that he
can ask me anything. There’s so much I don’t want to reveal. I like my
Pandora’s box sealed up tight. Why do I feel like he’s about to unravel it—
unravel me? The problem is, not only does the alcohol loosen my lips—not
those lips—but it’s like a truth serum, and I hope it doesn’t take effect
anytime soon. On the contrary, Lukas is hoping for the opposite.
I’m nervously awaiting his question when he clears his throat
dramatically. Maybe there’s a sense of humor he hides in there somewhere.
Anxiety builds in my body, then he asks, “What’s your favorite color?”
I laugh with relief. I can feel the grin stretch across my face when I
answer, “Blue is my favourite colour. Now it’s my turn.” I squint my eyes
and ask, “Truth or dare?”
Lukas licks his lips staring down at me with his usual smirk in place,
and I can tell by the fire and direction of his eyes, that he’s thinking of my
bra—which he can absolutely see right now—and my matching blue thong
that he tore off. I still haven’t seen it since. His eyes are sparkling with lust
and I want to swim in those deep blue depths, like the amber whiskey is
swimming through my bloodstream right now.
“Dare.” His gaze is dark as he picks up his drink and knocks it back,
licking his lips slowly. I know what to dare him as soon as the words leave
his lips.
“I dare you to tell me all of your secrets.” My grin leaves my face as I
watch his eyes, his pupils blown and black like the night sky.
“You want my secrets?” His frown darkens his features. “You couldn’t
handle all of my secrets, sweetheart. But there is one I can let you in on.”

121. He pauses and his eyes sweep over my body, moving up from my legs
stopping at every destination on the way up until his eyes meet mine.
“Really, and what’s that?” I wait a long minute until he speaks.
“I’m not who you think I am.” His face is hard as stone as he delivers
his words, his tone full of warning and truth. “My turn. Truth or dare,
Emilia?” I don’t know what to say to him, so I bite the bullet.
“Truth.”
Lukas’s knee bounces up and down ferociously, he pours and shoots
another shot of whiskey.
“How close were you and Alexis? Did you tell each other all your
secrets?”
That alone shakes me out of my flirtatious mood, and it’s too heavy.
The atmosphere in the room has changed and I want it to go back to the
light and fun energy it was before. But I owe him a truth.
“Honestly, no. We weren’t close. It was better when we were kids but
as we got older it’s like she couldn’t stand to be around me, and I never
knew why. Alexis had her own world, but I wasn’t a part of it,” I confess,
feeling too vulnerable and I blame the booze.
“Why not?” Lukas frowns, his eyes fixated on me.
“You already got your truth,” I say.
“I want another one. You owe me for being late for dinner.”
I huff out a heavy breath, emotion making my nose tingle.
“Why weren’t you a part of her world?”
“I don’t know. Different lives, I guess. She was popular, always busy
with friends and guys.” Lukas’s jaw pops under his skin.
“And you weren’t?” he asks. I laugh nervously. If only he knew.
“No. I don’t really like… people.” Lukas sneers at that like he can
relate, his eyes still hard. “She barely looked at me for months before she
went missing, but I still liked having her home. Robert wasn’t as bad when
her and my mom were there. Uh, I’m sorry. I’m drunk.” I stop, meeting his
eyes.
They are slightly squinted like he’s trying to solve an equation, deep
lines etch into his forehead, his lips are pursed. He shakes his head subtly,
but I catch it.
“Do you remember what happened the night she went missing?” he
asks, his voice raspy.

122. “Not really. Just that she went out all night, which wasn’t unusual for
her… and she didn’t come back. Something was off before that though. I
remember a couple nights before she disappeared, she came home looking
like a mess. Her hair wild and her body all cut up and bruised. There was
blood on her hands and clothes… everywhere. I tried to ask her what
happened and if she was okay, but she just slammed her door in my face.
And that was it” I reach for the bottle and pour myself a shot. Lukas just
stares, as if he’s seen a ghost.
I feel bare, naked. I can’t believe I just said all those things to him.
Now he’s just looking straight through me, his expression dark, confused
and anguished. The glaze over his eyes tells me he isn’t here, he’s
somewhere else right now. I stay quiet waiting for him to come back.
I know Lukas carries the weight of the world like I do, I can see it in
his eyes. The weight on his shoulders is different than mine though, more
sinister, and darker.
I can’t pinpoint why, but there’s a light about him that calls to me. It’s
dim though, as if life licked its fingers and burned out the match. His
darkness calls to me just the same. Nobody can resist the allure of darkness,
no matter how much they deny it or lie to themselves. Light and dark are a
package deal, and you can’t have one without the other. Like yin and yang,
good and bad. Newton’s law of gravity even states that ‘for every action
there is an equal and opposite reaction’.
That’s why I choose to embrace both the light and the dark because
that alone helps me sleep at night. I don’t sit here pretending to be some
perfect saint, preaching to the world that the sun shines out of my ass, I
know I’m fucked up… and that’s ok.
I’m lucky enough to have my strength rooting me to the earth, and a
friend like Melody anchoring me to the ground, so I can bask in the delight
of both.
Seven minutes of silence later (minus the ticking of the clock) I start to
pile up the dishes and the clinking of the china snaps his attention back to
me.
“What are you doing?” Lukas asks as if it isn’t obvious.
“Well since your help has gone, you might as well make use of the
charity case in the room.” I laugh half-heartedly, attempting to lighten the
mood from the intensity clouding over us. Lukas narrows his eyes at me.

123. “Look, I don’t want to relive my shitty past, okay? I just want to keep
it light.” I look down, not because I’m embarrassed or anything, but
because his gaze is so intense once again, and I don’t want it to invade my
already foggy, drunk brain.
There’s a moment of silence as he considers what I said, but when he
replies it feels loaded with unanswered answers. “I don’t think it will ever
be ‘light’ between us Emilia.” Lukas stands and walks out of the room.
A minute later I hear the front door close and a low rumble of an engine, the
sound of the tires crunching on the gravel, then he’s gone.
I clear up what’s left after our dinner, stacking the plates and glasses
on top of one another and into the dishwasher, before I chug a pint of water
to ease my impending hangover. I’m getting a little more familiar with the
place.
Don’t get too comfortable. An insecure little voice warns from inside,
but I ignore it.
Once I’m in my room I jump in the shower and crash into bed. I’ve
given my bed the name ‘Aphrodite,’ because the goddess of love seriously
delivered when she gave me this divinity. Sleep comes quick and easily.

124. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Emilia
The next day goes by in a blur and I barely see anyone. I spend most of my
time familiarizing myself with the push and pull of the tide as I sit on the
balcony waiting for dinner and wondering if there’s going to be a repeat of
last night—just the eating part.
I’m waiting till the time comes when I can sneak out to meet Mel more
than anything. I need time with my girl. Not gonna lie, I’m also in shock

125. that I was not cursed with a hangover today at all, not that I didn’t deserve
it.
Thank fuck for water.
By the time seven-thirty rolls around I get a knock on my door. A tray
is outside the door waiting for me and I guess that answers my question—
we’re back to eating separately. I wolf it down because my appetite seems
to have tripled today, which I am totally blaming on the alcohol. Every time
I have a drink or ten, the next day I can eat for England.
It’s nine-forty-five when I’m slipping into the closet, deciding on
which of the dresses I want to rock tonight. I settle for a little black dress.
It’s a fitted halter style with the entire back open, the material barely
covering the top of my ass. I want to have fun tonight and look good doing
it. I always feel more confident when I’m looking my best, and I
desperately need that right now.
Grabbing the makeup bag I found in the bathroom cabinet—which is
literally filled with the fanciest brands of makeup and skincare products any
girl like me could only dream of—I line my eyes in thick black liner,
making the blue of my irises even more striking than usual. Mascara comes
next but I only do one layer because my long, curled and dark lashes are
apparently the one good thing that came from my father, according to my
mom. I wear a little blush with a small amount of shimmer to add to the
highlight of my cheekbones, and a deep red lip. I leave my hair in the
natural waves it dried in after my shower this morning, brushing it out a
little. I don’t like my hair to look prim and proper, I like it a little messy and
wild. I throw on a leather jacket from the closet and some military boots
because ‘La Rouge’ is not a heels kind of place. Nor am I a heels kind of
girl.
I check myself out in the mirror before I attempt my break-out and am
pleased with the outcome: my makeup is really good, not too subtle but not
over the top, and my hair looks intentionally messy, a little sexy, and it
flows down my back covering the bare skin. I actually look pretty hot, and
it feels so good knowing in less than an hour I’m going to be with my best
friend, letting loose and letting go of all of my burdens, even if it is just for
tonight.
I grab my purse and phone, opening the door slowly, not hearing any
sound at all. I quietly close my bedroom door and tiptoe down the stairs.
I’m praying he doesn’t have some kind of security alarm set on the door or

126. something, not that it, or he would stop me. I creep across the foyer, gently
pulling the door handle down bracing for a deafening alarm to blow my
cover, but there’s nothing, no sound.
I move fast, running down the driveway and pulling my jacket around
my body tight, shielding it from the cold.
Trying to navigate my way down to the parking lot of Penderal Bay is
super fun in the dark… not. I make it with one minute to spare before I hear
Mel’s Ferrari speed into the lot. Yeah, she’s fucking loaded, well her family
is, which by association makes her filthy rich too. Mel has offered to give
me disgusting amounts of money over the years because she knows my
situation and wants to help, and I love her for it, but I don’t want it. Maybe
I’m too proud but I don’t care. She stopped asking me after a while
knowing how strongly I feel about it.
As she spins the car around, she puts the window down and screams,
“Holy shit you look hot Ems, I think I just turned.” She catcalls as she
parks, letting me get in as I roll my eyes at her laughing. This, this is what I
need. My girl always makes me laugh and feel so much lighter, no matter
what is weighing down on me.
“You turned? The male population will be thoroughly disappointed.
You better not fuck off with some hot bad boy tonight,” I joke. Mel gasps
dramatically, putting her hand to her heart, feigning insult.
“Would I ever!”
The answer to that is no, she has never abandoned me for a guy and
neither have I.
It’s a deal we made when we started going out to bars when we were
underage. I mean technically we still are, but we’re both turning twenty-one
in a matter of months so it’s not a big deal.
We didn’t think it was a big deal when we were seventeen either.
“So why did I just pick you up at the beach at 11pm? You don’t have a
secret lover do you?” She jokes with me… little does she know the reality.
Wait, no. He isn’t my lover.
“Good one. No, I do not have a secret lover.” I laugh as I answer her,
knowing I need to dish on everything that’s gone down.
“But… there is something I need to tell you but I’m going to need a
few hundred shots first,” I confess. Mel looks away from the road and at me
briefly. She looks concerned, taking me in before returning her gaze to the
road.

127. “Ok sure, shots first.” She agrees, focused on driving.
We sing at the top of our lungs to whatever comes on the radio,
laughing so hard we nearly cry. I’ve missed this. I don’t care what anyone
says, these moments are pure magic. There is nothing better than spending
time with your girlfriends, getting a little tipsy and dancing the night away.
Guys don’t get it. I think they must think girls go out to meet guys and
fuck. We don’t, well, there are some girls that do, but most of the time it’s
purely the freedom that comes with letting loose, being yourself and
embracing all of those parts of you that are hidden away in the hours of
daylight.
After twenty minutes we’re here. High on life and laughter and feeling
ready to drink and dance. Mel parks around the corner from the club
because she is ferociously cautious when it comes to her baby (that’s what
she calls it).
She looks amazing in tight black, high waisted shorts, fishnet tights,
and a loose fitted t-shirt with strategic rips—she’s tied it at the front so a
little of her toned midriff is on display. Like me, she’s wearing combat
boots because we know the drill. Her strawberry blonde hair is in loose
waves like mine, dropping to her waist, her makeup looking hot, dark
smoky eyes accentuating her bright bluey-green color and some neutral lip
gloss on her lips.
Giving each other a look of approval on our outfits, she loops her arm
in mine and we walk to the doors. The bouncer gives us a once-over, then a
twice-over taking us in, then nodding at the door gesturing for us to go in.
“Have a good night, ladies,” he says, and we smile in reply, and walk
inside.
The air is thick and smoky, the dancefloor to the left filled with
writhing bodies. Towards the back is the bar which curves around to the
right where there are some small intimate booths. Some couples are going
heavy on the PDA… and I’m pretty sure I see a guy with his hand up his
girl’s skirt as we walk by.
The music blares so loudly we can hardly hear ourselves think, hot
sweaty bodies already occupying the space as we push toward the bar. Once
we reach it, we sit on two of the free bar stools because most people are on
the floor dancing. We order five shots of tequila for each of us. Go hard or
go home. And I have some heavy shit to talk about so I’m definitely going
to need to take the edge off.

128. Knocking back our shots, our faces screw up as we suck on the lime.
We like to do that shit properly. Salt, tequila, lime.
The tequila burns down my throat until it reaches my belly still alight.
Already feeling a little buzzed I decide it’s time to tell Mel about the shit
that’s gone down.
“Okay!” I slam my hands down on the bar causing her to look at me
with an amused expression on her face.
“Oh okay, we’re doing this right now?” She laughs as she rubs her
hands together expectantly.
“Yes, we’re doing this now because if I get wasted too quickly, I will
spill it all and leave parts out,” I explain. She turns her body, so she is
facing me head on, giving me all of her attention.
I notice a guy, who looks about sixty, sit behind her and blatantly check out
her ass that is now facing him, and look over her shoulder until he catches
my eye.
“Hey, asshole! How about you divert your perverted eyes somewhere
other than my friend’s ass, yeah?” I can’t help it. Booze makes me feisty.
But it works because he gets up from his stool and moves somewhere else.
Mel’s still waiting with a huge grin on her face, laughing, after I called
out pervy old guy.
“You got me on the edge of my seat, Ems. What’s up?” she asks.
“Okay, so I know you know about the fire and how things were… with
Robert,” I start, her face suddenly turning serious.
“Yeah… Emilia, you’re worrying me now. If that asshole touched you,
I will fucking kill him!”
Melody says. That girl would go to battle for me and vice versa.
“Something happened and I don’t know what triggered it, but you
know what he’s like. Anything could be a trigger.” I take a deep breath and
continue. “So, I was in the bath and he kicked down the door and smashed
the cabinet above my head… then he grabbed me by my throat and held me
under until I passed out.”
Her hand covers her mouth, her eyes fill with unshed tears and horror
as she listens to my story. She grabs my hand yanking me to her and pulling
me into a death grip of a hug.
“I’m so sorry you went through that, Em. I can’t believe it got that
bad.” Something solidifies in her eyes, her mind made up about something.
“That’s it! I don’t care what your stubborn ass is about to say, you’re

129. coming home with me. I also know you hate people and that I’m your only
friend—no offense—so whoever this ‘friend’ you’re staying with is—”
There’s so much emotion that her voice cracks, but I cut her off.
“About that—” She goes to cut me off and I hold a finger up signaling
her to wait. “This guy… He saved me. I don’t fucking know how or who he
is, but he found me and when I woke up I was with him in his freaking
mansion. He’s letting me stay there with him which is why I asked you to
pick me up from the beach tonight.” I let out a massive exhale that feels so
good to release.
“Hold the fuck up. So, a random guy saved you and you’re now living
together?! Also, Ems, he is ‘letting’ you stay there? Come on, I know you
better than that.” Damn her for knowing me too well.
“Fine. It’s more like bribing me to stay there. He’s going to help me
look for Lexi.” I tell her, and she frowns when she responds.
“I know you want to find her, Emilia, but if you don’t want to be there,
then leave. You know you can stay with me.”
“I know that, and I love you for it. But…” I cover my face with my
hands because I cannot believe I am admitting this and I know how stupid it
sounds.
“But? But what?... Oooohh, okay I get it.” She lets out a surprised
laugh as she pieces it together.
“Yeah. It’s so fucked up, but I think I might, kind of… like him,” I
admit to Melody who has a grin plastered across her face.
“Is he hot?” She’s smiling as she signals for two more tequila shots to
the bartender, who is practically drooling over her.
“Put it this way, if Hades and Zeus morphed, that would be Lukas.”
“Oooh Lukas… Good name. And damn that man sounds like pure sex.
Men that hot shouldn’t exist, it’s just unfair to the rest of us mere mortals.”
She laughs with me as we down our shots, both feeling the fire of the
alcohol that’s flowing through our veins.
After slamming my shot glass on the bar, I glance over to Melody
who’s sitting there, her lips pulled tight in a straight line and a frown
between her brows, she looks concerned and it makes me feel bad for
worrying her, not that anything that happened was really in my control.
She grabs both of my hands in hers leaning forward a little, squeezing
them once.

130. “Are you okay though?” she asks, her eyes slightly glazed again. I
nod, a small smile tilting my lips up at the sides.
“I’m good. Promise.” I convince her, wanting to change the energy and
have fun.
“Dance?” I ask her with a suggestive eyebrow raise until she sags in
relief, letting out a breathy laugh.
“Yes! Let’s do this” she yells.
We make our way through the crowd to the middle of the dancefloor,
feeling the flow of adrenaline coursing through our veins from the tequila,
the beat and the atmosphere. Our bodies move on autopilot, hips swaying to
the rhythm, hands in the air, and Melody pulls at the roots of her hair as she
lets her head drop back. She’s in her element, completely lost to the music
and her body.
I am too and it’s the most exhilarating feeling.
"Play" by Alan Walker comes on next, and we switch up the tempo,
getting lost again, until some guys approach us from behind, two of them
getting a little too close. When the dude behind Melody tries to put his hand
under her shirt, she grabs it, twists her body and his hand around until it’s
pinned behind his back in a painful looking position. He lets out a yell of
pain and she whispers something in his ear that I can’t decipher, but his face
pales and he backs off.
I turn around ready to confront the guy who’s getting a little handsy
behind me and give him his own personal warning to back the fuck off, but
he isn’t anywhere in sight.
When the song changes again we start grinding up against each other
to Marilyn Manson’s "Tainted Love". Heads thrown back, bodies swaying
sensually, totally lost in the music when I feel my hairs stand up on the back
of my neck, goosebumps running all over me—which makes no sense
because I’m sweating from the dancing and collective body heat in here. I
ignore it and continue circling my hips slowly, my arms thrown over Mel’s
shoulders as she grinds against my leg, facing me.
I can imagine what it looks like judging from the aroused expressions
a lot of the guys are giving us, but who gives a shit. There is nothing wrong
with two girls dancing together, expressing their bodies and all that divine
feminine energy.
Mel brings her lips to my ear and loudly speaks over the music but
only so I can hear her, “Don’t look, but there is a seriously hot guy checking

131. you out right now.” She informs me as I go to turn around, but before I can
a guy’s hand comes between our bodies curving around Melody’s waist
pulling her back into him.
What an idiot. A fucking hot idiot.
Mel goes to swing at him, turning her body around with serious speed,
but before her fist connects to his face, he has her wrist captured in his
grasp. There’s a look of fire, hunger and dominance in his eyes as he stares
her down, and I mean down. He is really tall, maybe the same if not an inch
taller than Lukas. He’s intimidating much like Lukas, and just as hot. Mel’s
body language changes and she is no longer poised for a fight, but soft and
pliant, her arm still held in his fist which is now loosened. What the fuck?
I go to ask if she’s ok or if she wants to go to the bathroom with me so
I can be her decoy to help her escape this guy but as I take a step toward
them, a featherlight and all too familiar fingertip glides down my arm from
the top of my shoulder, shifting from my outer upper arm to the inside of
my forearm down to my wrist. My skin tingles and is covered in
goosebumps. I know this touch.
His other hand gently pulls my hair across my shoulder and back, to
one side, and I feel his body pressed up against my bare back. The heat
from his breath is the first thing that hits my skin before he growls into my
ear.
“What are you doing here Emilia?” Lukas breathes into me and the
sensation of another outbreak of shivers crawling all over my body, like
spiders.
Verging on the more drunk end of the tipsy scale, I’m feeling more
mischievous and daring.
“I’m dancing!” I yell loud enough so he can hear over the thumping
bass of the next song. To drive my point home, I push my ass into him
wiggling and swaying against him.
I’m still facing away from him, keeping an eye on Mel who has her
back to me, but I can see the glint of lust in the guy’s eyes and his smirk
says enough as he leans into her ear whispering things I probably don’t
want to hear. I know Mel and if this guy was bothering her, she would make
him leave, by force. So maybe they know each other or something. I don’t
really recognize him though; he has dark blond hair that looks a light brown
in the dimly lit space. His eyes look like they are green or blue, but again, in
the darkness of the club, they look like they are murky. His body is

132. amazing, tall with broad shoulders, roped in muscle that spreads perfectly
down the rest of his body—the body that is pressed against Mel right now,
and she doesn’t seem too upset by it.
My open ogling of this man is cut short when Lukas wraps his fingers
around my hair pulling it back slowly, exposing my neck and his mouth
moves closer to me. His tongue flicks across the sensitive skin underneath
my ear, his lips pressing a slow wet kiss, lightly sucking the skin and I feel
my body sag further into his as my eyes roll back into my head until it’s
resting against his chest. I think I feel a rumble coming from him but then
he speaks into my ear again.
“Do you like what you see?” he asks, his voice low and thunderous.
“Because that’s all you’ll be doing, sweetheart. Watching. Do you want to
know why?” He spins me around so our eyes are locked on one another in a
battle of lust and heat that would scorch me alive if I let it. I kind of want it
to.
“Why is that, Lukas?” I ask, still feeling risky and brave. I lift my head
as I speak, eyes still staring deep into his intense, almost black orbs, our lips
only a breath away from the other. One of his hands wraps around my waist
at the same time the other winds around the back of my neck in a tight and
demanding grip.
“Because you’re off limits. To everyone but me.” Lukas doesn’t kiss
me but watches my reaction and all of a sudden something occurs to me.
Why me? Why am I off limits to everyone except for him? It doesn’t make
any sense in my sober logic or my drunk logic. What an oxymoron.
“Why?” I voice my inner thoughts to him. He looks confused as I take
a step back, but I press the question. “Why me, Lukas? What could possibly
be so special about me?” I ask folding my arms across my chest waiting for
him to speak up, but he just glares at me, looking over my head to his friend
who’s still with Mel, silently communicating something.
He looks back down at me and growls.
“You have no idea.”
Before I know it, he’s grabbing my arm and pulling me toward the
exit. I dig my feet into the dancefloor as much as I possibly can, protesting
his manhandling of me and abandoning my best friend without a word.
Yeah right, dick.
“What are you doing?!” I yell at him pulling back, which does nothing
because up against him, I have the strength of a tiny bird.

133. “We are leaving,” he says through his teeth looking back at me.
“I’m not just going to leave Mel with some random guy in a club!” I
scream at him again, trying to resist his body which is still pulling mine. A
useless attempt once again.
“He’s with me. She’ll be fine. Nate will take her home,” Lukas assures
me, his face a little irritated and impatient now. Good, maybe he should let
me the fuck go and find someone else to play with.
“How do I know that? How can I trust you?” I ask as we reach the exit
and the cold air smacks me in the face, hard. He swings my body around to
his, his face an inch away from mine and says, “You can’t. Now get in the
car, we’re going home, and since you can’t seem to follow rules, I’m in a
bit of a mood.”
Taking powerful strides to a ridiculously expensive looking car I
haven’t seen before, he opens the door and gets in. I strongly consider
running back inside to Mel and hiding in the ladies’ bathroom, but
something tells me that wouldn’t stop him from coming in, he wouldn’t
give a shit. It’s as if he reads my mind because the next moment his
window is down, and he warns me.
“Don’t even think about it, Emilia.”
Damn it! I get in the car taking out my phone to text Mel and
apologize, explaining the situation and that I will pretty much be her bitch
for a month solid. She replies after a few long minutes, insisting that she’s
ok and jokes that I already am her bitch. God, I love her. She’s literally the
best.
The city flies past us in a blur, Lukas is literally driving so fast I can’t
see where we’re going, or maybe I drank too much, both options are very
valid right now. I look over to Lukas and his knuckles are white as he grips
the wheel tightly, like something is bothering him and that’s when I notice
my dress has ridden all the way up to the tops of my thighs, my legs on full
display. He swallows loudly, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. It
makes my mouth water and I’m not sure why; it’s just something about him
in all of his dominant masculinity. He is heaven and hell combined.
I choose this moment to take him in, even though I know he knows
I’m staring at him. Lukas is wearing slim fitted black jeans, slightly ripped
at the knees, black lace up military boots which are hot as fuck. On his top
he wears a fitted black t-shirt that stretches across his pecs so deliciously I
wish I was his shirt right now. What I would give to crawl up under there.

134. He’s in all black, but the way it makes his piercing oceanic eyes pop is
mouth-watering and mesmerizing all at once.
“When you’re done eye fucking me you can go inside. We’re here.”
He scoffs at me as he gets out and slams the door shut.
I follow him into the house quietly, sensing that he’s pissed at me, but
I’m pissed too. He ruined my night and made me break the biggest rule Mel
and I have when it comes to going out to the clubs or bars. He made me
leave her. She can handle herself and sure, she wasn’t completely alone; but
I don’t know this guy, he could be a freaking psychopath for all I know. He
was super-hot, but this could be another Ted Bundy case just waiting to
happen. Although he was way better looking than Ted Bundy, but still.
Now that I think about it, he kind of looked familiar but in a weird
way, like I know with certainty I haven’t met him before. I wouldn’t have
forgotten that face, I’m positive of that. Weird.
I follow Lukas into a room I haven’t been in before. It kind of looks
like a living room but one that no one ever uses. Everything is too clean and
polished, even the sofas look like they wouldn’t be comfortable to sit on. I
like sitting on a sofa that hugs you, almost until you disappear into it. This
is not one of those sofas. It looks like torture for your ass, like sitting on a
slab of concrete.
Lukas walks over to me with a large glass of water, who the hell
knows where he got that from, but I take it anyway gulping down the
contents—the cold liquid almost making me moan in delight. I didn’t
realize how badly I needed that.
“Thanks,” I say, hoping to break the ice a little. Lukas’s expression is
still dark, and he looks a little dangerous but it’s the alluring kind. He takes
a deep breath.
“You know… I found something out today,” he says, sparking my
interest. I mean, we haven’t properly discussed our plan for looking for
Lexi, but this potential information sobers me up, and fast.
“Did you find out something about Alexis?” I ask, my voice a little
desperate.
“No…” He pauses. “It was something I discovered about myself. And
I thought that maybe you would be able to benefit from it too. But since you
don’t like to follow my rules, I’m not feeling very generous.” He frowns,
his fingers playing on his lips as he looks like he is pondering something.

135. “What rules—” He cuts me off. “And the problem with that, is that I
can’t quite decide which part I like more, you doing as you are told,
submitting. Or you breaking the rules.” He takes a step closer to me with a
hungry look in his eyes. I stay quiet as he approaches me, our toes touching
through our shoes.
“The question, Emilia, is how are you feeling now? Obedient? Or
rebellious?” The dark flirtatious gaze zeroed in on me is captivating and I
can’t look away. It’s like I’m under his spell, hypnotized. I desperately want
to answer—say something rebellious but there is no way I wouldn’t do as
he said right now. That’s the truth and it is what it is.
My breathing is audible, and I can hear my heartbeat in my ears when
he speaks again, his lips close to my ear.
“Are you going to do as you are told?” he whispers, and I nod without
realizing. I swear he almost purrs when he says, “Good girl. Now go sit
down.”
“What I found out today changes everything for me, and it’s a damn
shame I can’t tell you. But I can show you.” Lukas slowly walks over to me
where I’m perched on the edge of the sofa (I was wrong by the way, it’s
surprisingly comfy). When he’s in front of me, I look up at him through my
lashes, and I have never been more sober and alert in my life. Fire burns
through my veins, but the tequila is long gone.
Lukas lowers himself down until he’s on both knees in front of me. His
eyes level with mine, drunk on lust when he whispers, “I really need you to
follow the rules right now” I’m frozen, unable to speak so I just nod again,
as it’s the only thing my body will allow me to do.
“Lift your dress up to your waist.” As Lukas tells me to lift up my
dress, he’s taking off my shoes one by one, his finger on the inside of my
ankle stroking in soft circles. He has no idea how much of a big deal this is
to me, and my heart races in anticipation of what he wants to do, but also a
little in fear. Even though we can’t seem to keep our hands off each other, I
am a virgin, and he has no idea. But I still obey him.
I lift myself up to pull the fabric up over my hips until it’s bunched up
at my waist, leaving me sitting there in my black lace thong. I think I know
where this is leading by the look in his eyes, like he wants to devour me as
he looks down to the apex of my thighs, licking his lips slowly.
“Take them off,” he almost groans. I hesitate a little and his eyes snap
to mine, a smirk on his face

136. “Unless you want me to take them off… you know how much I would
love to add these to my little collection.” He laughs seductively and I know
he’s referring to the thong he ripped off me, that I haven’t seen again. He
has it. I can’t decide if that’s what makes me even wetter or the fact that his
fingers are lightly travelling up the insides of my legs. I raise my hips
looking down at him waiting, hoping he’ll help me out. He grins as he
continues up my thighs, out to my hips gripping the delicate lace between
his fingers and slowly moving it down my legs so I’m completely exposed
in front of him.
My pulse is erratic now as I watch him, waiting for his next command
that I know my inexperienced body will follow, not because I’m drunk on
him but because I want to.
“Lean back and spread your legs open for me. I want to taste you,
baby.” His pupils are blown, and I can see his chest moving rapidly. Maybe
he isn’t as calm and collected as he seems.
I almost back down at that moment, tell him no and get up and leave.
But underneath the nerves and the unknown is the burning desire to stay, to
feel his tongue on me. God knows I’ve thought of it plenty of times before,
but now it’s real. And I could not want it more.
Slowly, I open my knees first, his eyes on mine looking like he might
snap and consume his prey: me.
I open my thighs, spreading them as far as I can when he looks down
between my legs, swallowing before he speaks, “You’re so fucking perfect,
Emilia.”
His tongue licks up the inside of my thigh and has me moaning, my
head thrown back against the sofa. I gasp as he bites lightly on the flesh of
my thigh, causing a surge of heat to flow straight between my legs. My
body is still singing from the sensation of his tongue and teeth, still
adjusting when—
“Ohmyfuckinggod!” I scream when his mouth licks up my pussy,
closing over my clit and sucking. My hips buck, moving further into his
face making him moan, adding even more vibration to my clit, which he is
still sucking between his teeth. No one has ever touched me like this before
and I’m sensitive as fuck. Only I want more. He takes advantage of the
position as my hips are lifted, pushing my pussy into his mouth. His hands
come underneath me, so he’s holding me up, grabbing my ass and hips,
keeping me in place against his face and he continues his onslaught of

137. pleasure. My fists clenching and unclenching at my sides, need something
to grab onto, I find his hair and wrap my fingers around it at the roots,
fighting a battle of pushing him further into me and pulling him back
because it’s too much.
His tongue leaves my clit to throb as it traces around the rest of my
pussy, my nerve endings on fire. Lukas tastes every inch of me, not a single
spot left untouched by his mouth. Our moans fill the silence; I’m panting
like a cat in heat and his low grunts and growls are muffled because his
mouth is full of me. I gasp when his thumb starts to rub gentle circles over
my clit and his tongue moves lower; he flicks and pushes his tongue
forward at the same time until it’s inside of me sparking sensations I never
knew could be ignited this way.
It’s overwhelming, his thumb on my clit and his tongue inside of me,
and I can feel the building of pressure in my belly. It’s like a fire is igniting
and the flames just keep getting hotter. Suddenly his tongue is no longer
inside of me but back on my clit, his lips tight forming suction, and the tip
of his tongue darts out flicking it until I can’t see. I am getting higher and
higher to reaching the inferno and bursting into euphoric flames. I can feel
it. I’m going to come so hard.
But I don’t.
There’s a little popping sound, then his mouth nor his hands are no
longer on my body. He leans back on his heels, still kneeling, his face
flushed, lips shining with me spread all over them. His eyes are wild like he
is desperately trying to control a beast that’s seconds away from breaking
out of the cage and mauling anything or anyone in its path.
Still panting trying to catch my breath and also attempting not to kill
him because what the fuck!
His eyes snap to mine and I realize I said that out loud. Good!
“What the fuck!” I say again, louder this time so that he definitely
hears me.
He’s still a little breathless too but manages his signature smirk with a
gleam in his eye, and says,
“Maybe you’ll think twice next time you want to break my rules.”
He gets up, standing and readjusts himself because he is currently
sporting the biggest hard-on I have ever seen in my life.
Lukas turns to leave but just before he does, he looks at me once again,
his face a mask of indifference now.

138. “I told you, I’m not in a generous mood. That was all for me.” He
laughs and leaves the room, and my jaw hits the fucking floor.
I don’t know whether to feel humiliated, exhilarated, embarrassed or
murderous. I settle on enraged. I know he’s an asshole, but denying a
woman an orgasm, albeit her first orgasm from having someone eat her out,
is downright brutal and cruel. Not that he knew—but it’s just common
courtesy.

139. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Lukas
Two Weeks later...
Two weeks have passed since I almost made Emilia come on my tongue,
and to say I regretted refusing her her orgasm is the biggest understatement
of the century, but I was proving a point.

140. Earlier that morning I had a lead come through about Alexis (Yes, I
lied—again.) I told her that I’d discovered something and when she’d asked
if it was about her dear sister, I said no, that it was something I had
discovered about myself. Which was in-part true I suppose, but it was
absolutely about Alexis.
Alexis and the little lies she weaves. Had I known she would cause
such a disruption to my life, my family and my sanity, I would never have
laid my eyes on her. That would have been pretty hard for a horny eighteen-
year-old teenager like myself at the time, who really wanted to get his dick
continuously wet, which I did. In fact, my dick would be lucky if it was dry
for a forty-eight-hour period.
Alexis and I were in the same classes at school, and it was as cliché as
you could get, we were both popular at school—her more so than me—but
that was due to the fact that she liked to fuck around with every single
athlete in the school and flaunt it, and not subtly either. I, on the other hand,
was a little more discreet, because I had to be. With a family like mine I had
no other option.
I remember one time before anything had happened between her and I,
a faculty member had caught her fucking some dick behind the bike shed.
She was then caught sucking off that same faculty member not only fifteen
minutes later. The girl had a reputation. Before everything happened with
Elijah, I’d thought she was alright. My dick enjoyed her somewhat, if you
enjoy being wanked off under the science lab desk at the same time the
teacher is asking you what equation represents "the photoelectric effect." I
still got the answer right though, so I guess I wasn’t that distracted by her
hand wrapped around my cock.
My little game of truth or dare put me through a loop. Emilia’s truth
made me question everything. I thought she was just like her sister, a liar
and so much more, but every part of me fought through the guilt, telling me
I was wrong. I have a suspicion, and for now it’s just that, and until I
uncover the truth, that’s all it will remain.
I spent a lot of time, a lot of energy and money over the past couple of
weeks looking for more information on Alexis, and to say it paid off, is an
understatement.
Turns out that no matter how far you think you might have people
under your thumb, and in your pocket, there is usually some other asshole
with his fingers in the honey jar a little deeper. The knowledge majorly

141. fucked me off, but I had time to get it out of my system. I took it out on my
punching bag and a couple of faces with names that I have no interest of
knowing.
With a little violence and threats, I managed to blackmail a name out
of Inspector Monroe, whose wife really wouldn’t want to find out that her
husband is fucking his deputy chief officer. Or that her husband of thirty-
three years is in fact very gay. A low blow and not my usual style, minus
the violence and threats, but it is what it is. Someone has information and
they’re trying to keep it hidden. That’s not an option.
The name I was given was a man named Andrew Caper. Instantly I
knew exactly who he was. Andrew knew my father back when his
worthless ass still inhabited a beating heart—not that kind of heart, the only
thing it did was pump blood around his futile body. The man was incapable
of feeling anything except for the sick joy he took knowing he could crush
anything meaningful in the palm of his hands without thinking twice. Crush
the heart, soul and spirit of his sons when he watched the woman who
raised them—loved them—reaching out for his help as his wife, our mother,
was beaten and raped by his herd of drunken mobsters right in front of our
eyes. Right before he walked away and let them mercilessly take her life.
Andrew knew my father well. He’d been very well acquainted with
him a long time before my father was dead. He was like my father—a very
powerful man. But not as powerful as me.
It seems that Andrew has something to hide and for some reason that
includes him paying off Inspector Monroe an obscene amount of money.
Turns out he’s paying them more to keep their mouths shut, than I am
paying to keep their mouths open and talking.
Now that I have his name and know what he has been up to, leads me
closer to the most important part of all of this, the why.
What could he possibly want to keep hidden away and why does it
have anything to do with Alexis Blake? That’s the multi-million-dollar
question—quite literally.

142. CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Emilia
Two weeks have passed since I almost came on Lukas’s tongue and I can’t
seem to think about anything fucking else and it’s driving me insane. That’s
a lie, I have been able to think about some other things, like finding my
sister. Apart from the radio silence between Lukas and I, I have been doing
some research of my own, I’ve had to. Even after Lukas’s proposition about
us working together to find out more about Alexis’s case, he has barely said

143. one word to me in the entire two weeks. It doesn’t bother me too much
though; I’ve been investigating on my own since she went missing, but it is
frustrating when it was his idea.
Looking back at the notes page I have saved in my phone, I go over all
of the information that I know so far, that I’ve combed through more than a
thousand times. But what’s another thousand in the grand scheme of things
when it comes to your own sister’s life?
The information I have briefly states the date that Lexi went missing,
all of her information, her date of birth, location, address, the logistics. All
of this stuff I know by heart. Then comes her whereabouts before she went
missing, any calls or texts—which were none apparently—which doesn’t
make a lot of sense, my sister was one the most popular girls at our high
school—not in the best way, but still her phone was constantly beeping and
buzzing with notification and texts. So sue if me if I think that is one
hundred percent bullshit.
I had desperately tried to contact and speak with a number of her
"friends" in the months that passed after she went missing, and apart from a
few apologies about not really knowing anything, I came up empty. The
world frustrating doesn’t even cut it. Someone has to know something!
They just have to. There were so many times where it all became too much
for me; I cried until my throat hurt, my voice gone, and my eyes had no
tears left to shed. The pain of being left with nothing, no closure, no
answers was too much.
Then a day later I would pick myself up and start all over again,
because there was no other option, I had to keep going and be strong.
I throw my phone down on my bed, lying back into the pillows
burying my head, huffing out a breath of frustration. There is still nothing
new. No new leads for me to follow. Just like a few months ago I called up
the police department, asking again if there had been any updates. I was
told no, and when I asked if they could send me the reports or anything that
could help me, they said that would go against confidentiality.
Seriously? What the fuck! I am her fucking sister, fuck confidentiality!
I believe I said something of a similar effect to the police officer on the
phone, to which she responded by hanging up on me.
My mind trails off and I wonder what is with the silent treatment from
Lukas. I get up to go and ask just that but as I throw my door open and step

144. out, I collide with a thick block of muscle. The force nearly lands me on the
floor, but a strong arm grips mine to keep me upright.
“Shit, sorry,” I say. Lukas says nothing as I steady myself and look up
at him. I roll my eyes at his continued silence. Seriously?
“Okay, I’ll start.” My voice is laced with a heavy dose of sarcasm. My
eyes narrow, done with his bullshit.
“Where the fuck have you been and what happened to working
together to find Lexi? Which, by the way, was your idea!” I poke my finger
into his chest as I scowl at him.
Lukas’s eyes are still on the area I had just pressed my finger into on
his chest, a frown causing creases between his brows. His expression
unphased as he lifts his head looking down at me from his full height.
“Some of us have to work, Emilia, and I think you’ll be very pleased
with my efforts in finding your sister. Come downstairs to my office and
we’ll discuss it further.” He speaks. Finally.
Lukas’s little dig at me doesn’t go unnoticed, or maybe I’m being
overly sensitive, but it irritates me. The fact that I’m living off of him and
his money, when the truth is that I can’t work because he won’t allow it. We
both know this, but yet the way he said it pisses me off. I shake it off and
focus. He found something. Fuck waiting, I want to know now.
“Just tell me now if you’ve found something, please,” I reply, getting
more impatient by the second.
“If you’re sure.” There is a question in his voice to which I nod
slightly.
I can feel my palms sweating and my heartbeat spiking a little, waiting
for what he is going to say, bracing myself because he has found something.
After the endless days and months I’ve spent searching till I bled and cried
out all of the tears in my body desperately seeking answers, seeking
anything, he’s found something.
Is he going to crack my heart into a million pieces and destroy what is
left of me?
Or is he going to instill the hope I had given up on so long ago?
I swallow, raising my head so I’m looking straight up into those blues.
“Tell me,” I say, waiting for the blow. I must have decided his gaze is
too intense when I find myself watching his chest, counting the number of
breaths he takes before he speaks.
One.

145. Two.
Three.
Four…
“She’s alive.”

146. CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Lukas
A gut-wrenching sob breaks through the silence as her body falls to the
floor. Emilia shakes with cries, absorbing what I had said.
Her sister is alive. The girl who killed my brother is alive.
A part of me aches to go to her, to lift her up and hold her in my arms.
But I don’t. Any hate I had felt towards her evaporates, watching her
broken on the floor. She needs this moment, time to herself—to realize I am

147. not her hero. She doesn’t really need me; she’s been fighting all her life and
it made her into the strong woman she is.
It is in that moment, amidst the constant war inside of my head over
who Emilia Blake really is, that I accept this for what it is. I’m in a
continuous battle with myself, over why I hate her and why I’m falling in
love with her.
Emilia has just found out that her sister, who has been missing for the
past two years, is alive and well; very well in fact, but I haven’t told her
that. She doesn’t need to know just yet, and to be honest, I think it might
destroy her if she knew that this whole time she’s been desperate for her
sister to come home, to be her family, Alexis has been only a four-hour
drive away, living in one of the most upscale privileged areas, in a gated
community called Emerald Hills.
Alexis has access to all the technology available to the queen of
fucking England but didn’t bother once to let her own sister know she was
safe and alive. That’s the girl I remembered, and if for a second I show any
sympathy or remorse for what is to come, her actions rectified that right
away. Alexis Blake is alive and well.
Alexis Blake is a selfish fucking bitch.
Alexis Blake is going to pay for her sins.
There’s still so much she doesn’t know, so much I can’t tell her.
Selfishly, I know if she knew, it would break her and then she would leave.
She wouldn’t help me, and I need her. Her knowledge is my power and she
still has no idea.
Bending down, I scoop her up into my arms and place her down gently
on the bed. The sobbing has started to fade now, as she calms down and
catches her breath. I go to move away and give her some privacy but her
soft hand clutches onto my arm making me stop half-way up from the bed.
“Wait, how did you…” She croaks and shakes her head as if she’s
telling herself that it doesn’t matter how.
“Do you know where she is?” she asks, her voice cracking and still full
of emotion, like her tear-stained cheeks.
Subconsciously, my fingers stroke across her cheek, wiping away the
wet tears traveling slowly down her face. Her skin’s like silk, my body not
wanting to leave hers.

148. This fragile side of her stirs something in me and brings me back to
that first night. Maybe it’s my own fragility, but it can’t be because there’s
nothing fragile left inside of me, only my patience which constantly runs on
a fine line waiting to overbalance, tip off the scale and smash into pieces.
Her grip around my arm loosens but doesn’t drop completely, and as I
reluctantly move my fingers away from her porcelain skin, she watches me
still waiting for me to tell her.
Questions, problems, solutions and consequences overwhelm my
head as I think about what I’m going to do, until I settled on my answer. I
will give this to her, and in the end, she won’t thank me for it. She will most
definitely hate me for it.
And it will still be worth it in the end.
I rise from the bed still looking at her emotionally exhausted
expression, her gaze glued to mine.
“Pack your bags and be ready to leave at eight tomorrow morning.
We’re going on a road trip,” I tell her blankly and leave the room.
I need to hit something. All this pent-up energy inside of me, these
feelings just waiting to tear themselves out of my body one way or another.
I’d usually either fight it out, box it out or fuck it out. But my dick doesn’t
seem to want to fuck it out. I have no interest in the string of women who
make no subtle efforts to show me they want to bounce on my dick, and I
can’t even get hard watching porn anymore. Boxing it out is my only
answer for tonight.
This fucking girl has broken me.
I tape up my wrists after throwing my gloves on and turn on my
playlist. Breaking Benjamin is my favorite to hit to; they have a lot of anger
and rage inside their sound, just like I do.
I crank up the volume to the max and start pounding the bag until my
burdens become my target, pulverized under the force of my fists.

149. ◆◆◆
Emilia
She’s alive. She’s alive. She’s alive.
She’s alive.
She is alive.
The room still spins, as my mind tries to catch up with the tornado
that’s spinning around me. I’m in the eye of the storm but I feel like I am
one step away from being tossed into the funnel of destruction.
I focus on my breathing as I think over what Lukas said, which wasn’t
much, but it was more than enough.
Alexis is alive. That’s all I know, and I am praying she’s somewhere
safe and hasn’t been living in the same hell as I have, or worse. The thought
threatens bile to rise up my throat. I swallow it back down and think.
Lukas said to pack my bags. Has he found her? I mean it’s very
possible. If he discovered that she’s alive it would make sense that he has an
idea of where she is. Am I going to be seeing my sister for the first time in
two years in the next twenty-four hours?
The thought makes my body stiff with apprehension and anxiety.
Will she be happy to see me?
Will she know how hard I searched for her, every day and every
night?
How my body and my heart took a beating every moment I couldn’t
count on her being alive or safe.
Will she remember the way she treated me before she went missing?
Will she regret it?
Guilt eats me up, even thinking that. Here I am in a fucking mansion,
safe, clean, warm and taken care of. When Alexis hasn’t known any of
these things for such a long time. How selfish of me to even be thinking of
myself right now.
There’s no way I’ll be able to sleep tonight, not now. I plod over to the
closet finding a large rucksack in a drawer next to the shelves, lined with

150. shoes and start throwing clothes into it. Jeans, t-shirts, hoodies and
underwear. I doubt I’ll need anything else.
When I’m all done packing, I pull my hoodie around my waist as I step
out onto the balcony and suck in a deep lungful of air.
The moon is high, the light dancing off the darkness of the ocean. The
sea fascinates me—the way that it reflects what’s on the surface with such
ease, like the blues and greys of the day and the black of the night. But
beneath the surface there’s so much more depth, so many secrets hidden
beneath the deceptive, pretty surface.

151. CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Lukas
I finish loading up the car with enough ammo to take out a small mafia
gang. I’m always prepared when I’m walking into an unknown situation. I
am always prepared, period.
Emilia appears at the front door with her bag in hand, ready to go.
“We shouldn’t be gone long. Did you pack enough clothes just in
case?” I ask as I round the car, taking her bag and closing the trunk.

152. “Yeah, I have enough. So, where are we actually going?” she questions
me. I don’t answer because I’m still trying to decide if this is a good idea or
not. Most definitely not—but we’re in too deep now, so might as well face
the fucking music.
I get in the car, waiting for her to take the hint that she isn’t getting an
answer and to hurry the fuck up.
The wait isn’t long before she sits her fine ass down, making the car
shake the tiniest bit from the force of her throwing her body onto the seat. I
snigger because she’s cute when she’s pissed off. I really enjoy it and I can’t
fucking wait when she discovers what her little nickname I came up with
means. I call her "Kiska" because she reminds me of a pussycat. Soft,
playful, and feisty. The word means pussycat in Russian but it’s also
shortened to pussy—and I fucking love her pussy.
When she’s belted in, my foot hits the gas and we speed out of the iron
gates, adrenaline pumping through my body like I’m about to fight. I’m not
entirely sure what waits for us at the other side of our little road trip, but my
imagination is forming some pretty vivid pictures of all sorts of scenarios
going down. None of them likely to be even close to the reality, but the
need for a fight makes me imaginative, so sue me.
I’m feeling antsy and still have three hours and forty-five minutes to
go. I crank up the radio and hope it settles my mood.
We drive in silence pretty much the whole way. Emilia falls asleep
after about an hour and a half, leaving me and my thoughts alone.
I have no idea how this is going to play out, but I do know that
everything is going to change after this.
Emilia is about to be hit by a freight train, metaphorically obviously;
but like I’ve known from the beginning, her strength is one of her biggest
attributes, and she’s going to fucking need it.

153. Emilia
Something is poking me in the arm, then it starts to shake me a little.
Feeling groggy, I open my eyes, blinking them into focus as I go to turn my
head to see what’s disturbing me so persistently. Ouch! Holy crap. My neck
is killing me. I must have stayed in one position for the whole drive here,
wherever here is. My hand moves to rub the muscles and knots in the back
of my neck, as I turn to find Lukas in the driver’s seat watching me.
“Sleep well, princess?” he mocks as I begin to take in my
surroundings, looking out of the passenger side.
It looks like we’ve entered some Stepford, creepy, way-too-perfect
neighborhood.
Is that hedge trimmed to look like a bloomed rose? Seriously. Who
has the fucking time or the patience for that shit? We are parked up on the
side of a street with a row of enormous houses. Lukas’s mansion can easily
be rivalled in size by these overly primmed monstrosities. Unlike Lukas’s
home though, these look like the freaking White House and similar clones
of the same running down the street until I can’t see anymore.
Once my brain is functioning to the best of its ability, I look to Lukas
again.
“Where are we?” I pause as I turn my head back, looking through the
rear-view window and seeing a giant iron gate closed about one-hundred-
and-fifty yards away. There’s a sign next to it that says Emerald Hills
Private Estate.
“Wait, is this a gated community? How the hell did you even get in
here?” I ask him. His eyes are squinted as he frowns a little when he speaks.
“I don’t particularly give a shit, but at the risk of sounding like the
asshole that I am… do you still really not know who I am?” He answers my
question with one of his own which confuses me.
“Uhh… should I? Just because you’re a rich asshole doesn’t mean that
I should automatically know who you are. So, fucking pretentious.” I scold
him for being such a conceited prick.
He just laughs in response, fucking laughs.
A few moments after, Lukas clears his throat and takes a deep breath,
like he’s psyching himself up for something, drawing my gaze to his mouth
when his lips start to move.
“Emilia, I need to tell you something—”

154. He’s cut off by a loud, high pitched feminine laugh, that echoes
through the quiet of the street. My gaze shifts to the source of the noise.
There’s a girl across the street squealing as some guy comes up behind her
swinging her around, lifting her up by the hips and kissing her on the
mouth. Her long, blonde hair swishes with the motion and the slight breeze
as she’s lowered back to the ground.
I shift my focus back to Lukas and he is stoic. He looks like he has
turned to ice. Every single limb, muscle and tendon in his body is pulled
tight, his face like stone—cold, hard and emotionless.
What the hell happened to him in the time it took for me to—
Wait.
I feel the blood drain out of my face slowly moving down my body
until I feel light and dizzy. I’m on my feet, walking across the street before I
even know what I am doing. The only sound is my heartbeat in my ears as I
step closer.
My eyes scan down her body as I move slowly forward, closer to
them. The girl is well dressed in a pink, tight fitted, long sleeved sweater
with the word Chanel printed across the center and she’s wearing a white
pleated tennis skirt that stops just beneath her ass. Still in the arms of the
guy, giggling as he grabs her ass. I stop when I’m only a few feet away. I
stand there, still as a statue watching them. They’re the embodiment of
wealth; their appearance oozes money and they look like the perfect
Stepford couple, not a care in the world.
“Alexis?” a small voice asks, and I realize the word left my mouth a
split second before her head snaps in my direction. Her eyes widen for a
second before she composes herself and breaks away from her boyfriend.
“Um, that’s not my name, my name is Alessia.” She laughs, frowning
while she looks at her boyfriend, her face scrunched up as if they should
pity me. I’m dumbfounded. Does she think I’m an idiot? That I wouldn’t
recognize my own sister! My heart is pinballing around in my chest
violently, as I stare at her.
Everything feels as though it’s happening in slow motion, that is until
she speaks again.
“What the fuck are you staring at, tramp? Leave.” She sneers at me,
and something inside of me snaps. I feel pure rage bubbling up inside,

155. taking over my body.
My fist rears back and smacks her right in the face making her head
snap back. The pain radiates up my arm, but it’s nothing compared to the
feeling of the metaphorical knife that has been plunged into my chest.
In the next second, strong arms are around my waist pulling me back
and I can’t help but feel a strange wave of relief when they brace around
me, pinning my back to this hard chest.
“What the fuck, Emilia?!” she shrieks, holding her nose as blood pours
out of it and drips down in between her fingers. The boyfriend, nowhere to
be seen.
“So, you do know who I fucking am, Alessia,” I scream at her, hissing
out her fake name. I want to hit her again. The adrenaline fills my veins
until it’s seeping out of my pores. They say that your brain often supresses
memories of trauma to protect yourself, but there is no fucking way I will
ever forget this. I want to remember this moment.
I toss myself around in Lukas’s arms trying to break free so I can get
to her, but his grip tightens. I growl at him, the fury having completely
possessed my body, still thrashing me around, wanting blood.
The sound of heels clicking against the sidewalk distracts me
momentarily, as a woman who’s equally as put together comes rushing over.
“Oh my God, honey! What happened?!” The woman squeals in horror
at Alexis. Sorry, Alessia.
“Mom, go back inside. I’m fine!” she mumbles through her blood-
soaked hands. The sight sends a sick thrill through me.
Wait a minute…
She said Mom.
But she couldn’t have meant…
My eyes connect with the face of the woman, with dark hair and
bright blue eyes, similar to my own. The woman who’s cradling Alexis on
the ground. Her eyes lock with mine, growing wider every second, the look
of shock written across her Botoxed features. Then—just like Alexis—she
composes herself and a mask of coldness wipes it all away.
I stare at the woman, as I’m frozen in Lukas’s arms, hard as granite.
The woman who raised me, the woman who abandoned me after my sister

156. disappeared. I watch as she affectionately holds my sister, my sister who
left me and didn’t bother, or care enough to let me know she wasn’t dead.
They left me, a young and vulnerable girl, with Robert, an abusive
alcoholic. They left by choice. On purpose.
I can’t breathe.
The air growing thicker by the second as my mind tries to catch up,
but it can’t move that fast. Even though it knows what’s happening—it’s too
much. My throat closes up and I’m gasping for air. Lukas loosens his grip,
tilting my face up to his, over my shoulder. His face is torn with concern
and a deadly look of anger flickering in his eyes.
Just when I think I can regain my breath as I stare into his eyes, Alexis
speaks.
“Lukas, baby is that you?”
And everything goes black.

157. CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Lukas
Moments Earlier…
Squeezing the steering wheel until my knuckles turn white, I clear my
throat and fill up my lungs with air. This is it.
I have to tell her where we are and who is here. I’ve put it off long
enough and admittedly, I’m not ready for everything to change between us.

158. Even though I know it’s inevitable, I don’t want her to hate me.
There’s a hell of a lot of people in the dark world I know, who hate
me with a passion. I couldn’t give a single shit about them, but the thought
of this one girl hating me, makes me feel regret, which is an emotion I’ve
never experienced before.
I’ve taken many lives in my life, and I don’t regret a single one of
those moments where I’ve held a person’s soul, their precious human heart
in the palm of my hand and crushed it to dust. I would do it a thousand
times over just to get out of having to see Emilia in pain—if it was caused
by anyone else but me. I’m a masochist and a hypocrite.
She’s going to find out sooner or later.
“Emilia, I need to tell you something—” A loud, sickly sweet and
familiar laugh captures her attention, and my eyes follow hers. Fuck.
My body turns solid as stone when I see her. She looks the same as she
always did, a pretentious, pretty little bitch. Poor fucker holding onto her
poisonous body. He probably knows jack shit about her—the real her. The
fake, rotting soul that she hides behind pounds of makeup and designer
clothes.
Emilia worships the ground she walks on, or she did, because that’s
definitely going to change. And me being the sick motherfucker I am, I’m
going to enjoy every single moment of it.
Underneath it all, Emilia is a little firecracker and that’s when I notice
that she is no longer sitting next to me. She’s a few steps away from her
sister.
I see it all happen in glorious slow motion, as Emilia fucking punches
her straight in the nose. I almost laugh, but I’m out of the car in that instant,
grabbing Emilia and plastering her to my chest. As beautiful as that was to
watch, this isn’t about me. It’s about her. But karma is a satisfying bitch.
Alexis is screaming at Emilia, holding her undoubtably broken nose,
blood dripping down onto the path. The girl can hit.
I say nothing as the girls yell at each other, just hold Emilia close to
my body who clearly wants another crack at Alexis. She throws her body
around trying to get out of my grasp.
To top it all off, another woman joins us, fussing over her daughter,
their mother. Another selfish, self-righteous bitch.
I can tell Emilia has connected the dots as her body stiffens, going still
in my arms. I grab her chin and turn her face to mine, slowly breathing in

159. and out hoping she will mimic my breaths because she is not fucking
breathing. It starts working and her beautiful blue eyes are lost in mine.
The moment is charred to ash in an instant when Alexis speaks.
“Lukas, baby is that you?”
◆◆◆
Emilia’s eyes roll back into her head, her face pale as her body drops
to a deadweight in my arms. She blacked out. Fuck!
I’m fighting the most monumental, internal battle right now. I need to
get Emilia back to the car, safe.
I want to fucking destroy Alexis for causing this, but at the same
time, this is all my doing.
I used Emilia so I could get to Alexis. Ideally, this will go the easy
way, Alexis will talk to me willingly. Although, at this point I’m through
giving any fucks. I’ve kidnapped once—actually many times before—I’ll
do it again.
Except this time, it won’t be the devil they know, because no fucker
has met this beast.
For now, though, I’ll play nice.
I lift Emilia into my arms, composing my rage and keeping it on
simmer.
Placing her in my truck, I turn to Alexis. My metaphorical mask in
place.
“Like you could forget.” I smirk, turning my charm on and making her
think she still has some kind of effect on me, which she never had to begin
with. It’s the only way to play with her. Let her think she’s winning the fight
for a little while, then strike back hard and win the fucking war.
Her mother had run inside while I put Emilia in the car, good fucking
riddance. I watch Alexis as she tries to look sexy standing there, tilting her
hips and pushing her tits out while the bitch still has blood pouring out of
her face. If she thinks this is working for me, then she’s right, but
unfortunately for her it isn’t working in the way she’s hoping it is.
I am rather enjoying the sight of her covered in blood and the fact that
she’ll probably have to pay for another nose job, but that’s as far as the
enjoyment goes.

160. “What are you doing here, baby?” Alexis sways her hips as she moves
closer, trying to wipe the blood away with her shirt, and the back of her
bloodied hand.
The beast inside growls at the sound of her calling me baby, and it
makes we want to sever her vocal cords. There’s only one girl I want calling
me ‘baby’ and she’s passed out in the back seat. Alexis’s face turns up into
a snooty scowl as she continues.
“And why are you with her?” She says it with such utter disgust, like
Emilia isn’t her little sister, the girl she grew up with and cared about, even
if only for a brief moment.
Interesting. Very interesting.
I try a different tactic and tell her the truth. I want to see if there really
is no shred of humanity left in this girl.
“Heard her screams as I went passed the house. He tried to drown her
in the bathtub.” I tell her vacantly, my eyes searching for any signs of
remorse or pain for what Emilia went through. Nada.
“She was probably asking for it, she never could do much right,” she
says with a nasty bite in her tone. It takes everything in me to stay rooted to
my spot and not wrap my hand around her throat and squeeze—and not in
the way I like to do it in the bedroom—the way I like to squeeze when I end
lives, feeling the desperate pulsating of the neck, as it fights for one last hit
of oxygen. The satisfaction when that breath is denied.
I don’t answer, not trusting that my patience won’t snap—shortly
followed by her neck.
“You wanna come back to the Bay with me?” I ask, turning on the
charm, seduction and proposition in my voice.
Alexis frowns, looking skeptical for a second. I step into her space and
run my fingers on the bare skin of her thigh, just underneath the hem of her
miniskirt. I hear a whimper as my finger rubs her skin and I say with a
seductive smirk, “We can break into Penderal High and revisit those labs…
I know how much you liked it under the desks.” She giggles what she
thinks is a sexy laugh, and I know I’ve won.
I stride back to the car after telling her I’ll meet her back at Penderal
Bay tonight. Then Alexis disappears into the house, swaying her hips as if
she thinks she’s putting on a show for me. She’s not.

161. What the fuck have I done? I didn’t think this through, and I am
thoroughly reminded of that when I look in the back seat finding Emilia still
there, her eyes closed looking like a fucking angel. I check her breathing
and her pulse is strong—thank fuck.
She’s going to wake up soon and I have to get her back now.
Strapping her in the best I can, I jump in behind the wheel and step on the
gas, the gates opening for me immediately. At least they know who I am.
Driving back to Penderal Bay I break at least five laws, not stopping
for anyone. I run through every red light and stop sign, cause I’m on a
fucking deadline. I would send a silent prayer up to God to do me a favor
and keep Emilia asleep until we are home—that is, if I was a religious man
—I’m not.
I don’t believe there is some grand puppeteer in the sky; I believe we
make our own destiny.
Some may argue it’s by some miracle, or that my prayers had been
answered, because I make it back home before Emilia has opened her eyes.
I would argue it’s because I broke every fucking rule on the road to get
here.
Shutting off the engine, I pick up Emilia’s body that no longer
resembles a deadweight. She’s able to lift her head up a little herself, her
strength regaining.
Once I make it up the stairs, I take a left instead of a right, carrying her
perfect, petite body into my bedroom for the second time. It feels like déjà
vu all over again.
I place her into my bed, covering her with a dark grey blanket I keep
thrown over the back of the lounger on the far side of my bedroom. The
way her dark hair fans out around her face is enchanting.
Irritation strokes underneath my skin. She’s making me think words
like enchanting, which is most definitely not in my vocabulary. I let it go
though, because it seems that when it comes to this gorgeous goddess, any
hate I’d felt toward her, that had scratched and clawed from underneath my
skin, has now dulled down to quite a pleasant caress. Even the beast inside
of me wants to bite her till it hurts, then kiss away the pain.
Her porcelain skin has started to gain some color, her cheeks now wear
a tempting shade of rose pink, which makes me want to stroke the fragile
skin where the blood is gently pooling beneath.

162. Emilia turns her head away from me in her slumber, exposing her neck,
which looks fucking deliciously edible. My hand twitches, begging to touch
her.
I step out onto my balcony as I mentally go over what I’m going to say
to her when she wakes up and will undeniably ask questions. I won’t be
lucky enough to get away with the silent treatment this time. I know I’m
going to have to talk, give her some truths, no matter how much I don’t
want to.
Then there’s the issue with Alexis, who I don’t doubt will be arriving
in the next twelve hours—if she is still as desperate as the girl I knew back
in high school. There is no doubt she is absolutely still that girl.
The guy she’d clung onto back at Emerald Hills told me everything
I’d already guessed. If she had meant anything to him at all, he wouldn’t
have fled like a fucking pussy. He would have stood up and fought for his
girl. He didn’t, which proves my theory that Alexis Blake is as much of the
promiscuous whore she was in high school.
Nothing has changed, and as soon as I showed the smallest bit of
interest, she came running, just as she did every time I wanted to get my
dick wet. Like I said, nothing has changed.
Hasn’t everything changed though?
It’s getting darker now, the blues and black of the night sky merging,
resembling a deep indigo bruise. The moon is full tonight, shimmering in
the reflection on the water.
Everything becomes easier at night, it’s when the demons come out to
play; it’s when I come out to play. I flourish in the darkness, like a flower
blooms in the light.
Emilia is different though, she resembles a rose. Beautiful, delicate and
soft between your fingertips, but much like a rose, Emilia has thorns. She
knows darkness, but I know it well too, and I’m well acquainted with the
way Emilia wraps herself up in her thorns, not allowing anyone to get close.
In my case, it’s more the thrill of the dare to get close, the temptation
of touching the thorns, letting them cut deep into my skin as I tear them
from her body, desperate to feel the silky-smooth center. And I will choose
dare, every time.
She’s going to ask how Alexis knows who I am.
She doesn’t know that Alexis is coming here.

163. There’s still so much that Emilia has no idea about when it comes to
her sister—her entire family, in fact.
I also have to keep Alexis sweet, so that I can pry information from
those toxic lips. Alexis cannot tell her, it will fuck everything up.
Everything I have worked to keep hidden.
I’m in such a goddamn fucking mess, and if one secret slips from
Alexis’s mouth then everything will come plummeting down like the
fucking domino effect.
I need to hit something. I move to make my way to the gym, I stop
though. Emilia is sitting in my bed, the blanket draped around her waist as
she stares down at a spot on the cover, like she’s in a trance.
Emilia’s head snaps up and her eyes lock onto mine as I watch her,
waiting for the volcano brewing inside of her to erupt.
She’s fucking furious. It’s almost as if I watch it happen, all of the
events of today connect and become a clear picture in her head.
“Do not play with me, Lukas. I want the truth. How the fuck do you
know my sister?” She is seething and it looks so goddamn good on her.
Emilia hasn’t noticed that she’s in my bed again, but I stride over to
the lounger, taking a seat. I rest my elbows on my knees, linking my fingers
together as I look at her, trying to decide how I am going to play this. A
little truth, a little lie.
“We went to high school together,” I tell her, giving her a truth.
“Why did she call you baby?” she asks.
Ah, smart girl with an even sharper memory.
“Emilia, despite what you think, your sister was no Virgin Mary. In
fact, it wouldn’t surprise me if she called the entire male student body baby.
God knows she fucked them all… and a few faculty members if I remember
correctly.” I tap my chin pondering the last part for effect, even though I
know it to be a fact. There were many faculty members, including the
headteacher.
“Yeah, no shit. Apparently, there’s a lot that I don’t know about her.”
Her eyes drop down to the blanket again and I want them back on mine. My
wish is granted when she looks back up at me, the rage having simmered a
little, leaving space for what looks like grief and betrayal.
“So, you fucked my sister?” I flinch because it’s true, but I don’t want
to be responsible for the look in her eyes. I don’t speak. Don’t break eye

164. contact, as I watch her hear the answer in the silence. The silence between
us that always speaks a thousand words.
She blows out a single laugh, like she’s come to some sort of sad,
amusing realization.
“You know, I remember the summer before Lexi went missing, we
were at the beach.” She tilts her head toward the window, indicating that
she means this beach.
“We were messing around, actually having fun, which was a rarity, for
me at least. Except for anytime I was with Mel…” She pauses, a frown
playing between her brows as she stares out of the window into the night
sky. “I thought I kept catching her looking up to the clifftop, but I was never
sure what she was looking for. Or maybe who she was looking for.” She
shrugs her shoulders, defeated, looking back to me.
“And now it all makes sense. She was looking for you.” She sounds
broken, and in that moment, I don’t want it to be about her sister. I selfishly
want her to be broken over me. I don’t know what’s going through her head
right now and it’s killing me, because her eyes are back on the fucking
blanket and I need to see her. Emilia’s eyes don’t lie, and for once in my
goddamn life I actually want the truth.
“Alexis was never interested in me, Emilia,” I tell her. She laughs out
loud, and the sound makes my heart beat faster.
There’s an overwhelming feeling in my chest and the words are sitting
on my tongue. My head doesn’t want me to say them, but a different part
inside of me wants to give her another truth. Emilia isn’t my kryptonite—
fuck that—this girl is my truth serum, which is so much more dangerous.
Fuck it.
“I know she wasn’t interested in me, because she was in love with my
brother.” I let the words linger on my tongue, tasting them for the first time
in a long time. I haven’t said the word ‘brother’ out loud for so long.
Running my hands through my hair I wait for her to speak.
“You have a brother? Does he live here with you? I haven’t seen him
around,” she says, interested in this new information I’ve given her. It is
risky, but it’s too late now.
“No, you wouldn’t have seen him around… he’s dead.” I stand up. I’ve
had enough talking. I hear her small gasp as I walk to the door. I turn back
to her before leaving, “I need to make a phone call, I’ll be back soon.

165. Emilia, you don’t have to stay in here. If you want to go back to your room,
that’s fine.”
Shit, this girl is getting to me.
◆◆◆
Closing the door of my study, I dial Nate’s number. It’s late but he’ll
pick up, he always does. I swear that fucker never sleeps. After four rings
he picks up.
“What’s up man? You’re interrupting one of my extracurricular
activities, it better be good,” he tells me, his voice monotone and
disinterested.
Fucks sake, extracurricular activities for Nate can only mean two
things—one, that he’s fucking some random, or two, he’s getting his hands
bloody. Or he’s busy torturing Emilia’s best friend Melody. Apparently,
they have history and he’s taking full advantage of being reunited with her
again, which isn’t good for anyone.
I clear my throat getting back to the reason I called.
“I need you to intercept someone and make sure they get to the
warehouse. White Mercedes Benz, I’ll text you the plate number. And Nate,
don’t do any damage. I want her in one piece when I get there,” I tell him,
hearing a distinct zipper sound and feminine whine in the background. I
guess it was extracurricular activity number one.
“Well, you’re no fun. Yeah, fine man, I got it covered. Text me when
you’ll be there.” I end the call and text him the details.
I take the stairs two at a time, expecting Emilia to have gone back to
her room, but when I open my bedroom door, I hear the shower running. Is
she using my shower? The thought makes me hard as hell and now all I can
picture is Emilia naked, wet and all lathered up.
I can’t deny it any longer. I want Emilia, and the worst thing about it,
is that it isn’t just a carnal need for her physically anymore; I want more. I
already knew I was falling in love with her, but that never meant that I
consciously wanted her. That’s changed. I learned from my father, that even
if you love someone, you can train yourself to feel the opposite. The fine
line between love and hate in practice.
Ten minutes later, Emilia steps out from my bathroom wrapped in a
towel, droplets of water trailing down her neck to her breasts, and I want to

166. lick them up. Her hair is dark anyway, but it looks as black as the night sky,
tinted with blue when it’s wet. I want to grab it and wrap it around my
fingers.
I don’t bother to look away, the electricity in the air is different this
time. Sitting on the edge of my bed my eyes follow her as she takes small
steps closer towards me, nearly closing the distance between us. She walks
to me and I can sense there’s something different about her. I don’t think I
have ever seen someone with so much determination behind her eyes, she
exudes confidence like never before, and it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever
seen. My dick strains against the zipper of my jeans, craving for her touch
and the wet haven between her legs.
The powerful, dominant look in her eyes completely obliterates any
thoughts I might have had, that I am the one in control.
She looks at me as if I am her prey, her submissive. I’ll let her think
whatever the fuck she wants to.
I can’t resist her anymore.

167. CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Emilia
I let the scolding water run down my body. The steam and heat of the water
reaching deep into my pores, cleansing my mind body and soul of so much
emotional baggage and turmoil I hadn’t realized I’d clung on to for so long.
Relief is the overwhelming emotion that courses through my veins, making
me feel dirty, it should be the last emotion I should be experiencing. Yes,
there’s betrayal, lies and so much pain that I want to scream. For some

168. reason though, I won’t allow myself to let the pain paralyze me. I feel like
this isn’t the end.
Call it instinct, or intuition, but I can taste it, just like there’s a distinct
sweet, earthy smell in the air before a storm hits.
There’s more that I don’t know. I’m not an idiot, and I’m well aware
that Lukas hasn’t told me everything. Like the fact that he knew my sister
and didn’t say a word, I know there’s more to that. He would have no
reason to lie unless he knows more—more he doesn’t want me to know—
and the worst part is, I just can’t bring myself to care.
It’s liberating, not having the weight on my chest constantly burdening
me—the anxiety and fear I felt for the girl I’d put on a pedestal for too long.
I had admired Alexis for so long, living my life revolving around finding
her.
Alexis had made it abundantly clear I was nothing to her. Nothing to
my mother.
What kind of parent just leaves her child behind, knowing the type of man
she is leaving her with is a violent, aggressive and abusive addict who has
no issue putting his grubby hands on young girls, with the intention of
much worse?
I decide in that moment, to never give anyone power over me. I’d
never thought that I had given other people control over me, not up until
now. I had hope. That girl was gone, buried with the memory of my sister
and relying on the idea of her to make me feel safe and happy somehow.
I make the promise to put myself first. I’d put everyone else before
myself for too long. Fuck them. Now I will take what I want, and no one
can stop me. It’s as clear as it ever was, that I only have myself to depend
on.
There is something I do want, someone.
I can’t fight the laws of attraction anymore, I want him. There’s only
one way to test this newfound power within me, and that is to take it back.
Still wrapped in my towel, I move from Lukas’s bathroom into his
bedroom, finding his eyes fixated on my chest. His eyes dark with arousal,
the usual piercing clear blue, now a dark navy that almost matches the color
of his bedroom walls. My body hums with electricity as I see what I’m
doing to him, his dick hard and pressing against his jeans. The visual does
nothing to defuse the wetness spreading between my legs. I am positive my

169. arousal will be dripping down my thighs if he continues to look at me like
that.
I’m not the type of girl who has held out on having sex because I
thought some knight in shining armor would swoop in and rescue me, or
that it would be love at first sight. But imagine the irony of this situation.
I’m not a prude; I just haven’t been interested in anyone enough to want to
have their dick inside of me, because even though it might not be one of
those moments that I’ll cherish forever, I’ll remember it—so I might as well
make it a memory I’m not repulsed at.
He doesn’t move as I step closer to him, stopping when I’m standing in
front of him with only a foot in between us, my toes curling into the thick,
soft rug beside the bed in anticipation. I don’t move yet, I just watch him,
giving him this time to decide if he wants to escape. With Lukas, you can
never predict what he might do.
Standing over him, I look down through my lashes, and the rush of
adrenaline is heady. My pulse accelerates when he stays deadly still, not
moving a muscle, as he lets me take the lead.
The only sound that fills the room is his heavy breathing and my
shaky breath. I’d be lying if I said I’m not nervous; I am, but I’ve also never
wanted anyone so badly.
I lift my leg, placing my knee on the side of his thigh, causing the
bottom of my towel to slide up my leg and the slit to open a little more,
revealing more of my thigh. Lukas’s Adam’s apple bobs underneath his skin
as he swallows loudly. Placing my hands on his shoulders, I grab the strong
muscle pulled tight beneath his t-shirt, relishing in the touch. Even though
it’s not his bare skin, the heat coming from body is addictive. Using his
shoulders for balance I lift my other leg, straddling him, but not quite
touching.
Lukas slides his tongue out slowly and licks his lower lip, drawing
my eyes to the movement, and I hear my breathing increase. He reacts with
his signature smirk, but there isn’t an ounce of arrogance there, only desire
and maybe a small dose of pride.
His hands move from behind him where they were supporting his
weight, and wrap around my hips, squeezing a little as he slowly pulls me
down, so that I can feel the heat of his body and the size of his cock that’s
now pressed up against me when he tilts my hips down and closer to him.

170. The friction between the rough denim of his jeans, the stiffness of his
erection against my bare and extremely sensitive pussy is enough to make
my body twitch, and a whimper escapes my lips. Lukas’s gaze drifts from
my face as he presses my pussy against him again. He pushes his hips up a
fraction, intensifying the action even more. I moan loud enough that if
anyone is in the hall, they’ll hear me.
He looks like he is hanging on by a thread which is fraying rapidly.
Lowering my hands, I drag them over his muscles, feeling them flex under
my fingertips until I reach the hem of his shirt, lifting it up and dropping it
to the floor somewhere behind me. Lukas’s muscles are defined and tense,
and I want to lick every single dip and ridge on his body. His abs look like
they’ve been carved by Hades himself, because if there is anything
memorable about this man’s body, it’s that it is deadly, dangerous and
addictive.
I then see the moment where raw hunger takes over and the thread
snaps.
In a second, I’m flipped over onto my back and he takes the power
back. This little battle between us over who takes control is filling me with
a wild and erotic need for him. All inhibitions fizzle to nothing when we’re
together like this.
I rake my eyes up and over his body, pausing on every part of exposed
skin as I move up to his gorgeous lips that are parted and wet as he watches
me, still in my towel, like some ravenous animal. Dark strands of his hair
drop down onto his forehead as I look deep into those black, blown pupils.
Then I watch him lose control.
Fucking finally.
He rips the towel away, exposing my naked body to him, grabbing
my wrists and pinning them to the bed on either side of my head, restraining
me so I can’t move. I wouldn’t fucking move if he paid me.
Lukas dips down, into the crook of my neck and licks up the length to
my ear, sucking my earlobe into his mouth, biting down. I’m on fire and I
don’t care about who has control anymore. I‘m ready for him to claim me.
A deep raspy voice growls in my ear, adding to the fire burning inside of
me.
“When were you last fucked?” he asks, seductively. I don’t answer.
Lukas sniggers.

171. “That long, huh? Don’t worry, baby, I plan on taking my time with
you,” he teases as he moves his head down my body, his eyes on mine as he
flicks the tip of his tongue across my nipple before sucking it into his
mouth. I gasp, moving my hands to grip on his hair, holding him in place,
as he continues igniting the flames in my belly moving south. Lukas lifts
his head, his mouth leaving my nipple with a pop, he raises his brow in
warning, glancing at my hands that are no longer above my head.
I move them back and Lukas grins playfully as he turns his attention to
my breasts again. While his mouth sucks and licks one breast, his hand is
on the other, squeezing and rolling the peak of my nipple between his
fingers making me squirm beneath him. He laughs, his mouth still on me
sending vibrations through me, straight to my core.
“Good girl,” he praises me, my back arches pushing my breast into his
mouth, not wanting the contact to end. When his mouth releases my nipple,
the cold air hits and it’s even more intense. He stops, his hands glide over
my skin, over my ribs, caressing the sensitive skin until he reaches my hips,
but they don’t stop there, Lukas sits back on his heels, his eyes on my pussy
that’s laid bare to him. He skims his fingers down my thighs, torturously,
and just when I’m about to stop him, he grips underneath my thighs and
pushes them up, my legs spread wide, my knees to my chest. I scream out
when his tongue glides up my slit, his entire mouth is on me—devouring
me—his tongue lapping up my juices, then he sucks my clit into his mouth,
holding lightly between his teeth as the tip of his tongue tips me over the
edge. I come hard, my body shaking and writhing as I scream through my
climax.
Oh, my fucking God.
Lukas moves back kicking his jeans and boxers off, throwing them
somewhere on the floor. He kneels, completely naked. He’s pure ecstasy.
My eyes follow the path down to that delicious Adonis belt that points
straight to his cock, and in that moment I am terrified. He is fucking huge.
He grips his dick, running his hand up and down, smirking,
“Don’t look so scared, baby. I’m clean, I get tested regularly. What
about you? Are you on the pill?” he asks casually, as if he has done this a
thousand times. Of course, he has. I trust he’s telling the truth though.
“Umm, yeah,” I say breathlessly still coming down from my orgasm. I
am on the pill, that’s true—but it’s because my cycle is super irregular; but
he doesn’t need to know that.

172. There’s no going back now. I know it’s going to hurt, but I’ve heard
it’s only painful for a minute. I can do this.
“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do this,” he tells me,
and it makes me feel so good to be wanted by him. Lowering his body
down so he’s level with me, his dick is still in his hand as he swipes the tip
up through my slit, and I can’t help but start panting again; it’s a thrilling
mixture of pleasure and fear. He feels so silky against me, and I know that
isn’t close to how he’s going to feel in a few seconds. He lines himself up
with my entrance and I have to force myself to keep breathing and pray to
God that I don’t look as petrified as I feel.
Without warning and in one movement, he thrusts all the way in,
tearing through the barrier. I squeeze my eyes shut, repressing a scream,
focusing on my breathing and not the pain. It isn’t until then that I realize he
is deadly still and completely silent.
I keep my eyes shut, knowing if I open them the tears will fall.
“Emilia, what the fuck?” His voice is tense but somehow tender as
well. He knows. “Open your eyes. Look at me.” I do as he asks. He still
stretches me from the inside, unmoving. A tear falls from the outer corner
of my eye, trailing toward my ear, as I lie there looking up at his beautiful
features, his frown so deep, eyes etched in confusion and unease.
I feel his thumb drag across my cheek, wiping my tear away. Still
motionless when he speaks again, “Emilia, are you a virgin?” I don’t know
why, but I feel a little embarrassed in that moment and it isn’t because I’m a
virgin, but because now that he knows, I feel I could have handled it better,
maybe it was unfair to him in some way. I try to lighten the mood a little,
giving him a small smile. “Not anymore,” I answer him.
His head drops down to my chest for a moment, his hair tickling my
chin before he raises it, looking into my eyes, and asks, “Do you want me to
stop?”
No, I don’t. I shake my head because it’s the last thing I want right
now. The sting has dulled and it’s bearable. The corner of his mouth turns
up into the most devilish grin.
“Thank fuck.” Then he starts to move. He starts off slow and I feel the
pain fading away until all that’s left is the pleasure that’s building as he hits
all the right spots, filling me so perfectly like he’s molded for me.
“Mmm… ah… that feels… I need more.” I’m unable to form coherent
sentences but I hear Lukas growl in response as he grabs my wrists, placing

173. them back up above my head. I can’t help but scream when he thrusts so
deep, it hits my cervix. The mixture of pleasure and pain is overwhelming,
but only makes me want it more. I want to dance on the line that separates
the two.
He pounds into me again, and again and again until I feel my climax
building deep in my belly.
“Ah! Fuck, Lukas, don’t stop!” He plunges into me harder and faster,
until I’m screaming so fucking loud that I’m internally thanking God he
lives alone.
Lukas slows his hips, gradually letting me ride out my orgasm.
“Fuck, baby, you’re squeezing my dick so tight. Shit. I’m gonna
come.” I feel his body tense, muscles tightening as he pulls out of me and
comes all over my stomach, and it’s the most erotic sight watching him
spurt all over me.
Lukas crashes down into the mattress beside me, breathless, both of us
sweating. I definitely need another shower. I go to move, my body
protesting because I’m sore. It isn’t the only thing to protest though, Lukas
throws his arm over my body pulling me into him.
“Don’t even think about going anywhere, baby,” he warns me, and I
can hear a smile on his lips as he speaks. I laugh at his objection, but I still
try to wriggle out of his hold telling him, “I need a shower. Again.” I giggle
as he squeezes my side. This is such a different side to him that I’ve never
experienced, and I want to absorb every moment of it, but I will after I’ve
showered.
Eventually Lukas relents, letting me up, his gaze darkening again, as
he watches my ass while I walk away, as if he is ready for round two.
Unreal.

174. CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Lukas
She’s a virgin… was a virgin.
Shit.
I wouldn’t have believed it, had I not felt the resistance when I
pushed inside her, and I wasn’t gentle. I didn’t think for one second that

175. Emilia fucking Blake would be a virgin. The girl is a wet dream on legs, oh
and those legs. I wanted her again, over and over. Also, so that I could show
her how I fuck—how I really fuck. I can make her feel so damn good and
she has no idea how fucking good at it I am, or what she’s in for.
I’d assumed thinking she was somewhat like Alexis, even though I
knew that wasn’t true. You know what they say about making assumptions.
I definitely feel like an asshole, such a motherfucking dick right now. But
she wanted it and I made sure of that. I may be a corrupt asshole, but I draw
the line when it comes to a woman’s body; I never take what I wanted
unless I know with certainty that she is fully on board.
I fucked up though—by thinking I knew more about her than I actually
did, where her virtue was concerned. But it was too late by then, and I can’t
lie and say I didn’t enjoy every single second inside of her. She gripped me
so tight that I felt like a fucking teenager again, about to lose his load in two
seconds flat.
Emilia fucked up too though, she should have told me, and it was
shitty on her part to keep that from me. I don’t sleep with virgins; I did
once, and I vowed to myself I never would again. The girl got borderline
crazy obsessed with me, harassed me until I put a stop to it. I had made sure
to pay her off a substantial amount of money that would keep her mouth
shut and ordered her to move schools. She could’ve afforded to move to a
fucking tropical island with the amount I paid her. The last fucking thing I
needed was some obsessive, clingy girl going to the press telling them
anything about me fucking a virgin. Or worse she could have easily turned
it into a rape scandal, and that really would have fucked everything up—for
her more than anyone.
My father would’ve easily extinguished any rumors or articles that
might have sparked up anywhere in the media, and I don’t doubt he
wouldn’t have given it a moment’s thought to eliminate the source of the
issue, that being the girl. He was a heartless, cruel bastard, who reigned
over the underworld of the Russian Mafia, but he still had to watch his
back. We had a lot of enemies who would do whatever they could to bring
down Viktor Elin and his Empire. My father had a lot of enemies, period.
Little did he know he’d been living with his deadliest enemy right under his
nose—me.
He never saw it coming, although he must have suspected my pure
hatred of him. In the years that followed my mother’s death, I very

176. enthusiastically fantasized over the many different ways I could rid the
world of such a waste of a human heart. I battled the urge to end him at
every moment I could. I would even dream about the pressure of my hands
around his throat squeezing until I felt that little pop underneath my fingers.
The sound of bone snapping as I shattered every remnant of his so- called
humanity, until he was nothing but a heap of flesh on the ground. The
darkness of my thoughts took me back to a memory I would rather forget.
Eight years ago…
“Lukas, sweetheart, do you mind getting your big brother? Anita is
serving dinner shortly,” my mother asks softly as she strokes her hand down
my face tenderly, softening her touch just a little, when her fingers feather
over my cheekbone, which is turning a yellowish-brown color, the result of
my inability to follow my father’s orders.
Last week Viktor Elin, my father, had demanded that Nate, Elijah and
myself get into the blacked-out SUV that would be picking us up from the
house. We weren’t to question anyone, we were just to do as we were told.
Nate came over to our house fifteen minutes before we were due to be
picked up to go to whatever my father had planned. We all locked eyes, a
grim, sick feeling passed through my stomach as if my gut was trying to
communicate something. We all could sense the unease. I glanced to my
older brother, something dark flickered in his irises and he broke eye
contact with me, his head pointed to the floor. He didn’t speak the entire
thirty-minute journey.
Nate however leaned back in his seat, his head against the headrest,
his eyes fixed to the roof of the car, and he let out an angry breath. “Where
the fuck are we going?” He paused and I could tell he was getting
impatient, his leg bouncing up and down.
“Was your dad as cryptic as mine?” He spat out.
“Pretty much, you know Viktor, he won’t do anything to benefit anyone
but himself,” I answered.
My eyes caught Elijah curling his hand into a fist until I heard the
pop of his knuckles. My brother was two years older than us and still hadn’t
uttered a word, like he didn’t trust what might come out of his mouth. As I
watched him in my peripheral vision, Nate answered me.
“Yeah, I know Viktor, un-fucking-fortunately.”

177. Turning my head, I watched out the window as we drove down a
muddied track, the dust kicked out from under the wheels, clouding the air
outside of the window. The car started to slow, I bent closer to the middle so
that I could see out the front window. All I could see through the dust was a
building, looked like a barn or something.
No, as the dust settled a little, I could see it was a warehouse. The car
was still while we all waited in silence, Nate and I looking curiously at the
warehouse. I looked to my brother once again, his eyes were glued to the
floor, his fists still clenched in tight fists, then I swore I saw a little droplet
fall from his closed hand, dropping and soaking into the black carpet under
our shoes. Was that blood?
The door swung open and a man who packed some serious heat stood
next to it, his feet shoulder width apart with his hands laced together in
front of him. His stance was dominating and dangerous. He had a deep scar
across his left eye and was fucking scary, I mean to two fourteen-year-olds
and a sixteen-year-old. He nodded his head in the direction of the
warehouse and I took that as our cue to get out of the vehicle and move our
asses. Elijah was out of the car first and something swam uncomfortably in
my stomach. He started walking toward the large metal doors, his shoulders
were high and tense and the sight made me swallow; my brother didn’t get
anxious. Nate and I walked in, side by side, following Elijah. The space was
enormous, dark and cold. There were three metal chairs placed in a row in
the middle of the warehouse, with about two feet separating them. It was
eerily quiet but then a sound caught my attention, my eyes darted to the
dark and dirty stone a few feet in front of me, where my brother stood.
Another drop of blood hit the ground, my eyes traced up his body, his back
still facing me and I saw the red that smeared his hands, blood covering his
palms—what I could see of them anyway.
How the fuck did he do that?
What does he have in his hands?
The questions swimming around in my head seized the moment
footsteps echoed across the stone floor. Expensive leather shoes smacked
heavily against the ground as my eyes moved to look at the culprits.
Viktor Elin—my father, Alexander Grayson—Nate’s dad, and Andrew
Caper—a close friend of our fathers. They strode in, heads held high,
shoulders back, their faces were hard, but each of them wore a smirk that
played on the edges of their mouths. My father’s eyes raked over us all

178. slowly, smug bastard. My gaze moved to Andrew next, who looked like he
was about to crack up with laughter and it made me want to smack the look
straight off his arrogant fucking face. Finally my eyes moved to Alexander,
his face was the most sinister because he didn’t show any emotion anymore,
his mask was practiced to perfection. The way his eyes watched his son
though, like he wanted to skin him alive, made me want to shield my best
friend.
Viktor spoke first, “Boys, take a seat.” He gestured toward the three
chairs that sat directly in front of the three monsters. We moved, doing as
they said but as my brother moved toward the chairs, my father brought his
hand out pressing it firmly into Elijah’s shoulder, stopping him. “Not you,
son. You stay standing.” He had a grin stretched across his clean-shaven
face, small scars scattered across his skin but you could only see them close
up.
Elijah stayed standing in front of our father as Nate and I sat on the
chairs. I could feel the sweat sticking my shirt to my back as we sat waiting.
The taste of bile that rose up my throat when my father unfolded my
brother’s fists that were now covered and dripped in his blood. The clang of
metal against stone rang out after—my eyes followed the sound to find two
razor blades in a small pool of my brother’s blood.
“Good boy, but I’m not finished yet.” My father sneered as the other
men watched, smirks in place. Curiosity danced in Andrew’s eyes, where
sick, twisted pleasure was written across Alexander’s as he looked at my
brother’s skin, deep red gashes across his palms.
I swallowed as my eyes locked with Elijah’s, his eyes vacant. But I
knew from the clench in his jaw and the flash of guilt that lingered only a
moment, that there was more coming.
Alexander started to speak first. “You boys are well aware of the
Empire we have created. You are the heirs to this Empire and it’s time. Time
to lose the diapers and wipe your own fucking asses,” he snapped, looking
straight into our eyes as he spoke. “You want to be men? Then it’s time you
learned what that means in our world.” He cracked his knuckles as he
turned to my brother, his eyes darkened as he spoke into Elijah’s ear, but I
couldn’t hear what he said.
It didn’t matter because the blood drained from Elijah’s face, his eyes
snapped up to mine, then to Nate’s and all I could see was sorrow, guilt and
pain, before it was replaced with nothing, emotionless. He stepped toward

179. me, still sitting in my seat watching him as he moved closer. Elijah stopped
when he was only a foot away from me. Before I knew what had happened
his fist flew, cracking against the side of my face. My head snapped to the
left, then a second later to the right. Stars danced behind my eyes, speckles
of black filled my eyes. Or was that my blood?
My head was fuzzy and I could barely see as I heard the crack of
Nate’s nose breaking next to me. There was nothing I could do to help
except sit there, letting my big brother beat us half to death.
After what seemed like hours, we were back in the car, I don’t
remember how we got there. We didn’t speak at all on the way back, my
brother didn’t join us on the way home. Then everything went black. That
was the first day of our ‘initiation’. There were many more days like it, so
many that I began to associate pain with breathing. It was as inevitable, so
I might as well get used to the sting.
I did, my body and my mind grew immune to pain each time it was
under the hands of Elijah, my father, Alexander and Andrew. The three men
showed no remorse—they showed nothing at all. The only person who I
could tell it was slowly eating away at his soul, was my brother.
I went to get Elijah for dinner as my mother had kindly asked. I'm no
longer limping up the stairs and the swelling has gone down a little, but my
face is still a disgusting shade of purple and yellow.
Elijah is sitting on his bed, clutching onto our locket, his knuckles
and hands are still healing after mine and Nate’s beatings. It isn’t until he
turns his head towards the door where I stood, that I saw his face covered
in bruises, swollen and black, just like mine had been days before. His eyes
fell to the floor when ours connected. If I could read my brother, which I
could, I would say that shame, misery and pain were plastered to his face,
regret in his eyes. He couldn’t even look at me. I hated my father for what
he’d done to him, how he’d changed him forever. It felt like my brother
wasn’t there anymore.
My voice shook slightly when I spoke. “Mom said to tell you dinner’s
ready.” Letting go of his doorframe I went to go back downstairs to help my
mom, but I was stopped by a strong grip pulling me back, pulling me
around and crashing me into his chest. His hands were gripped tight around
my shoulders and back. He was taller than me, but not by much. His chest
shook, and I heard heavy breathing as my brother held me in a death grip.

180. His tortured whisper pierced into my heart and straight through it when his
voice broke.
“I’m sorry, Luke, I’m so fucking sorry.”
My eyes snap open when a door shuts, and immediately my mind clears of
the memories of my childhood, then I remember. Emilia steps out of the
bathroom, wrapped in a towel, for the second time in the past ninety
minutes. She’s so fucking beautiful it almost causes me physical pain to
look at her. This woman is tattooed deep under my skin, like she’s dug a
hole deep inside of me and burrowed down, and she doesn’t have any idea
just how much she affects me.
Sitting up, my back is pressed against the headboard and the bedsheet
rests loosely around my waist, I watch her. I pull the sheet back, knowing
full well that I’m still completely naked and hard for her—again. I watch
when her throat moves as she gulps, her eyes widening slightly at the sight
of me, licking my bottom lip, my eyes still on her damp skin. I pull my
bottom lip between my teeth and her eyes darken, the pupils dilating a little.
Warmth spreads through my stomach, and I know I’m affecting her as much
as she is me. When she’s close enough, I reach out pulling the towel away
from her and grab her, crushing her wet naked body down onto mine.
Droplets of cold water fall onto my chest as Emilia stares down at me
looking a little surprised and unsure. It clears, and she wears an expression
of self-assurance; her eyes still a little dazed by lust, being pressed up
against every naked inch of me—every hard inch of me—all of which is
aching to be inside her silky soft center again. I don’t force the subject
though—this was her first time and if I’m honest, I’m surprised she came at
all, considering.
Despite wanting her as badly as I do, I flip over so that my body
curves around her back, hot skin against hot skin. I don’t think I can handle
not touching her, now that I know how she feels beneath my body, my
fingers, my mouth. I draw slow circles on her hips, until I hear the sound of
her breathing which is now drawn out and relaxed. I lift my head slightly to
see her eyes, shifting slowly so I don’t wake her. Emilia has fallen asleep,
looking every bit of the dark angel I know she truly is.

181. CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Emilia
The bright light behind my eyelids wakes me up from the most restful
sleep I think I’ve ever had in my entire life. My brain hasn’t yet cleared, the
fresh fog of confusion blurring the line of blissful unconsciousness and
consciousness, and I’m not sure why my body’s so sore.
That is, until I feel hardness poking into my back and everything
comes hurtling back. Flashes of memories from last night flicker behind my

182. eyes like a movie montage. Me in my towel, me straddling Lukas, Lukas on
top of me, restraining me, his mouth on my body, Lukas inside of me. I lost
my virginity last night, and he went hard, which explains why I’m so sore.
My muscles tense with each movement but I can’t focus on anything other
than the fact that Lukas’s body heat is penetrating deep into every pore on
my body, moving deeper into my bloodstream. It’s almost as if I can feel
him inside of me, like he’s a part of me. It sounds ridiculous, but it’s the
truth.
It was my decision. I remind myself, and pride shoots through me
because I feel good. For the first time in a long time, I feel empowered, and
nobody can take that away from me. I won’t let them.
I’m not sure what comes over me, but knowing what Lukas and I did
last night, and that we’re both completely naked right now turns me on, on
a whole other level. Moving my hand lower, I feel between my legs and
yeah, I’m wet and all I want is him—again and again. Gone is little miss
virgin after Lukas gave me two incredible orgasms back to back. All I want
is to feel him over me, under me, and claiming me in every way possible.
There’s a part of me that wants to claim him too—to own him, dominate
him. The thoughts racing through my mind aren’t helping the situation
between my legs.
Arching my back, I push my ass into Lukas and wiggle slightly, I can
feel his erection hard on my back and the deep, heavy breathing that filled
the room moments ago, has evaporated and turned into quick, shallow
breaths, matching mine.
I turn my body over until I am facing him, his eyes piercing through
me, black with desire. We both know what’s going to happen next. We’ve
been fighting each other up until now, and there’s nothing left to do but give
in to the carnal desire that constantly itches beneath the surface clawing at
us to rip each other’s clothes off so that we can sink into an abyss of
heaven. I know we find solace and redemption in one another. It’s our own
personalized, fucked up version of heaven. It’s inexplicable, the connection
we have, almost as if we can read what the other is thinking, feeling.
My fingers slide from the wet place between my thighs, skimming
over the silky skin of his dick. Lukas sucks in a sharp breath when my
fingers make contact with his and wrap around the base of his cock,
gripping him, not too tight but tight enough. I run my hand up to the head of
his dick and back down again, keeping my eyes on his the whole time. He

183. looks like he’s about to detonate at any moment. I can feel his need for
control and dominance while he watches me take it. The way his muscles
strain and tense on his body, he’s enjoying it as well as battling the desire to
dominate me in every way. He doesn’t though, he lets me take over and it’s
the most incredible feeling. Lukas being completely at my mercy—it makes
me brave.
Sitting up, I move my leg over him so that my naked body is straddling
him while moving my hand up and down over his cock, that’s getting
harder by the second. Lukas’s hand twitches to reach out and touch me, but
I shoot a look at his hands, silently ordering him not to move, he obeys,
knowing I’m lapping up every drop of control that I’m taking right now.
Smirk in place, and the way he lifts both of his arms and folds them under
his head, watching me, tells me he understands exactly what’s going
through my mind. Lukas’s strong biceps look even bigger from this angle,
and I’m itching to have them wrapped around my body, holding me
together the way he does without knowing.
He watches me as I continue to stroke my hand over him, increasing
the pace a little. His pupils are completely blown, and I wonder how much
of his willpower he’s battling right now to flip me over and fuck me
senseless.
The power has gone to my head and all I can think about is pushing the
boundaries and seeing what it takes for him to snap; I want him to fucking
snap.
Shifting my body a little lower, I dip my head down, my eyes locked
on his as I swipe my tongue across the head of his dick, making him growl,
watching me through hooded eyes. His lips part, mesmerized by what I’m
doing to him. I close my lips around him and suck, tasting the saltiness on
my tongue as I move down as far as I can. His moans pierce the quiet of his
bedroom as I take him so far into my mouth, I feel him at the back of my
throat. He shifts his hips pushing up, making me gag and I can feel tears
prick at my eyes, and I love every second of it. As I move back up, I use my
tongue and glide it over the underside of his dick, making him moan, the
sound reverberating through our bodies. I can see how desperate he is to
move his hands and grab my head, so he can fuck my mouth the way he
wants to. Still, he doesn’t.
I continue to suck and lick him, feeling him harden in my mouth and
he moans again.

184. “Fuck, Emilia… shit.” I can tell he’s close. He’s rock hard underneath
my lips, hips thrusting up forcing his cock to the back of my throat, gagging
me every time it hits.
“Shit, I’m gonna come.” He tries to shift his body, I assume, so he
doesn’t come in my mouth. Maybe he doesn’t think I want it due to my
inexperience. But I do. I suck harder, taking him as deep as I can. Groans
echo through the room as his fist grabs a handful of my hair, and his cum
shoots down the back of my throat. His dick still pulses in my mouth as I
swallow every bit of him that he gives me, until he releases his hold on my
hair letting out a ragged breath.
“Holy shit. Where the fuck have you been?” Lukas pants, still catching
his breath after his orgasm, letting out a satisfied groan.
I lick my lips, feeling utterly euphoric. His reaction to me and my
mouth on him gives me the biggest rush of adrenaline that flows eagerly
through my veins. I’m left wanting more, but I know I’m still sore, so go to
move off of his body. Strong fingers grip around my throat, gently pulling
me to him so that my body is pressed against every part of his, my breasts
pressed against his pecs. Curving his hand around the back of my neck,
Lukas crushes his lips to mine in a slow and sensual kiss. His tongue teases
the seam of mine begging for entry, and when I give it to him, he moans,
sending a current through my body straight to my core. Our tongues move
together, Lukas tasting and exploring every angle of my mouth; we are
licking, sucking, and caressing one another in the most passionate and
erotic kiss. My heart pounds in my chest so violently I may need medical
help if he continues his onslaught of ecstasy. I feel him growing hard again,
against my leg as he moves his head back from mine, our lips parting, the
glint of playfulness and lust in his eyes is addictive, and I find myself
forgetting the sore ache between my legs.
Lukas flips us over completely so that I am under him, my belly
pressed into the bed and his front hovers over me. Leaning down, he traces
one finger down my back over my spine, whispering in my ear, his voice
full of temptation and need, “I hope you're fucking ready for me baby, you
have no idea what you’re in for.”
His hand twists underneath me lifting my hips up so my head is
against the bed and my ass is up on full display. Under other circumstances,
I might’ve been embarrassed, but being with Lukas brings out something in
me. The passion—raw and carnal—the self-acceptance that I’ve been

185. craving for my whole life. I find it here with him; I know he feels it too
because it possesses his every touch, every move when our bodies
intertwine.
Lukas strokes his hands over my ass, digging his fingers into the
cheeks before spreading them apart, so he can see every bit of my ass and
pussy, he groans in approval, and before I can try anything, he thrusts so
deep inside of me he bottoms out, the brute force and pleasure making me
cry out. Then he’s relentless; he fucks me hard and fast, then slow and deep
until every single nerve in my body is screaming in ecstasy. I feel every
ounce of restraint he showed last night expel from his body as he pounds
into me, hell bent on claiming every single cell inside and outside of me. A
strong hand wraps around my throat, pulling me up so that my back is flush
against his front, every hard muscle pressing into me, setting me on fire. He
fucks me hard, until I’m coming on his dick, and I feel him pulsing inside
of me. He grips my throat tighter as we come, and it’s the most erotic
fucking feeling ever.
As much as I loved him being at my mercy, I might love being at his
more. He’s powerful, strong, dangerous and unpredictable and that ignites
something deep within me. Maybe it’s because I’m the same. Two dark
souls who find the light within each other… or maybe we are just two dark
souls, finally embracing the darkest depths within ourselves.
◆◆◆
My body is so stiff and sore, it feels like it’s been fucked six ways to
Sunday, and in many ways it absolutely has. Lukas pays extra attention to
every single part of my body with his, and I’ve never felt so worshipped in
all my life.
We’ve been in some kind of sex coma for almost twenty-four hours
and it’s a coma I’d love to remain in, but reality is on the other side of this
door. There are still so many things we need to talk about and it’s
unavoidable, especially now.
Lukas got up hours before I woke, taking the heat of his body with
him. Huffing out a breath, I toss the duvet off my body, and grab my clothes
from the bathroom, scurrying back to my room. Holding my clothes against
my naked body, I strategically cover myself as I run down the hallway,
getting closer to my door but someone clears their throat from behind me.

186. It’s a deep sound that echoes through my body, right down to my bones,
sending delicious shockwaves all over. I glance over my shoulder, mortified
that I’ve been caught, but the way Lukas’s eyes are glued to my naked ass
takes away a tiny bit of embarrassment. His skin is glistening and drops of
sweat decorate and embellish his body of a god. He looks like he’s been
working out, and I make a mental note to ask him about that later; I
desperately need to go to the gym and my body is craving an outlet.
Amusement flickers across his features, his bottom lip sucked in
between his teeth.
“What are you doing, Emilia?” He asks, his hands wrapped around the
towel that’s draped over his shoulders, loosely.
“Doing the walk of shame?” I press my lips together, twisting my
mouth into a nervous smile.
“Believe me, you have nothing to be ashamed of.” His tone is serious,
but the amused look in his eyes still lingers there.
Feeling a little awkward and remembering that I only have my jeans
and top held against me, covering the intimate parts of my body, I take
several steps backward closer to the door, before hurrying in and closing it
behind me, like a pussy.
I need to get my head straight, and standing and staring at his sweaty,
glorious body of Adonis, is not doing a whole lot for my willpower or the
hormones racing through my bloodstream, begging me to go to him and
surrender—again.
After showering and getting dressed into some black ripped jeans and
a white tank top, I text Lukas to meet me downstairs because we need to air
this shit out. I need answers and now that I can breathe clearly and the haze
of lust is gone, I’m ready.
Moments later Lukas emerges, looking like a dream as usual, and
leads me to the living room, the same room where he denied me my
orgasm. I don’t hold grudges, but I never forget, and I’m itching to get him
back for it some time.
Clearing my throat, we sit, me on the concrete-turned-comfy sofa, and
Lukas on the armchair across the room. Good. Distance is good; he makes
my head foggy when he’s near, and I won’t be able to focus unless we have
space.
“I need to know what’s going on… you’ve got to give me something,”
I speak, full of intention, praying he doesn’t revert back to his silence. But I

187. feel like things have shifted; we are different now, more open.
“What do you want to know?” he asks, his voice casual, but his brows
are drawn in, in a small frown, his lips pressed in a flat line.
I laugh, the sound catching us both off guard. There really isn’t
anything funny here, it’s all so fucked up and I don’t even know where to
begin.
Running my fingers through my hair, I take a deep breath.
“It’s obvious you have a lot of power, connections… you found Alexis
but,” I take another deep breath, needing it to calm me. I feel the emotions
coming up and clogging my throat. I don’t want to let them in, but the
despair is already clawing its way up, and I am completely helpless to stop
it. “Nothing makes sense! Why would she do this to me? How could they
do this to me? My mom—” a sob escapes my throat as tears fall down,
splattering onto my jeans and I can’t stop them flowing.
My mind races with questions and self-doubt. Why wasn’t I enough
for them? Did I do something wrong? Did I do something to make them
hate me?
I can only make out a blur behind my eyes as the tears continue to
pool and fall. I feel Lukas’s fingers tip my chin up to look at him, and he
looks like he’s in pain, and I don’t know why. But there’s a flash of guilt
that’s gone as soon as it comes. He leans down onto one knee so he’s almost
eye level with me.
“Fuck them,” he spits out aggressively. “They don’t deserve you and
they sure as fuck don’t deserve your tears.”
I swear he’s getting angrier by the second. Lukas glides his thumbs
over my cheeks, collecting the tears that still track down my face. He bows
his head for a few long moments before bringing it back to mine. He looks
so troubled and I can’t place why. Part of me thinks—stupidly hopes—that
in a way, seeing me like this is causing his reaction. But that’s only because
the feelings I have for him have continued to grow and spread throughout
my body, weaving around every part of me, strangling me tight like a
Swallow-wort. The sensation is destructive but holds me together,
otherwise I’ll fall apart, and I don’t know if I could piece myself back
together. Deep down I want him to feel the same way about me. It’s fucked
up, but it is what it is.
When he lifts his head to mine, the pain etched on his face makes me
want to run my fingers over his clenched jaw and smooth out the worry

188. lines that plague me, as I take him in. He swallows audibly and says,
“Alexis is not who you thought she was, and that’s not on you, Emilia.
Look, fuck. I’m not good at this talking shit but, don’t ever fucking blame
yourself for any of this. Do you hear me?” He grips my chin in his hand
again as his words reach deep into my soul, like he knows exactly what’s
going through my head.
“I have to go meet Nate, but I’ll be back later, ok?” he says, trying to
be gentle, but there’s a hardness beneath the words he speaks.
“Can’t I come with you? I’ll behave, I promise.” Smiling a sad smile, I
watch him as he battles with his thoughts.
“Fine. Let’s go,” he almost growls.
◆◆◆
Thirty minutes later we’re driving in his SUV down a dirt track, that
looks like it’s hardly ever used. The dirt clouds the air outside making
visibility limited. I can see another SUV pretty much the exact same vehicle
as this one, parked next to what looks like an old warehouse. It instantly
gives me chills and I don’t know why. But all of the years I had to live with
Robert, looking over my shoulder constantly on edge, I trust the uneasy
feeling twisting in my gut, because it’s never been wrong before.
When the car stills and the engine is off, Lukas turns to me. “Listen, I
won’t be long, if you need me, text me. Do not get out of this fucking car.
Do you hear me?” His face is impassive, but his voice is threatening.
There’s a glint of darkness in his eyes that alone makes me feel on edge,
and the only thought that’s ringing loudly in my head, is that I shouldn’t
have come here.

189. CHAPTER THIRTY
Lukas
I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking bringing her here. One fuck up
and shit hits the motherfucking fan, and I won’t be able to blame anyone
but myself.
Now all that’s left to do is pray to the god I don’t believe in, and hope
she listens and stays in the goddamn car.

190. I block her from my mind as much as possible because now… Now
it’s time to fucking play.
I slide open the door to the warehouse, the metal protesting
obnoxiously loud. Fortunately, I parked a few minutes down the track so
that Emilia wouldn’t hear a sound.
I round the corner, finding Nate sitting down on a chair, his feet up on
the table sliding his blade through his fingers. He looks abnormally bored.
His eyes lift, acknowledging my presence but he doesn’t make any other
move.
“Fucking finally! Where the fuck have you been?”
His heavy steel capped boots hit the floor with a thud as he stands,
flipping his blade back and forth. He steps closer, his face curious as he
watches me intently.
“You don’t look as pissed off as usual…” he tilts his head and smirks.
“In fact, I would say you almost look mildly satisfied.” I don’t answer, just
give him back a fucking smug smirk of my own, offering him his answer
without the words. Not that he’d need them, he’s my brother and knows me
better than anyone.
“Hey good for fucking you, brother. At least one of us is getting his
dick wet.” He almost sounds jealous and definitely frustrated, sexually and
otherwise. That fucking throws me off cause Nate pretty much has
permanent residence in pussy—multiple pussies.
I raise my eyebrows in question, crossing my arms over my chest,
admittedly enjoying this moment. Nate doesn’t get rattled, but I can tell
there’s definitely something or someone getting under his skin.
“Nah, man, not getting into it.” And that’s that, when Nate doesn’t
want to talk about something, good fucking luck trying to get him to speak,
even to me.
I turn to the center of the warehouse and find who I’ve been waiting
for. Two whole fucking years I’ve been waiting for this moment. I want to
drag it out and make it last, and the monster inside of me wills me to follow
through, but I know I won’t, can’t have the fun I usually would.
Years of witnessing my own mother get pushed and smacked around
had instilled my vow that I would never physically hit a woman. I won’t
break that vow, not even with her. But it doesn’t mean I can’t scare the shit
out of her, and relish in every glorious second of her fear.

191. Purposeful steps bring me closer, until I’m standing a foot in front of
her, close enough to smell the fear, mixed with the faint smell of sickly-
sweet perfume and sweat. Alexis’s hands are tied behind her back, cable
ties securely around her wrists. Her ankles bound to each of the chair legs,
and the girl chose an unfortunate outfit for the day she got abducted,
another obscenely short skirt and a tight tank top where her tits are almost
falling out of it. The girl wore the skimpiest outfit, clearly coming here with
the intention that I would be fucking her brains out. Oh, I will be fucking
her, just not in the way she wants.
Alexis’s head is down, her chin to her chest. I can’t see her face as it’s
hidden behind a curtain of blonde hair and she looks like the fair-haired
version of The Grudge.
My boot hits the metal, kicking the chair leg and her body jolts
upright, instantly alert. Her blue eyes flicker around the space, taking in her
surroundings. Once she raises her head and locks eyes with me, I’m yet to
see any fear, and that pisses me off. I guess I’ll have to up my game. A
normal young woman of twenty-two years old, who’s been snatched away
from her privilege, would be utterly terrified, probably sobbing and getting
snot and shit all over the place, desperately pleading, begging for us to let
her go, but not Alexis. She is a different kind of monster. Don’t get me
wrong, Nate and I are much, much worse and there is no comparison.
Maybe it’s the fact that this woman has fucked with me personally, with my
family. Now she’s fucked with my girl and there’s no coming back from
that, only my own retribution.
“Rise and shine, princess,” Nate leans over Alexis, whispering into her
ear, blowing her hair, and I catch her flinch, only slightly but I see it—
fucking good.
Still unsure of what Nate was up to while he was alone with her, it must
have affected her to have even a slight reaction to his whisper. Nate’s got
my back, and he wants to rip this bitch apart just as much as I do. He knows
what she did, who she took from us.
I know how Nate plays. He fucks you up from the inside out, in that
order. It’s our favorite method when we need to pry information from a
person. We beat them down until their defenses are deemed utterly useless,
and then we beat them down on the outside. We’re fucked up, always have
been, always will be.

192. Alexis’s voice is groggy when she speaks; she must not have had much
to drink. Another tactic that people like us play with—you’ll discover that
when a person is denied basic human necessities, the desperation of simple
things such as water, becomes like a cancer eating away at them, eventually
developing into the catalyst of their own unravelling; the answers spouting
out of their mouths like they’ve been injected with truth serum, if you push
them far enough.
“Consider me disappointed, Lukas, and I was going to be so good to
you.” She grins playfully and it’s almost comical that she’s trying to flirt
with me while she’s bound to a chair in the middle of nowhere, completely
helpless. I can’t help but laugh at her attempt. She has no idea how little of
an effect she has on me and her effort is nothing but wasted and pathetic.
“Oh, darling, you wouldn’t have the first idea of how to be good to
me,” I taunt her.
“Wouldn’t matter either way though. I don’t fuck desperate whores.”
I’m enjoying goading her, and I grin when my words visibly rattle her, and
she thrashes around like a caged banshee. “Let’s get to it, shall we? I have
much better things to be doing.” I snarl, grinning when I hear Nate say, “I
bet you fucking do,” under his breath.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about—” Alexis tells us, feigning
innocence before I cut the bitch off.
“Cut the shit, you know exactly why you’re here. And you are fucking
deluded if you think you’re getting one foot out that door until I get what I
want,” I growl, the heat inside my body getting hotter as my temper rises.
“Or maybe you won’t get one foot out of that door at all,” I threaten, a
fierce scowl carved into my face.
“Please, Lukas, you can play the big bad wolf all you like, but I know
you won’t ever lay a violent hand on a woman. You forget how close your
brother and I were.” She smirks.
The tremors possessing my entire body are my first sign that the
monster has surfaced.
She should know better to have dared to say those words to me; the
beast’s ready to rip her to shreds. All I need is one more push and she will
regret it.
I feel Nate move closer behind me, like he could sense the change in
my body, ready to step in if I need him.

193. “I saw the black eyes and the bruises that your father gave your
mother, Lukas. I saw every mark that covered Elijah’s body that he
wouldn’t speak about. Your brother got beat so badly he couldn’t even open
his eyes, and the worst part is, he did it all for you. Such a waste really. Do
you know how much I cared for your brother, Lukas?” she gloats, taunting
me.
The beast wins, and I fucking snap.
Her words shattering through the wafer-thin line my rage was flirting
with.
My knee lifts and I drive my boot into the edge of the chair with
every bit of force my body has. It hits straight between her legs and the
screeching of the metal chair against the stone is deafening as it flies and
flips back, Alexis’s head cracking down hitting the ground.
“You fucking killed him, you bitch!” I roar with rage that shakes my
whole body, my feet thumping against the concrete heavily as I stalk toward
her and reach down, grabbing her by the throat and lifting her into the air,
still tied to the chair. I see the struggle, pain and fear that plasters itself
across her features. I know the weight of the suspended chair and the force
of gravity tugging at her body, while I fight the equilibrium with my hand
firmly gripped around her throat, holding her in the air. I hope it fucking
hurts.
Eyes wide and bulging, Alexis struggles for breath, her throat making
unnatural sounds as it fights for air that she doesn’t deserve to breathe. Her
hands still bound behind her, unable to fight and claw at the grip I have
around her neck. More hatred than I have ever felt for anyone burns every
cell I am made of when I glower into her eyes. The seconds ticking by as I
watch the fear dominate her face.
Dropping her and the chair, they both hit the ground—the chair almost
toppling over again but it stays upright, just teetering on the edge. Reaching
down into the side of my boot I pull out my switchblade, flicking it up and
baring the silver blade that’s been stained with so many different shades of
blood over time. Alexis’s eyes concentrate on the blade, the fear still written
all over her. I see her body shaking, her breathing ragged as she desperately
sucks in the oxygen she was momentarily deprived of, and I know I have
finally got the desired reaction that I’ve been wanting. Granted I lost my
shit, but only a little bit—and I’m not even close to being done.

194. Leaning over until I’m only a few inches away from her face, I bring
my blade up to her cheek, pressing the blunt side against her skin. Her
breathing hitches and I know she is scared shitless. The bitch thought she
could rile me up, she thought she knew who I was, and she was sorely
mistaken.
My mask is back, my composure in place for now, and the monster
inside, satiated for a little while, though he always wants more.
“I do wonder what pushed you to do it, Alexis. Was it hard only being
seen as the desperate slut that you are? Never measuring up to the girl he
really wanted?” Alexis growls as I spit out taunts.
“He told me once what he liked so much about her… he said she was
pure, full of fire, the sexiest girl he had ever laid eyes on.” I continue with
my onslaught as I flip the blade over, the razor-sharp side now pressed
lightly on her cheek.
“He said that she was nothing like you. How does it feel to always be
less than her? You know, it’s funny really, you always had a dirty thing for
my brother and me. So how does it feel that neither of us wanted you, we
only wanted Emilia.”
She shakes with rage and lunges for me, still restrained, but all it does
is push the edge of the blade into the soft flesh of her cheek, crimson
painting the silver and her face as it tracks to her jawline, dripping down.
Her screeching soon turns to deranged laughter, and I notice her gaze
has shifted to the door.
I feel her before I see her, and I should have known she wouldn’t
follow my orders. But when my eyes hit hers, the tortured and horrified
expression on her face almost guts me on the spot.

195. CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Emilia
I’m stuck, rooted to the ground as my sister’s crazed laughter fills the space
around me, my ears ringing, and my head dazed and confused. I didn’t
know what I expected to find when I left the car, walking up the dusty track
to the dark, creepy warehouse, but it was not this. Not my sister tied to a
chair, Lukas’s hand around her throat, holding her in the air, murder in his
eyes and every fiber of his being.

196. Never have I seen him like this, a monster. My heart pounds in my
chest as I try and follow what they’ve said.
Alexis killed his brother?
That can’t be true. She couldn’t possibly have done that, she couldn’t
have that malice in her. I mean I know she isn’t the girl I idolized for so
long. She is heartless and selfish, but surely, she’s not a killer?
Everything is playing out in slow motion as I replay Lukas’s words
about his brother—wanting me. Both of them wanting me. What the fuck?
I didn’t even know his brother. Nothing makes sense, and the sight of
red streaking down Alexis’s face slams me back to reality.
I stare into Lukas’s eyes, horrified at what I’m seeing.
Alexis is still cackling like she’s on the verge of insanity, but the sick
delight in her eyes makes my stomach churn.
“What the fuck is going on!” I yell at Lukas, my voice hoarse. I’m still
unable to believe what’s happening in front of my eyes and every word that
has been spoken.
“You were supposed to stay in the car, Emilia. Fuck!” Lukas yells, his
face torn between so many different emotions, the most prominent being
anguish, his voice strained.
Why the fuck is Alexis still laughing? Nothing about this is funny! It’s
more fucked up than I could ever imagine.
“You haven’t told her anything, have you?” She’s looking at Lukas
now, her grin with the blood still dripping down her face making her look
unhinged. Maybe she is…
Lukas stays silent, and if looks could kill, Alexis would be dust on the
ground.
“What does she mean? What haven’t you told me?” I tilt my head
aiming my questions at Lukas, trying to grab his attention, but his intense
and dangerous glare is lasered in on Alexis.
“It’s almost sad… poor perfect and pure Emilia.” She spits out the
words as if they’re poison on her tongue. “You’re so naïve that it’s pathetic.
Now come on, don’t play dumb. You have to have thought about this.” She
pauses, scowling at me as if I’m shit on the bottom of her shoes, as if I am
nothing. Her words shift something in me, my stomach turns, and I feel
sick. “We left you. Why would we have left you?” She lets out an impatient
puff of air, and the cruel expression on her face makes me realize I never
really knew her, not really.

197. “Come on, Emilia, don’t play dumb. You always were the outcast in the
family. You never could keep up with me. Mom tolerated you for a little
while, and then I finally got my dream. To be free of you. Everything fell
into place after my father found us."
“Wait, our father found us?” I ask, trying to keep up with all of this
information and the viciousness in her voice, and that hurts me more than I
care to admit.
“You’re not listening!” Her voice raises as she’s getting angrier, as I
am clearly missing something. I glance to Lukas who’s frozen on the spot,
unmoving, and mute with his eyes not focused on anything in particular.
“What is it? I don’t know why you left me! I don’t know why Mom
left me!” I scream at her. Finally done with the cryptic words, and fucking
done with this whole damn day.
“You’re not my fucking sister, you are not my mom’s daughter, you are
not my family. You. Are. Nothing.” The pitch of her voice is shrill as she
pierces the surroundings with her words that make me falter.
I can’t speak, frozen in place battling with myself whether to believe
something so monumental and farfetched or laugh at the absurdity of it all.
I don’t get to reply though.
“And the worst part is—"
Suddenly Lukas snaps out of his trance, his voice dripping with
venom and a look of realization sweeping across his face when the words
leave his lips.
“Don’t you fucking dare!” he snarls loud enough to make me jump.
The panic in his voice throws me off and dread settles deep down in my
belly, knowing something is wrong.
And my world is thrown off its axis when Alexis speaks again, “The
worst part of it is… Lukas knew everything the entire time.”
Betrayal burns so deep and torturously. The urge to run, scream and
break down gnaws at me but I refuse to show any weakness.
I don’t know what I’m feeling; there are too many emotions to keep
track. The sting of betrayal is potent, but I will not falter.
I think subconsciously, I’ve been preparing for this moment my
whole life. I’m an expert at burying my feelings until I am entirely numb,
and this is one of the times that I need to do that.

198. I won’t show them how I’m falling apart on the inside, how my chest
is cracked into a million pieces. I refuse to give them the satisfaction, they
will not have that power.
Focusing on my breath, I inhale, exhale and repeat as I slowly walk
toward my sister—not my sister.
Her self-righteous smirk still sits on her face and that’s when I realize
her words are true, I really am nothing to her.
In the next second, my fist connects with her face for the second time
in twenty-four hours, blood spraying across the floor, my hand throbbing.
I turn around, without making any eye contact with anyone, even
Nate, who I didn’t know was here until he whistled low after I smacked
Alexis. I keep my eyes on one spot just outside the door as I pick up my
pace and I leave.
I’m done.
◆◆◆

199. Lukas
The second Emilia is out of the door, my legs kick into action and I
fucking chase her.
“Fuck! Emilia, stop!” I yell as she stomps her little ass down the track,
her hair swishing side to side. She stops abruptly, spins around and flips me
off screaming, “Fuck you, asshole!” then she turns and runs.
She runs away, from me.
I’ve never been so conflicted. I want to chase her down but there’s no
way she will listen right now. The other issue being that Alexis is finally in
my grasp, and I’ve waited too long for this moment to find out what really
happened to my brother. My heart feels like it’s being ripped out of my
chest and dragged along the gravel, as if it’s tethered to Emilia, following
her wherever. My brain, though—it wants back through those doors so that
I can force the answers I need from her fucking mouth. I know she was
there the night Elijah died; she was involved and until I know exactly what
happened, I won’t waste this opportunity because I know I won’t get it
again.
Turning my back on Emilia’s figure that escapes further away from me
as she races down the track causes pain I didn’t know I could feel.
She’s mine. She will be mine whether she wants to face it or not. She
can fight me tooth and nail and deny us all she likes but I will come for her.
When I’m done with Alexis, Emilia will be mine, I’ll be hers—fuck, I
already am—and she will know everything, no more secrets.
They’ve been necessary up to this point; but look at how they’ve
fucking served me.
Striding back into the warehouse, Nate is in the far corner, where he’s
been fucking leaning back, feet up watching the show. Amusement is
written all over his face and there are rarely times I want to knock the look
off his face, but this is one of those moments.
“You fucking knew she was there the whole time, dick!” My teeth
clench already knowing the answer. Of course, he did.
“Follow her, make sure she gets back ok.” I bark at Nate still feeling
the rage burn through my veins. I’m so fucking pissed at him. We’ll deal
with it later, most likely with our fists. But for right now, I have a blonde,
worthless piece of shit responsible for my brother’s death to deal with.

200. CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Emilia
The ache in my legs is dull but it’s definitely there prodding at me,
reminding me that everything has turned to shit. How could they do this to
me—all of them. I feel like I’m back at square one, totally fucking
oblivious to everything going on around me. I thought I knew so much but
really, Alexis was right.

201. I am naïve… so damn naïve to have taken everything—everyone at
face value. I should know better. I do know better, and I’m so frustrated and
angry at myself for being back in such a shitty position. The fact that I now
have nowhere to go weighs heavy on my mind. I know Mel will have me,
but I don’t want to burden her with all of my shit, and there’s so fucking
much of it now. I can’t even begin to think about what just happened in
there. The revelations are too much right now, and all I want is to drink
myself into a coma and sleep for a decade. Exhaustion makes my legs tingle
a little more when I reach the main road, closer to the center of town. I’ve
been walking for over an hour, surely I can’t be far… I swear the drive only
took thirty minutes.
My legs protest as I push through and continue walking toward Mel’s
house, no longer able to run. I know my bearings now. It’s also not lost on
me that there is a black SUV stalking me and has been for the majority of
my journey. It’s either Lukas or Nate and I couldn’t give a shit. Fuck them.
Lukas can suck a dick if he thinks for one second that I will be going
back to his house—yeah, fuck that. I would rather go back to Robert’s
house and sleep on the pile of ash, and that’s saying something.
This part of town is the rich part. Mel’s house is only a few minutes'
walk away, and the flashy cars and mansions that look like I’ve ended up in
Beverly Hills taunt me, boasting their wealth and class, shoving it in my
face of where I come from. The woman who raised me and my sister—or so
I thought—has even abandoned me for this life that promised them
opportunity, freedom and material things. Those are the things that they
feed on—power and money—and it’s becoming so apparent how blind I’ve
been my entire life.
I would soak up any moment of affection or attention from my
mother and Alexis, desperate for it, like it could fill the gaping hole that I
craved to be filled. The need to be loved by my own family. I guess I was
asking too much of them.
I scoff to myself, though nothing is at all amusing or funny about this,
but if I don’t laugh, I will break.
Everything has been a lie; the life I’ve led from the day I was born into
this fucked up world, was nothing but deception. The rare times my mother
had given me an ounce of her attention prodded at me, attempting to
infiltrate my head and push me over the edge I teetered on. I remember the
half assed praise she gave me once or twice, I can’t even remember what

202. for anymore, but I ate it up taking anything she gave me. I needed love and
all I got were lies.
I shuffle toward the gates guarding Mel’s parents’ property, which
open as I approach, as if she knows I’m here. My legs are so close to giving
out, the adrenaline wearing off as I walk up toward the door, past the
obnoxious water fountain that sits on the center of the enormous driveway,
if you can call it that. It’s so big it can easily fit about thirty vehicles, at
least. The grand white door swings open and Mel stands there, her phone in
her hands, looking at me curiously, concern sweeping across her face as she
takes me in.
“What the fuck, Em? Are you okay? You look like you’re about to
pass out.” She jogs over to me and pulls my arm over her shoulder,
wrapping her arm around my waist, supporting me. The sound of an engine
cutting off catches my attention, and glancing over my shoulder I see the
SUV—the same one that was following me—park outside the gates. Now
that it’s stopped, I can see Nate in the driver’s seat, his gloomy glare fixated
on Melody.
Mel’s house is the most modern, decked out place I have ever been;
everything is white, glossy and utterly pristine. Her family’s staff scutters
around carrying obscenely large vases that burst with variations of flowers.
I hear noise in the kitchen as we walk past the entry that curves around to
the right after walking approximately a mile –okay, kidding—but seriously
it’s a trek to get from the door to the staircase, that mirrors the one on the
right, and I don’t have much energy left to carry me.
“What’s going on? Why are all those people here?” I ask her as
strangers dart around us with purpose carrying various boxes and other
fancy, rich people shit.
“The parents are throwing a fundraiser.” Mel rolls her eyes making a
gagging motion, causing me to laugh. She hates all the materialistic crap,
the charity events that are only thrown so that people with money can flaunt
their privilege in a silent competition of who has more, and who’s more
perfect. Mel is just like me, and I don’t know how she puts up with it all.
I nod in understanding as we reach her bedroom door, she closes it
behind us, and I can’t hold myself together anymore. I fall to my knees and
break in front of my best friend.
Mel is on her knees pulling me toward her, holding me as I fall apart,
sobbing silently. My black tinted tears run freely down my face, staining

203. Mel’s silk white blouse but she doesn’t even notice, and if she did, she
wouldn’t care.
When I’m all out of tears and the racking sobs still inside of my chest,
I tell Mel everything, all of the secrets, the lies, the betrayal—the shattered
pieces of my heart left in the hands of the man who I gave myself to, under
the stilettos of the girl I used to call my sister, and the woman who couldn’t
even love her child, even if I wasn’t biologically hers. I wonder why she’d
even chosen to have me and keep me, if she was so heartless that she
couldn’t love an innocent child desperate to be loved? And in return the girl
felt as if she walked on glass, constantly trying to impress her, just for a
moment of her time, her love—requited or not.
Not, it would seem.
Mel stands and crosses the room, disappearing into her walk-in closet,
not a minute later she emerges with a bottle of Jägermeister and two shot
glasses. Ok, I guess we’re doing this straight. Good, I need the burn and I
actually prefer it straight. She settles on the bed and I move from the floor
plopping down next to her as we throw back a shot, our faces screwing up
slightly.
“So, obviously you’re staying here,” she affirms sternly, no room for
argument, and I actually agree, which is unlike me.
I give her a small smile in thanks, and she winks, not needing words.
“Urgh, how do I get myself into these fucked up situations?!” I throw
my body back, falling onto her queen size bed, my hands covering my face
muffling my voice.
“First of all, you didn’t ‘get yourself’ into anything. How were you to
know that your boyfriend and family are fifty shades of fucked up?” Mel
says, pouring us another shot, shaking her head in disbelief over everything
I confessed to her.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I say, completely detached from emotion at
this point.
“Ok, fine, your fuck buddy?” She raises her eyebrows in question, a
smile growing on her face. I laugh, defeated, my body feeling like a floppy
noodle.
“So, I’m expected to make an appearance later but I can totally blow it
off if you want, but it may result in my death if I don’t go. Believe me, it’s
the last place I want to be. I would spend the least amount of time humanly
possible being around those pretentious, prissy assholes—oh and the

204. guests,” she jokes, even though it’s an accurate statement, referring to her
parents. She takes a breath and continues, “To avoid their wrath, I probably
should go for a little while, but I totally understand if you want to stay up
here with our friend.” Mel cradles the bottle of Jäger, stroking her fingers
over it affectionately, as if it’s a precious bundle of joy. I suppose it is
tonight.
Laughing at her, I let out a sigh, weighing my options. I mean
hibernating and drinking myself until I pass out sounds pretty appealing
right now, but I also know how much Mel despises these functions her
parents throw every other week and feel bad that she has to suffer through it
alone.
I groan, sitting up, my shoulders slumped as I look at her, my grimace
secured on my face, resembling the look of a petulant, grumpy child, as I
tell her I’ll go down with her, so she doesn’t have to deal with the torture on
her own. I guess the bonus is that there is food, and we can chug
champagne without anyone batting an eye. Yeah, it’s that kind of party
where ninety-eight percent of the rich assholes attending are all alcoholics.
Mel shuffles over to her closet swaying slightly on her feet, the alcohol
must be taking effect. I can barely see her face when she carefully steps.
She peeks over the dresses and various items of designer clothes draped
over her arms and chucks them on the bed.
“Pick whatever you want, I already have a red dress that my mom
insists I wear,” Mel says, rolling her eyes. She glides over to her bathroom
snagging a dress from the hanger on the back of the door and it is absolutely
beautiful. Her mother won’t stand for her daughter looking anything less
than perfect. Melody appeases her parents most of the time, but if they saw
the outfits she changes into when we go out together, I think they’d both
have a stroke.
Examining my options, I almost give up and launch myself into the
mountain of pretty material, because that is exactly what it is—a freaking
mountain. I will never know how Mel could possibly wear each of her
outfits even once, then again, I don’t live in a lavish neighborhood where
charity events, luncheons and extravagant balls are the norm. My norm is
more comparable to the certainty of drug dealers and criminals on your
doorstep every day. You can guarantee that there will be plenty of those
here tonight—huh—maybe we aren’t so different, after all. Labels of

205. clothes, and levels of status may separate us, but you can count on the fact
that blood money is passed under hands, drugs are dealt not so discreetly,
sex sells—literally—and it will all be as normal as breathing in this society;
because these people—the elite—all they know is money, greed,
manipulation and power.
I eventually opt for a deep, navy blue satin dress, that is plastered to
my body like a second skin. It cuts low so that some of my cleavage is on
display but not so much that it looks tasteless. It’s actually stunning, and I
can tell by the mischievous gleam in Mel’s eyes that she’s going to make
me keep it. Eh, I won’t fight her on it.
After getting changed into our dresses, Mel curls my hair until loose,
glamorous waves flow and spiral down to my waist, and then she starts on
my makeup, pulling my head in this direction and that. After we deliberated
what would look best, I choose a heavy winged liner, smoky eyes and a red
lip. There isn’t really any other option with my eyes, due to the sobing
session I had earlier. If I had left them neutral, the red rims and dark circles
underneath would have been screaming, drawing attention to my
vulnerability, and at this kind of event with these types of people, that
would very much make me a target.
An hour later we’re in our dresses, hair and makeup done, and from
the outside you wouldn’t think for a second that I come from where I do.
Not that I feel any less, I don’t, and to be honest I couldn’t give a shit what
anyone else thinks; but in these rare moments where vanity and appearance
is the focus, I give a silent thanks to my real mom, whoever she is, and my
dad for not failing me in the genetics department, at least there’s that. I scoff
before I realize I did it out loud, catching Mel’s attention.
“You okay over there?” she asks, eyeing me skeptically.
“All good, shall we get this show over with so we can get drunk and
eat sugary shit?” I wiggle my eyebrows suggestively, while I internally
drool over the idea of eating copious amounts chocolate and sour Haribo.
Immediately Mel grabs my arms and pulls me across the room towards
the floor length mirror to do a once over before we go, nearly causing me to
stumble and fall over my own feet. Because of course it’ll be a crime
punishable by death, to Melody’s mother, if we do not wear gorgeous six-
inch death traps on our feet.
I have to hand it to her, Mel knows what she’s doing when it comes to
transforming a princess into a fucking queen, because that’s how I feel right

206. now. I look good in my dark blue satin dress, the silky material looks as if
it’s water cascading to the ground, where my stilettos hide underneath, just
the toe peeking out. My curves are accentuated, and my pale skin
contrasting between the dark of the dress, my makeup and my hair, gives
off all the gothic vibes and I’m here for it. The red of Mel’s dress looks
incredible against her strawberry blonde curls, that fall over her left
shoulder, held in place by a silver diamond hair clip that sparkles under the
lights on the ceiling. Anyone who ever said that people with reddish hair
shouldn’t wear red are in fucking denial.
My dress is satin, whereas Mel’s is a deep, red lace, mermaid gown
that molds closely to her body and then feathers out beautifully when it hits
just above her knees, and in all honesty, we look flawless. I feel better than
I did, I almost feel ready to go downstairs, and just as the thought of bailing
and locking ourselves in her room conspires, Mel’s eyes catch mine in the
mirror, a look of understanding flickering across them. She grabs my hand,
and we head out the door to the vultures that wait at the bottom of the
staircase.
As soon as our stilettos click against the glossy granite, I feel like I
am going to slip and go gliding through the crowd of people, taking them
down to the floor with me. At any other time that might have been an
entertaining thought, but right now, I’m on edge and don’t realize I’m
squeezing Mel’s arm until she grunts.
“I’m going to need that arm to hold my many, many drinks in a
moment, Em, so if you could refrain from cutting off all circulation that
would be great,” she quips.
I loosen my hold, biting my lip, trying not to laugh, because the
minute she’s seen by her parents’ guests, who are all dressed as if they are
attending the Grammy’s—us included—there’s a boy who I would guess,
isn’t over the age of ten, who looks as though he just died and went to
heaven as he admires Melody from across the entryway.
A snigger escapes my lips and Mel mutters, “Shut up” with humor
and displeasure from the unwanted attention she’s getting from her little
friend. Her reaction tells me she knows exactly what I’m quietly laughing
about.
I nearly lose my shit when he lifts his head defiantly and marches over
with the confidence of well, a ten-year-old.

207. “Oh, he’s coming over here, shall I give you two a minute alone?” I
smirked which quickly turns into a quiet yelp when Mel pinches my arm,
murmuring under her breath, “If I have to suffer, so do you!”
Two seconds later the little boy is standing in front of us, looking like a
miniature man in his tailored tux and black bow tie. He has light brown hair
combed over to the side and hazel eyes and is admittedly adorable. When
his polished little black shoes are only a few feet in front of us, he lifts his
hand out to Melody,
“Miss Carmichael, would you care to dance?” he asks politely—so
politely that I question his real age and which century we’re in again. The
ten-year-old boys I’ve encountered would be pulling wedgies, picking their
noses and running riot at this kind of event, not asking a lady for her hand
to go and do the waltz or some shit.
Just before Mel can politely decline, her mother clears her throat
intentionally loudly, and sends a stern, pointed glare at Mel from behind
where the little boy stands, silently demanding that she dance with him.
God forbid she embarrass the family or upset anyone.
Mrs. Carmichael wears a ridiculously enormous, emerald green gown
that poofs out at the waist, making her look like one of those toilet roll
holders.
Her red hair is twisted up onto her head in some intricate updo, and as
beautiful as she is with her jade green eyes and delicate nose, that are so
comparable to her daughter’s, the lady really needs to lay off the Botox for
a while.
Mrs. Carmichael sashays away into the crowd of her guests, greeting
them all individually, her voice reaching octaves that only dogs can hear,
I’m sure.
Mel gives the little boy a gentle smile as she reluctantly places her
hand in his tiny one, and the boy literally yanks her to the area designated
for dancing, nearly causing her to lose her footing. I stifle a laugh, and
suddenly it feels as though the air in the room is being sucked out,
goosebumps rise on my skin and an electricity flows through my body that I
know too well. I’m not the only one who feels the shift in energy though,
the guests who float around the room, huddled in groups—women
gossiping and men sipping from their tumblers minding their own business
—follow the path to the door held open as two men stride in, exuding
confidence and power as if it’s their very essence.

208. I can’t see their faces from where I am standing, still glued to the
bottom of the stairs—the heads of balding men and their trophy wives, who
reek of too much perfume and hairspray, block my view as they all
gradually gravitate toward the entrance, eager to be in the presence of the
men who just drastically changed the atmosphere, an air of excitement
palpable. Now that I’m alone, as Mel is still on the dancefloor with the little
boy appeasing her mother, I make my way through the swarm of tuxedos
and lavish gowns, avoiding the glances of snooty women who outwardly
judge everyone around them.
I shift further into the house toward a grand hall, that’s always closed
off unless the Carmichaels are having an event, meaning it’s pretty much
open all the time. Glancing around the room peeking over the tops of heads,
I find an elaborate table toward the back of the hall, decorated with pink,
white and red roses that cover the surface. There’s an outrageously large
stack of sparkling crystal flutes filled to the brim with champagne, waiters
and waitresses drift around the room serving various foods that I don’t think
I would know how to pronounce the names, even if I knew what they were.
Champagne glasses fill the hands of the guests rapidly, and finally when a
waiter passes me, I swipe a glass from the tray, swallowing half the contents
before he can walk away. He responds by giving me a small smile and
happens to be the only other person apart from Mel, who I have willingly
made eye contact with.
“It’s been a day.” I return the smile along with my glass, which I have
now drained entirely, placing it gently back on the tray. The waiter hasn’t
moved on though, and I notice his eyes tracing up my body appreciatively
when they eventually move up to mine.
“No judgement here. I get it,” he chuckles, making conversation. His
dark hair is quite long, a little wavy and swoops over to the side so that it
doesn’t fall onto his head and obscure his vision. He’s quite tall, maybe
about five eleven and has an athletic build, dark brown eyes and a gorgeous
olive skin tone, admittedly he is stunning.
“I haven’t seen you here before, do you usually come to these events?”
he asks me, genuinely interested, his focus fully on me and not his actual
job. I worry that if Mrs. Carmichael is around, I could get him into trouble
and I don’t want that; he is actually the only person at this party I have
actually spoken to and doesn’t look at me with their critical glares, making
me feel like I’m an imposter.

209. “No, I’m just here with my best friend, she kind of had to be here as
it’s her parents’ event so…” I respond shrugging my shoulders.
His eyebrows rise as he asks, “Melody Carmichael is your best
friend?” I nod, his smile turning a little flirtatious as he continues, “I guess
it’s true what they say, beautiful people run in the same circles.”
The man is openly flirting with me, and it kind of makes me feel
uncomfortable because of everything with Lukas. A sensation close to guilt
swims around in my stomach and I’m unsure why, because I haven’t done
anything wrong. But I also feel flattered, my ego receiving a well needed
boost after all the events of the past forty-eight hours.
I offer a shy smile because I genuinely don’t know what to say, which
is rendered unnecessary when I feel every single hair stand on end and
muscular arms wind around my waist—the hands that I long for, but also
now despise, settle on my stomach. The waiter’s eyes snap up in shock and
I swear he nearly chokes on his own tongue when recognition and fear is
strikingly evident in his eyes.
Think of the devil, and he shall appear. The waiter takes a step back,
almost smacking into another guest.
“Oh, I’m so sorry, sir. I didn’t realize—" His voice shakes, full of
panic and I start to think that maybe I’m missing something pretty big here.
Just add it to the list of things Emilia doesn’t know. Lukas is silent behind
me, but whatever he’s doing is putting the fear of god in this guy’s eyes, as
he scatters away.
Lukas’s touch, and the heat from his body is absorbed by the satin,
sinking into my skin. It soothes me, but the moment I let the feeling reach
somewhere deeper inside of me, reality slaps me in the face reminding me
of all the secrets and lies.
I still haven’t confronted him about it all and my body is now tense
with anxiety, rage, betrayal and desire. The man won’t stop messing with
my emotions, and I don’t know if that will ever change.
I realize that almost every pair of eyes is lasered in on us, and I panic
that I may have made a scene and attracted unwanted attention. Why are
they all just staring?
The men’s eyes trail over my body hungrily, and it makes me want to
disappear inside of myself. The women, their eyes dart between Lukas and
I, the look of lust and admiration when they are perusing him. Envy and
resentment fill their beady glares when they focus on me, and that just fuels

210. my fury—the urge to go over and smack the judgement off of their
surgically enhanced faces. Fuck them, they don’t know me.
Shrugging out of Lukas’s embrace, I attempt to shove him back but it’s
useless, the man is a wall of muscle and he doesn’t budge at all, so I step
back creating space between the two of us.
I catch the women gawk at me as if I have lost my sanity by wanting
to distance myself from him.
Why are they still watching us?
There was the tiniest commotion; are they honestly so hell-bent on
finding drama, that the situation with the waiter is going to satisfy their
hunger for gossip? If that’s the case, I feel bad for them, I may as well jump
up on the table, perform a striptease and give them something to actually
gape at.
My breath catches when my focus settles on Lukas. Now I understand
the ever so blatant admiration from the female guests, including a lot of the
men too.
Clad in a black, tailored tuxedo which probably costs over half of the
budget of this entire event, he looks divine. Sent straight from hell, ready to
burn up everyone in his path obliterating us all into dust. If the apocalypse
could be personified, it would be Lukas in a fucking tux.
“Come with me—” He grabs my wrist and pulls me into his side, and I
try to fight against his grip but it’s too tight. If I could break free of him
physically, I would at least let him know I’m fucking happy about it.
“Fuck you,” I spit out, low enough not to cause a scene but loud
enough that he can hear me.
Lukas drags me through the guests, sticking to the outskirts of the
rooms and walkways, drawing as little attention to us as possible. He
doesn’t stop to exchange pleasantries with anyone, and there are a lot of
people who try. I swear they call “Mr. Elin” as we pass them, but maybe
words are starting to blur after I chugged the champagne, who knows.
He’s a man on a mission, and I am royally fucked.
Pushing at a door on the right we find ourselves in a bathroom that’s
off one of the hallways, on the right side of the house. Staying true to the
theme, the bathroom is clinical, white and glossy, our reflections visible in
every surface. Slamming the door and locking it, the sensor lights flick on
crushing any hope that I have of not being able to look at this man and for
him not to see me, like he does whenever we’re together.

211. I yank my wrist again and this time he lets me go.
“You know you keep promising those words to me, and I really wish
you would follow through,” he teases, but there is an undertone of anger in
his voice. How the fuck does he have any right to be angry at me?
“Believe me, the closest I’ll come to fucking you will be with the
barrel of a gun in your asshole.” I’m seething, and now that we are no
longer touching, any desire has left, along with his ability to tell the truth—
which he hasn’t shown he possesses the entire fucking time I’ve known
him, so go figure.
Lukas’s lips quirk, another smirk plays across his face but after a
moment, it’s replaced by a somber and serious expression that I haven’t
ever seen before, and the fire in his eyes is alarming.
“Don’t you dare fucking run from me again. I went home and you
were fucking gone. I thought you—” He cuts himself off, running his hands
through his hair, gripping savagely. The rapid, heavy rise and fall of his
chest displays his torment, and in all honesty, it catches me off guard. I
really wouldn’t have expected him to care. Yes, things had shifted between
us, I gave myself to him and we fucked, a lot.
Still, I couldn’t bring myself to believe that he truly cares for me. If
that is true, he wouldn’t have kept all of his secrets. All of the lies have
piled up, and the deception is too much for me. I’ve been honest from the
start, and the only thing that I want is for people to tell me the truth; it isn’t
a lot to ask. As it turns out though, everyone in my life is a fucking liar, in
one way or another. I’m not a martyr in any way and the only thing I keep
hidden away is my heart, for my own protection. Too many times my heart
has been ripped apart by the deception of others, so is it really so bad that I
keep it locked up, tight enough that I don’t even know where the key is
anymore?
Lukas releases a shuddered breath when I don’t speak.
“I thought you’d gone back there. Promise me you won’t ever go back
there.” He pleads with me, his voice softer now. The emotion behind his
eyes and the shakiness in his voice starts to crack my exterior. He thought
that I had gone back to Grotleyton, the place he saved me from, and as
infuriatingly mad as I am at him, I can see how it’s affecting him, and in
this moment, his anguish is authentic.
“I came here. To Melody’s… and I promise I won’t ever go back
there.” I hope my assurance settles him.

212. When he makes no move to unlock the door or to leave, I walk over
to the clawfoot bathtub and perch my ass on the edge, waiting. Honestly, I
don’t know what to say to him, and at this point I know better than to ask a
string of questions that he most probably won’t answer, this isn’t my first
rodeo with him in that department, and I’ve given up trying. I deserve
answers, one hundred fucking percent, but most of the time trying to get
answers out of this man is like expecting a rotting corpse to breathe.
The silence draws out, the only other sounds coming from the party on
the other side of the door, clinking of champagne flutes and chattering
infiltrating the wood separating us.
Lukas takes a step closer to where I’m sitting, and his expression is
full of uncertainty. He’s debating something and the look of apprehension in
his eyes is crystal clear. His hands burrow deep in his pockets as he stands
watching the floor, and when he lifts his hand out of his pocket, it feels as if
my heart has dropped into my stomach, nausea rolling over me.
This man, this liar holds my sister’s locket in his heartless hands. He
told me, promised me that he didn’t have it; surely, he knew what it had
meant to me back then, before everything with Alexis had shattered into
nothing.
Still, it means nothing to him to give me back the only thing I thought
I had of my sister. I mean nothing to him, and the emotion clogging up my
throat is clawing to the surface, begging to be released.
“I know what you’re thinking. I lied, yes, but you don’t know the
reason. I don’t know how you or your sister got this locket, but it was never
yours to keep. My mother gave my brother and I this locket when we were
kids, before our mother was killed. It has a photograph of me, my mom and
my brother inside that only I have the key for. The only person that might
have been the connection between you and Elijah’s locket, would have been
Alexis. I don’t know how she got her filthy fucking hands on it and I don’t
care. This—” he lifts the locket between his fingers, so that it dangles,
swinging back and forth,
“is the only thing I have left of my mom and my brother, just the three
of us, so yeah, I fucking kept it.”
Dumbfounded, I sit in silence, my mouth falls open, and tears glaze
my eyes as I lift them to his. Those ocean eyes focus only on me, there is
nothing but authentic emotion and sincerity in them, dancing around in the

213. various shades of blue. I go to speak but Lukas raises his hand, stopping
any words about to fall from my lips.
“I’m not done yet. I know you think I am a liar, a deceitful bastard, and
I won’t even argue with you on that. I absolutely am all of those things. I
knew Alexis wasn’t your sister. I knew Felicity wasn’t your real mother. I
don’t know who your real parents are, but I do know who Alexis’s father is.
He has been involved since the beginning, and I fucking hate myself for not
seeing it sooner.” He pauses, taking a breath and I am still stunned into
silence at the truths leaving his lips.
“Emilia, the only thing that I didn’t know was where she was. Believe
me, if I had known I would’ve done this a lot sooner—” I cut him off, only
because finally I can see through the haze of lies and the real reason for
everything.
“But you needed me. That’s the truth, right?” I ask him. Completely
defeated, it’s taking every ounce of energy from me. “But it still doesn’t
make sense because you managed to find Alexis all on your own, so why
did you need me?”
His gaze darkens as if I’m getting closer to the core.
The distress in his smile is evident, but he smiles nonetheless, causing
a little dimple in his cheek.
“Alexis’s father was a good friend of my father. It’s a long story but
they had a disagreement, and her father went his own way and left the
Empire that they had created together, along with Nate’s father.” Lukas
moves across from me and leans against the wall, crossing his left foot over
the right, his brows creased in frustration.
“I don’t know how it all fits yet, but I do know that Alexis’s father—
Andrew, is married to Felicity, who is Alexis’s real mother. For their plan to
run away and play happy family they needed someone to keep you away, tie
you down.” Lukas grimaces and screws his fists up so tight, the blood runs
out of his hands, leaving his knuckles deathly white.
“They paid this man a lot of money to do just that, Robert Redman,
your stepfather, is that man.”
Rendered totally speechless and unable to move, the tears track down
my face silently. Lukas is now kneeling in front of me, he still doesn’t touch
me, and I want nothing more than for him to grab me and hold me together
while the earthquake that is my life threatens to tear me apart completely,

214. once and for all. His face is contorted, and he looks like he’s in physical
pain, maybe he is.
Pain is incomparable to the excruciating shredding I can feel inside of
my chest.
Felicity, my mother for all intents and purposes, and Alexis had run
away to be with her real father, Andrew.
They had paid Robert to abuse me physically and emotionally, to
crush my spirit, keeping me firmly under his boot. I’d tried to get out of
there so many times, I mean a lot of twenty-year-olds I knew were living
alone, paying their own way in the world and I desperately wanted to do the
same—anything to get away from Robert. I had applied for a countless
number of jobs, none ever leading anywhere after an interview, even if I
thought I had nailed it. I felt worthless for a long time, not even being able
to get a job as a waitress, shelf stocker, nothing.
Everything is starting to make sense to me, chipping away at my soul
more and more.
Is somebody responsible for that?
It seems too farfetched, but I’m learning that nothing in the world of
the elite is implausible.
It still doesn’t make sense though, why Lukas would need me. This has
nothing to do with him. Does it?
As soon as the thought is exposed, bouncing around in my head,
Lukas read my mind.
“You’re still wondering why I needed you. Because you were the only
link that I had between Alexis and my brother. I needed to know more, to
find out… I don’t know, maybe if you knew more? I don’t know why but
the one common denominator, the one person that is connected to all of this,
is you. I thought you knew about my brother, what happened. Fuck—I even
thought you might’ve helped her. When I realized you were in the dark
about everything, that you didn’t even know who Elijah was, it wasn’t
about using you for information, it became about—” Lukas growls so loud,
stopping mid-sentence clearly frustrated, but I can’t make out why.
“I don’t know how to do this—” He waves his hands frantically
between us, irritation dominant in his tone. “Fuck. Come on, Emilia. Can’t
you fucking see what you do to me?” Lukas yells, pacing the glossy tiles
beneath our feet over and over until I get dizzy watching him. He stops and

215. his eyes plead with me, and all I want to do is reach out and stroke all of the
lines of distress away from his beautiful face.
“I need you safe. Promise me you’ll stay the fuck away from Robert.
He’s alive and he’s dangerous. More than you know.”
A harsh bang on the door startles me. The person on the other side
trying the handle persistently, a song and dance between the thumping on
the door and the rattling of the handle, until Lukas marches over, unlocks it
and swings it open. I wouldn’t want to be on the other side of the door right
now, I’ll say that. His expression is deadly.
“Oh! I am so sorry Mr. E—” Mrs. Carmichael’s voice pierces straight
through to my eardrum, and I swear if she goes one octave higher, there will
be a rupture. Her head flicks around the door, her eyes almost bulge out of
their sockets when she sees me, still sitting on the side of her bathtub.
“Emilia? What are you—I am so sorry—” She smiles apologetically to
Lukas as she canters into the bathroom, gently tugging at my arm. I make
the mistake of cutting a glance her way and she is shooting serious daggers
at me. You would think that I did actually follow through with my striptease
I was flippantly toying with earlier.
“Mrs. Carmichael that won’t be necessary—” Lukas tries to intercept
her, but the woman is relentless. I also have no idea what is going through
her head either, maybe it’s unbecoming of a woman to be in a bathroom
with the man she has been sleeping with. The look of horror and shame on
her face suggests that I’ve embarrassed her in some way.
Curiosity bites at me though; the way the guests react to him is strange
—they all look at him in envy and awe like he is royalty, the waiter looked
terrified, and then there’s Mrs. Carmichael, who looks like she is going to
have a hernia and simultaneously pop an eyeball out of the socket.
I’m still being hauled out of the bathroom and across the entryway,
Mrs. Carmichael’s bony fingers clutching me, when we run into Mel—
thank fucking God—and she looks flustered but not in a good way. Her face
is pale, and she looks like she is about a minute away from vomiting.
Luckily her mom spots her expression at the same time, releasing me from
her talons.
Mrs. Carmichael immediately shifts into little-miss-ecstatic when she
notices a couple of the guests taking in Melody who’s pale as a sheet,
looking as though she has seen a ghost. Then there’s me, who has just been
dragged across the house, and I expect I’m sporting mascara-stained cheeks

216. and panda eyes from all of the crying in the bathroom. It’s safe to say we
look a mess, and she is humiliated. Quickly ushering us over to the stairway
which leads up to Mel’s room, still grinning ear to ear, she scolds us with
her glare and speaks under her breath, “I don’t know what has gotten into
you girls, but I think it’s time you go upstairs and take the theatrics with
you.” She warns us harshly. The woman is a walking façade, and I honestly
don’t understand how Mel puts up with these people even a quarter of the
time.
Unfortunately for her though, they’re her parents.
Just as we turn to go upstairs, a throat clears next to me and I don’t
need to look to know who it is. His breath dances across my face when he
whispers in my ear.
“I asked you to promise me,” he says, waiting for me to reply.
“I promise, I’ll stay safe.” Lukas exhales as if he has been holding his
breath for a long time. His close proximity is dizzying as usual, but when he
kisses me tenderly on the temple, I nearly lose my balance.
Two gasps catch my attention and Mrs. Carmichael literally looks like
she is giving birth to an organ, her eyes glance between Lukas and I
frantically, and I worry she might pass out from disorientation. Mel’s face
though shocks me the most, her eyes are wide, stunned actually, which is
not a look she often wears. I can’t place why she looks so astonished
though, she knows about Lukas.
I shrug it off and when we reach her bedroom door, Mel spins me
around and screams in my face,
“What the actual fuck, Em?” She almost looks proud of me and I’m
honestly, completely lost on everything that’s going on around me.
“What is wrong with you? Seriously everyone is acting so fucking
weird tonight.” I say, bending down to take my stilettos off, and my feet
might as well be singing hallelujah.
Mel wiggles her eyebrows suggestively,
“Emilia, when did that happen?! Did you guys just meet tonight?” Mel
strips her dress off, standing in her matching red underwear, her hands on
her hips waiting for me to spill.
What I should be spilling exactly… I’m not sure.
“Okay, now you’re just confusing me, you know about Lukas. You
saw Lukas when we went to the club,” I remind her, genuinely concerned

217. about her health.
“Nooo…. I saw a really hot guy. It was dark. I couldn’t even see much,
apart from sharp jawlines and hotness! Are you telling me that this whole
time you have been hooking up with Lukas Elin?” Melody screeches,
clearly having inherited the unnaturally high-pitched voice from her mother,
that’s for sure.
“Evans, Lukas Evans,” I tell her as I peel myself out of my dress,
slipping into a large t-shirt and pajama shorts.
“No honey, that was Lukas Elin, as in Russian mafia prince, a very
well-known bachelor in the US. Well, I guess not anymore.” She winks at
me throwing her white, silky nightdress on and jumping into her bed.
I stand there, frowning and so goddamn confused, my brain honestly
cannot take anymore. My stomach tightens into knots and the feeling of
betrayal hits me again.
Is this ever going to end?
I thought tonight we had reached new territory in our relationship, if
you can even call it that.
Here we go again, another fucking lie.
Stomping over to the bedside table, I snatch the bottle of Jägermeister
we’d been drinking from, twist the lid off and chug.
“Oh shit…” Mel says, before joining me.

218. CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Lukas
Three hours earlier…
I’ve been on edge all fucking day after dealing with Alexis. She finally
confessed her version of what happened the night Eli was killed. Only after

219. I threatened her that I would take her real identity to the press, outing her
and her family’s fake disappearing act. I know there are people—important
people—who are in the know about what really happened, being paid to
keep their mouths shut, but from the look of horror and dread that smeared
across her face, I didn’t think she was very savvy to the details of just how
far Andrew Caper went to keep their family’s secret just that, a secret.
It worked in my favor though, because not only did I have that to
threaten her with, but also now that I knew the truth of what happened to
my brother, there was no doubt in my mind that I wouldn’t hold that over
her head too.
I ordered her to go back to the pathetic, empty and meaningless
existence she leads, never to set foot in Penderal Bay again. She was never
to speak to Emilia again, and if I so much as heard a whisper that suggested
otherwise, then I would obliterate her and her family.
The black tears that stained her vapid face—leaving white lines,
exaggerating how much makeup this girl layered onto her skin—and the
dramatic sobbing weren’t nearly good enough for me. The sight of her
made me sick, and I had a much more important person to chase, and she
was my motivation to get this over with. Usually, I’d like to drag it out a
little, but she wasn’t worth anymore of my time, or Emilia’s pain.
I’d called and texted Nate about fifty fucking times, demanding to
know if she was safe after I had asked him to trail her ass back home. It
took him almost three hours and I was about losing my goddamn mind. I
still had been wringing out information from Alexis about Elijah and
couldn’t leave until I knew the truth.
Alexis and the word "truth" were comical being used in the same
sentence. That girl wouldn’t know the truth if it smacked her in the face.
My lips quirk up at the memory of Emilia punching Alexis, not only once
but twice. I won’t lie and say it didn’t turn me the fuck on, because it did.
Watching Emilia in her element, letting her own monster out of the cage
was a moment to be cemented into my mind, my soul. She’s always been a
badass, but I think she restrains herself, she holds back when I know deep
down my little firecracker is roaring to get out.
My mind shifts back to the warehouse, where I got the truth out of
Alexis’s poisonous lips.
In the warehouse…

220. It was just us now, Alexis and I. Nate was out stalking my girl making
sure she stayed out of trouble. Alexis looked a mess with a gash on her face
—self-inflicted I might add.
When she’d lunged for me, it drove the blade into her flesh on impact
alone. I refused to let an ounce of guilt settle in my stomach. I don’t ever
relish in the pain of a woman, but for this woman sitting before me, I’ll
make a fucking exception.
“I’ll ask you nicely, Alexis, but believe me, if you don’t tell me what I
want to know, nice can turn to nasty just like that—” I snap my fingers
demonstrating the speed of which I can go from relatively rational to a
savage beast.
My eyes were trained on her as I watched the energy drain from her
body. She must be getting tired now, having barely eaten nor drank anything
in the last twenty-four hours. Good. I needed her weak, ready to squawk. I
didn’t need all of her sins—just one.
The night my brother had been killed, Alexis had been with him. I knew
that because he’d told me he was seeing her that night. Alexis had already
clarified that she had gone out that night to meet a friend, and for me it was
solidified. My brother and I had a fucked-up childhood, and we went
through a lot of shit but as the years went on, we understood the roles we
had to play, being the heirs to the Viktor Elin Empire.
My brother didn’t lie, he didn’t need to and if he did, I could read it in
his eyes. The three of us, Nate, Elijah and I had mastered our masks of
indifference and complete and utter lack of emotion down to a tee, but at
the end of the day, Eli and Nate were my brothers, and I knew them better
than anyone.
“You can save me the bullshit of pretending you weren’t with him. I
know you were together, whoring yourself out, no doubt,” I spat out, my
voice full of disgust.
Her head tipped back so that she was looking up at me through her
lashes trying to be seductive.
“Jealous, Lukas?” She drawled. “You know, you could have me right
now. I’m completely at your mercy. Just how you like it, if I remember
correctly. All you have to do is spread my legs and take what’s yours. Don’t
worry, I won’t tell Emilia.” She smirks as she opens her knees, baring her
pussy.

221. I scoff, dismissing her advances entirely and when I do, I catch her
flinch, it was quick, but I caught it.
“Aw, did I hurt your feelings, princess?” I laughed, condescendingly,
then I nodded toward her open thighs, disgust written across my face. “Let
me get one thing straight, that—” I gestured to her open thighs, “will never
be mine for the taking, so you can close your legs because there is nothing
that I want from you, except to bleed you dry.” Her face turned pale, and I
watched as she gulped a swallow. Humiliation clear in her expression and it
was a glorious sight.
“You never did have an ounce of dignity inside your body did you? And
that’s where the allure of Alexis Blake is nothing compared to that of a
woman like Emilia.” She growled at the mention of her name, enraged once
again.
“I’m guessing from how highly you think of her, she is no longer the
pure little Virgin Mary? Well, let me tell you, Lukas, you might have had a
taste of her pussy, but that’s the only thing she will give you. Emilia guards
her heart too fiercely to let anyone penetrate it, even you. She could even
love you with her whole heart, but it would never be enough. All you will
ever be to her is a dick for her to bounce on—someone for her to fuck.
She’ll never give you her heart.” She twisted the knife in my gut as she
spoke.
“You don’t know shit, Alexis—” I snarled at her, but she cut me off.
“You forget I know her, Lukas, I lived with the girl her whole life.”
I kept my mask of coldness securely in place, not exposing the pain
that twisted in my stomach, because even though I hated to admit it, she’s
right. The relationship—if that’s what it was—between Emilia and I had
been turbulent yeah, and even through the times she’s given herself to me,
there was still a void of some sort. In the moment it’s wild, passionate and
we get completely lost in each other, and although I have kept my fair share
of secrets from her, she carries the worst secret.
The hidden truths of Emilia Blake live imprisoned inside of her heart,
her delicate, beautiful heart, soft as rose petals encased in thorns so thick, I
don’t even think she would know how to slash through them and beat them
down, if she wanted to.
I lean into her, getting in her face. “Contrary to what you might think,
I don’t give a shit about what you think you know. I suggest you shut your

222. fucking mouth about Emilia, if you want to get out of here breathing.” I
threatened, my voice malicious, snarling like a rabid animal.
She shuts her mouth, her lips pressing firmly together, leaning back
slightly, trying to create some space between us.
“I’m not a patient man, Alexis, so I suggest you fucking talk. Now!”
My booming voice echoed against the walls making her jump in her seat at
the sudden assault on her ears. “And don’t even think about lying to me.” I
flipped out the switchblade, just to make my point crystal clear of the
consequences. She fidgeted in her chair, her eyes glued to the knife I held
between my fingers, her neck retreating as far away as it could.
I heard her inhale a shaky breath and swallow loudly.
“We were meeting up to fuck. What else do you want from me? That’s
what we did most of the time we hung out,” she said, glancing between the
blade and the door.
“What happened after?” I barked out, my patience thinning. Alexis
cleared her throat, her eyes now focused on the ground as if she was about
to say something that embarrassed her.
“I... I wanted to… ask him if I meant anything to him, more than just
someone he fucked,” she said quietly, so low I could barely hear her voice.
I listened, waiting for her to continue.
When she didn’t speak fast enough for my liking, the edge of my boot
hit the chair, jerking her, her eyes snapping to meet mine again.
“Then what?” I ground my teeth together.
“He said, more or less, that I was wasting my time trying to get
anything out of him. I was just a wet hole for him to stick his dick in and
nothing more. He then made a point of letting me know how much he would
like to sample my sister, but that she wasn’t a desperate slut like I was,” she
said, the jealousy was almost a physical entity, when she spoke of Elijah
talking about Emilia.
“And you didn’t like that did you, the boy that you liked, not wanting
you, but your ‘sister’ instead?” I stated sharply.
“I saw the look in his eyes… I could tell he wouldn’t give up his
fascination with Emilia. We were driving down one of the backroads and I
decided then that if I couldn’t have him, then no one—especially not Emilia
—could have him.” She said satisfied, and the words coming out of her
mouth made me growl. Not only because the confession was on the tip of
her tongue, but also about how she’s speaking of my brother and my girl

223. having something together, and the thought made me sick to my stomach.
My fists clenched so tight, the urge to punch something was deadly.
“I grabbed the wheel and the car started spinning out, he was yelling
at me trying to restrain me and keep control of the car, but I didn’t care
about any of it. We ended up rolling I don’t know how many times, but when
I woke up after blacking out, he wasn’t next to me in the car. His body had
been thrown out of the windshield and I remember the blood around the
shards of glass. I got out and went over to him, he was unconscious and
there was a lot of blood, but I swear I saw his chest moving. I panicked and
ran, knowing that someone was likely to drive by the wreck at one point or
another… and he was breathing, he would be fine.”
I found it hard to keep my breathing steady and not destroy the bitch
right there. She fucking left him!
“You left him to die on the side of the fucking road! Did you even call
for help?” I roared, the blood rushing so furiously around my body all I
could hear was the thumping in my ears. Alexis’s eyes were glassy and
vague as if she was reliving the memories all over again. My fingers
gripped her chin, yanking her face up to mine, my rage taking over every
sense. The vacant look in her eyes gave me my answer. She did nothing to
help my brother as he died on the side of the road on some backstreet. I was
fighting every instinct to snap her little neck.
I decided something in that moment though, the moment where I
danced on the fine line between being the man I am now; or becoming a
man just like my father.
The bile churning in my stomach at the thought made me shove her
back; I took a step back myself and did something I have never done before
and will probably never do again. I showed mercy.
“You will leave. And I swear to fucking God if I even hear the
slightest whisper of your name again, I will eradicate you.” She shuddered
at the pure unadulterated hatred and promise in my voice. “I am a very
resourceful man, Alexis, and it would cost me nothing to destroy you and
have everyone know what you did.”
A look of shock is fixed on her face that I couldn’t stand to look at.
“You… You’re letting me go?” she asked, carefully.
“Here’s how it’s going to go. You’re going to get into your car and
drive as far away from here, from Emilia and Penderal Bay, hell, you can
drive over a fucking cliff for all I care, but we will never hear of or see you

224. again. Understood?” She nodded at my demand and I hope to hell that she
isn’t as stupid as her track record suggested. Either way, she’ll be the one to
suffer if she steps out of line.
After I followed her to the edge of town, I broke a few speeding laws
to get back to the house so I could talk to Emilia and explain the shit she’d
heard.
I got back and literally upended every room in the place when I
couldn’t find her. Anita’s going to be pissed but I couldn’t give a shit.
Nate took fucking forever to respond to the dozens of texts I sent him,
and by the time he’d responded that she was ok, that didn’t answer the
question as to where the fuck she was. I was losing my goddamn mind
when I had driven all over town looking for her, my first stop being
Grotleyton. My body shook with tremors of rage thinking about the last
time I were there.
I scanned the streets looking for her, among the scumbags that lined
the sidewalks, huddled together doing drug deals and shooting up coke.
There wasn’t a lot of time left in between tracking down Emilia and
getting ready for this stupid fucking fundraising event I had to attend
tonight.
I couldn’t give two shits about it, but I was donating what some might
consider quite a hefty amount. Of course, it was pocket change to me but
whatever. I had also assured Nate I would go because his father was
attending, and that would only end badly for one of them, most likely
Alexander, Nate’s father.
I tried to reassure myself that she’d be fine, Nate told me she was, and
if there was anyone I trusted, it was him, so I know he wouldn’t bullshit
with me, especially when it came to her.
◆◆◆
Stepping into the Carmichael’s home is like any other event I have
attended. Full of hungry little leeches, who will literally suck up to you so
much they might as well be on their knees giving my cock a good time, at
least then one of us would be mildly satisfied.
We knew it would be this way though, the men looking at us with
envy, wishing they were us. The women with lustful and longing stares,

225. flocking and gravitating toward us hoping that they’ll capture our attention,
and we would later feast on their pussies, their husbands be damned.
It isn’t long before I’m sick of the boring suits I’ve been entertaining
with talk of politics and corporate matters. If I could pull out my Glock and
blow my own brains out, I would. I need a fucking drink, something
stronger than the champagne that’s being passed out.
A flash of porcelain wrapped in a silky satin gown catches my
attention, and I’d know that petite little body anywhere. Emilia stalks
through the guests with her head down a little, clearly not wanting to make
any small talk with anyone. Judging by the perverted stares of the majority
of men she’s passed, she has the right idea.
Me on the other hand?
I want them to look into my eyes and watch their reflections as I
pummel them into the marble pillars that are dotted around the room.
Following her and avoiding every mind numbingly vapid person here,
I get side-tracked by Alexander Grayson, Nate’s father.
The devil himself.
“Lukas, son, I don’t suppose you’ve happened to see Nathaniel this
evening?” The air of arrogance this man exudes is something else entirely.
“Not your son, and nope, haven’t seen him.” I sneer, my disdain more
than obvious, and he knows exactly why. I wouldn’t subject Nate to time
with his father even if someone bought my father back from the dead for
me to kill him all over again. He’s a piece of shit and Nate had an even
more fucked up childhood than Elijah and I had.
He knows I’m lying due to the smug-as-shit smirk playing on my lips.
The twitch in his jaw declares his irritation, and it’s a shame I don’t give a
fuck.
“Gorgeous girl here tonight, long dark hair, blue satin dress. I might go
and see if she wants to play.” He knows exactly what he’s doing, trying to
press my buttons. I don’t know if he knows there is something going on
between Emilia and I, and as much as I would love to put a bullet between
the man’s eyes, I cannot deny that he’s an intelligent man. However, he
clearly isn’t smart enough to know that my buttons are already so close to
detonating. He should keep going though, I ache to feel my Glock in my
hand and get a little trigger happy.
I played a little too nice with Alexis for my liking, and it’s gotten me
all pent up, ready to break some bones.

226. Alexander doesn’t want to push me right now, that’s a certainty.
His eyes flicker between mine, curiously. He’s trying to see if his
words have an effect on me.
Doesn’t he know anything?
We learned from the best and surpassed their gift of an impenetrable
poker face. If he thinks he can get even a flicker of a reaction out of me, the
man’s an idiot.
“Be sure to tell your wife hello from me,” I spit out the words with
conviction, lacing them with venom and accusation, crystal clear on my
tongue. Alexander leaves, his eyes brimming with annoyance that he wasn’t
able to crack me when Emilia was mentioned. He stalks away into the
crowd of black, white and color.
My eyes scan the room, searching for Emilia after that asshole
distracted me from finding my girl. Darting from face to face, I finally find
that gorgeous head of silky dark waves that cascades down her back, my
fingers itching to touch her. That isn’t what sets the raging beast inside of
me off though, and the sensation isn’t really rage but more along the lines
of jealousy which isn’t possible. I don’t do jealous.
Emilia has her back to me, but I watch as her head tips back, downing
her drink almost in one go. I can’t quite make out what is being said
between her and the waiter. The way his eyes roam over her body, looking
at every curve that I’ve had my mouth on, sends a current of electricity
through me and I have to stop myself from storming over there and
snapping the motherfucker’s neck. I don’t need to hear the words they’re
speaking because the glint of desire in his eyes says more than enough.
Is she looking at him the same way? I can tell she’s smiling from the
way her face fills out a little bit more around her cheeks. The thought that
maybe this boring, safe prick made her smile does something to me.
Pathetic I know, but she’s mine.
I move in, curving my arm around her waist, to make sure that this
little prick knows she’s off limits. My eyes threaten that he should move his
ass, and fast, unless he wants to be on the receiving end of my fists. Like I
said, I didn’t get my usual fill earlier today in the warehouse, and I could be
ready to burn this place to the ground if pushed far enough.
Patience isn’t exactly my strongest attribute, not when it comes to
Emilia Blake.

227. When he realizes who I am and starts squirming like a little bitch, I
know I don’t have anything to worry about regardless, but his actions
confirm it for me.
Sending him one final death glare, he scurries off and I’m left alone
with Emilia, as alone as you can be in a hall full of two hundred people,
give or take.
The heat radiating from her stomach, through the satin and straight
into my hands is making my dick stir, and just when I think I can move in a
little closer, she spins and shoves me back. Tried to shove me is the
operative term, and when I don’t budge she takes a step away from me
instead. I want her body back on mine, in my hands so that I can play with
her and claim her. Fuck if she isn’t determined though, the glare in her eyes
speaks volumes at just how pissed she is at me.
I grab her and drag her fine ass along with me until I find a vacant
bathroom. I don’t care where we are, but I need her alone.
When I’m on my knees gazing up at this beautiful, broken girl, the
pain in her eyes and her soft cries are like a bullet to my chest. The thing
that makes the connection, the chemistry between us even more tormenting,
is that she can’t see how seeing her in pain kills me.
Emilia can’t see how fucking gone for her I am. I know I fucked up by
not being honest with her, but I never thought I’d feel the way I do about
her. She was just supposed to be a pawn to get what I wanted from Alexis.
She was nothing. Well, if there’s a God I bet he’s fucking laughing at me
now.
Emilia Blake went from being the woman I hated, the woman who
meant nothing to me, to the woman who means everything.
I pace the floor, restlessly as I fight with myself. Expressing my
feelings has never been something I’ve been good at, hell the only way I
know how to show how I am feeling is through the ecstasy that comes with
sex, or with blood and violence. Neither of which are fucking helpful right
now when the girl who plagues my mind constantly, cannot see just how
fucking amazing she is.
I know it’s my fault though. I know she doesn’t trust me and it’s
understandable. All I’ve done is lie, but that’s my nature and trying to erase
something that has been so deeply engrained and conditioned into my being
is not something that will happen easily, if at all.

228. I am desperate for her word that she’ll stay the fuck away from Robert,
Grotleyton, and anywhere he might be—fuck I’d take her out of Penderal
Bay if she wouldn’t lose her shit over it. I know that’s out of the question
though, as much as she despises Robert and that hell hole town, her life is
here. It’s where she grew up, went to school, goes to college, her best friend
is here and it’s where I am.
Asking her to promise me she’ll stay safe, she didn’t get to answer my
question because some motherfucker with a death wish is on the other side
of the door, pounding with no sign of letting up.
I’m ready to rip this bastard a new asshole when I swing the door
open and find Mrs. Carmichael on the other side. Her face has seen better
days, I mean yeah, she’s attractive but the woman has taken a few too many
trips to the plastic surgeon and it’s no longer subtle. Her shock quickly
morphs into a smile and then as she winds her neck around the door, the
bulge of her eyes almost has me smirking. It doesn’t reach my face though,
because between the apologies and stutters she grabs Emilia and drags her
out of the bathroom.
Who the fuck does she think she is? This might be her house, but she
just pissed off the wrong guy. I’ll let my anger reflect in the reduction of
zeros I will be writing out to her little charity on the fundraiser cheque. It
might be a dick move but she has herself to blame entirely.
I follow slowly behind keeping my eyes locked on Emilia, and the grip
that Mrs. Carmichael has around her arm causes me to grind my teeth
together in fury. This woman is really begging to feel my wrath if she
doesn’t get her fucking hands off of my girl.
As if she hears me, she releases Emilia, and I watch as they all make
their way to the staircase that leads to the left wing of the house. Trying to
avoid the lingering looks of the people around me, persistent in their bid to
talk, or flirt with me, I step closer to Emilia, waiting for her promise. I need
it and I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because if she’s still willing to promise
me something, then maybe there is a little trust there after all.
Inhaling her hair that smells like papayas and a little hairspray, I
prompt her, “I asked you to promise me…” I can’t explain the relief that
floods my body when Emilia says, “I promise I’ll stay safe.”
For now, it’s enough for me. At least while she’s here, she is safe.
Nowhere near as safe as she would be with me, but it’s not going to happen

229. anytime fucking soon, and unfortunately my stubborn ass doesn’t get a
goddamn choice.
The rest of the night is so fucking tedious, and I don’t have a damn
clue where Nate has gone. I haven’t seen the fucker all night and he’s one of
the reasons I even showed up to this over-the-top excuse for a party, and to
boast who has the bigger dick.
I call it a night a couple hours later and get into my car, thanking
Sergio for coming out this late. Loosening my tie and removing the
cufflinks around my wrists my phone vibrates in my pocket. Wrestling it
out of my pants, the screen lights up with the last person I expected.
Emilia’s messaging me. I glance to the clock at the top of my screen
and it reads 2.33 a.m. What is she still doing awake?
I don’t need to wonder for long because the message waiting for me is
enough to threaten my food and drink to come back up. The warmth from
the beginning of her words instantly turns to ice, when I realize what she’s
found out. Another thing I’ve kept from her is out. My true identity.
Emilia: Great seeing you tonight Mr Elin. Another fucking lie.
Fuck!

230. CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Emilia
The hangover from Hades has been keeping me up all night, praying to the
porcelain Gods. My hair sticks to the sides of my face, drenched in sweat.
When I get sick, I get feverish and my body doesn’t know if it wants to be
hot, boiling or freezing, so it just jumps between them all, making me feel

231. even more like shit in the process. Self-inflicted, I know, but it still doesn’t
make it suck any less.
Mel and I had been knocking back tequila until we both passed out.
She didn’t have to stick it out with me, but she wouldn’t be Melody
Carmichael or my best friend if she bailed and let me drown in my self-pity
and sorrow alone.
I sit back cautiously hoping the worst of the vomiting is over. There’s
no way I have anything left in my stomach at this point, and it aches from
the void of food and the persistent tightening of the muscles as they
expelled everything in my body. If only it could expel the pain that I feel in
every part of me, burned into my DNA.
I cling on to the sink, next to the toilet as I pull myself up. I barely
have any energy to move but I manage to stagger back toward Mel’s bed.
All that I can see are wild red tendrils of hair vibrant in contrast with the
white bedspread. She’s still out of it, but I am grateful that she’s managed to
actually sleep through most of the night.
The old me would be having a fit right now. I honestly have no idea
what day it is; they all seem to blur into one. I lost my grip on reality the
more I got caught up in this world, and in Lukas.
I won’t even let my thoughts take me there right now. I can’t deal with
it. I’m also pretty certain I’ve missed so many of my college classes I am
going to be in serious trouble soon, if not already. After everything that has
come out though, I can’t bring myself to care. And that realization throws
me through a loop. I had been so set on becoming a lawyer, so I could help
and protect the innocent like my sister, or so I had thought.
Everything has been flipped a full one-eighty and it turns out that
Alexis is no innocent at all, she’s the criminal; she is the bad guy and the
knowledge of that changed everything for me. The goal of becoming a
lawyer had possessed me entirely and now?
Now I don’t feel that fire in my belly for it anymore. Maybe that’s
because the girl I did it all for is a liar and a fake, to the highest degree.
Crawling into the bed and burrowing myself under the thick duvet, my
body starts to get the memo that a healthy ninety-seven degrees Fahrenheit
is what it should be, the shivers settling until they become nothing. I nudge
Mel and get a moody grunt in return.
“Mel, do we have school today?” I croak, my throat protesting and
desperate for water.

232. Throwing her body out from under the cocoon of covers she was
bundled up in, Mel scowls at me and if looks could kill right now… well,
you get it.
“I don’t fucking care if we do. I’m running on—” Her eyes flick to the
clock on the nightstand behind me, “Urgh, three fucking hours of sleep. I’m
not moving for shit,” she grumbles, tossing the duvet back over her head
and going back to sleep.
I wish I could do the same, but now that the drunken haze is clearing,
the events from last night are all coming back to me with a vengeance. Pain
in my head throbbed against my temples, and I begrudgingly get up and
grab a bottle of water from the little minifridge Mel keeps hidden away in
her walk-in closet.
Draining the contents in less than a minute, I feel a little better, my
stomach, protesting against the cold and sudden intrusion, soon calms and
accepts the water gratefully. My head still hurts, but it’s a little less
prominent now that I’ve hydrated. I move and crash back into bed curling
up, willing for sleep to take me, gently.
It takes me into a deep unconsciousness, but it doesn’t take me kindly.
A pair of bright blue eyes pass over mine carelessly. Everything is
fuzzy and I don’t know the face, it’s a blur, as if this is a forgotten memory. I
can’t place it.
A lady picks me up and I must be young, surely too young for this to be
a memory. My consciousness recognizes her, and I know that it’s Felicity,
but the young version of me doesn’t know this woman.
I feel as if I’m the child, the younger version of me, but also looking in
from the outside as myself—who I am now. The way it fluctuates between
the two is dizzying.
This man’s face though, I can’t shake it and I feel like I’ve seen it
maybe, ever so briefly. The fog of this dream or memory with what I know
of the real world outside of my sleeping state is confusing, but I try to pay
attention. It’s hard though because this is unlike any dream I’ve ever had,
no matter how vivid.
“Felicity, you know what you have to do. No one is to hear of this, do I
make myself clear?” The man scares me as he speaks to my mother, his
voice hissing and so brutally cruel that I cling to her, frantically. The sound
of sobbing catches my attention, and I can see a woman on the ground in

233. the corner. She cradles her knees to her chest, sobs wracking her body as
she struggles for breath. Her eyes watch me, pain-stricken grief and no
room for any other emotion fills them, not letting up even though she cries
out her sadness, each tear soaking the fabric covering her knees, as she
rocks slightly back and forth.
I want to go back to her and help her. She looks so sad and a part of
me worries that she is with this cruel man who speaks, his voice void of any
emotion except for aggression and hate.
His voice makes me jump when he spits out his next words. I think my
mother flinches as well as she holds me in her arms loosely, but I can’t be
sure.
“What did you name her, bitch?” His voice is loud, and I know it’s
meant for the lady cowering in the corner when she flinches and her sobs
quieten for a moment.
Seconds pass, the man looks over at me in disdain, and I want my
mother to hold me tighter and protect me against the viciousness of the man
in front of us.
“She’s called Emilia,” the woman cries, unable to reign in her
emotions for long.
“Will you shut up, you fucking whore, you got yourself into this mess.
You should be thanking me.” When the monster swings around, marching
over to the woman, I bury myself into my Felicity’s chest, hiding away,
terrified. He grabs her, yanking her on her feet and smashing her back into
a cold hard wall, and I swear I hear a crack. She wails and sobs struggling
to break out of his grip.
“How can you do this? She’s our child!” she cries, screaming in his
face. His hand rears back and I hear a smack ring out, an ear-splitting
scream, and then it’s gone.
The screams are still piercing the silence and I don’t know how to
wake up from this dream, this nightmare won’t let me free.
Hands are suddenly shaking me, not violently but hard enough, and
when I open my eyes, thanking God that I’m awake, I realize that the
screaming was coming from me.
Mel’s face hovers over me, her eyes wide in horror, her hands still
gripping my shoulders.

234. “Hey, hey, Ems, it’s okay, it’s okay girl, I got you. It’s just a nightmare,
I got you,” she coos softly.
Taking deep breaths, I calm myself down after a few minutes. Mel
runs downstairs to get us a drink and something to eat, after I reassure her
that I’m fine. The truth is that I am anything but fine.
One thing that’s clear to me though—and I am certain of it, is that it
wasn’t a dream, fuck it wasn’t even a nightmare. It was a memory. I
would’ve dismissed it as nothing more than a bad dream before, but back
then I had no clue about my true identity.
The people in my forgotten memory were as obvious to me as it is day.
They’re my real parents, my birth mother and father. If I’m being honest
with myself, since discovering the truth about Felicity, I have wondered
about them, maybe even considered searching for them one day.
The thought I have wondered and almost fantasized that my father is
this great man, kind, loving and generous, had been eviscerated from my
body the moment the memory registered as real.
My birth father is a monster.
The woman who cowered in the corner so broken and afraid, is my
mother, and the chances of ever finding her are probably slim to none. I
don’t know one thing about her, but it seems like she had cared, she had
wanted me. My heart hurts from thinking of the memory and the suffering
she must have endured from my father. One fact is blindingly obvious to me
though, and that is that she hadn’t had a choice.
Mel comes back, her arms brimming with chips, dips, chocolate, sour
Haribo, which she knows is my favorite, and all kinds of snacks and bottles
of various fizzy drinks.
She throws them onto the bed, and we tuck in.
In my peripheral I can see her glance over at me every couple of
minutes, checking on me silently. I know she’s worried about me, but I
don’t want her to be.
“I’m fine, Mel,” I assure her, knowing exactly what she’s thinking.
Turning toward me, she pulls her lips into her mouth, biting down, her eyes
fanning across my face.
“You want to talk about it?” she asks, as she picks up a bottle of Fanta
fruit twist, unscrews the lid and takes a big gulp of the fruity deliciousness.

235. “There’s so much. I don’t want to talk right now. I will, I promise I’ll
tell you, but not now. It’s too much” I tear open the bag of Haribo and stuff
my mouth full so that I don’t have to talk anymore.
Mel nods, a sad smile flashes across her face for a second but it’s
gone a moment later. She knows I hate being pitied, not that pity is what
she’d give me, it isn’t, but I don’t like all this emotional crap. It seems like
that’s all I have been doing lately, crying, and I don’t want to anymore.
Mel nudges me with her elbow before grabbing the remote.
“So, cheesy movie or horror movie marathon?” she asks, wiggling
around getting comfy and placing the snacks in between us. Like she needs
to ask.
I give her a look which she reads right away.
“Right. Horror it is.” She presses play on a horror I haven’t seen
before, we sink into the pillows and spend the rest of the day like that until
the memories and events of last night are a little more muted, sitting in the
back row of my thoughts.
◆◆◆
The next week passes in a blur, we go to classes and the more time I
spend studying criminal law, the more I realized that I’m not that person
anymore. The fire has gone, and I am not someone to waste their time on
something unless I was totally sure about it.
The professors even mentioned it to me after the lectures; they pulled
me aside, asking if everything was ok with me, how home life was, etc. Of
course, I lied. The truth is, that the passion has fizzled out along with the
illusion that I’ve had a mildly loving sister and mother.
Not having any direction, in terms of my career and what I want to do
with my life, throws me off, and I have never felt so out of balance. I’ve
always been so determined and strong-willed, and now I don’t know
anything.
I end up speaking to my tutor and tell them I will be dropping out due
to personal reasons, which isn’t in any way a lie.
Mel all but ordered me to stay with her, even though I didn’t have
anywhere else to go, so I was grateful. It meant I had to endure charity
events hosted by her parents with her a little more frequently, but I could do
it for her.

236. While Mel attends college in the city for dance, I spend a lot of my
time doing mundane shit like cleaning, which is pointless because I swear
the Carmichaels have an army of maids who leave not one speck of dust. I
had offered to give them a hand when we crossed paths in the house, and
you would’ve thought I had killed their families and their cat. The horror on
their faces was hysterical and I held back a belly laugh so hard that I choked
on my own breath. Their expressions went from shock to questioning my
mental stability in a second flat. After that I left them to their devices not
wanting to offend them further. I thought maids were supposed to be the
humble ones, down to earth and friendly? Not the maids in this house it
seems.
It’s gotten to the point where borrowing Mel’s clothes feels a little too
much. I mean, I need my own shit, which is only normal. We drive into the
city when the weekend rolls around and go shopping. Mel insists on paying
obviously, which irks me to no end. I promised to pay her back when I
could.
That’s another issue… will I still be unable to get a job now?
Whatever the outcome, I’ll still try. Fuck these asshole men
controlling my life. The powerless feeling threatens to rear its head, but I
stomp it down under my military boots as fast as the feeling brews. I won’t
let these pricks have power over me anymore. I will somehow get a job, I
will find my own place and I will make it work on my own. I thought I’d
been independent before, even now it’s laughable. Here I am living off of
my best friend and her family’s riches.
I will make it work, I have to.
Shopping has actually been quite fun, and it takes my mind off of
things. By the time we’re finished, our arms are lined with bags full of so
many items of clothing I could probably open up my own store. Back at the
car we cram as much as we can into the back and when I climb in the
passenger side, Mel’s frowning at her phone. She glances over at me
looking confused and a little in awe.
“Em, is your phone on?”
“No, I turned it off the night of the party and haven’t looked since,
why?” I ask, my brow furrowed wondering why she asked, anxiety
prodding around in my belly.
“Lukas Elin just texted me.” Her eyes flash down to her phone and
back up to mine. “He said if you don’t reply by six then he is coming to the

237. house.” Her brows raise creating little lines on her forehead. I roll my eyes
dramatically, looking unaffected, when inside butterflies are pinballing in
every direction inside my stomach.
“What time is it now?” I ask, getting a little nervous, because I know
he’ll follow through on his word.
“It’s five forty-four.” Her eyes widen slightly, and she chucks her
phone over onto my lap and hits the gas.
Launching myself out of the car and up the stairs, I run over to the
bedside table, punching the power button on my phone. I had two minutes
to spare and my heart is erratic in my chest. My phone vibrates
continuously as all of the notifications, missed calls and messages scream at
me.
Thirty-six missed calls and forty-three texts.
Is he for fucking real?
I quickly open up our thread and message him, with only a minute
left now.
Me: What do you want?
The reply is instant.
Lukas: Cutting it real close there, Kiska
Lukas: You’re also too fucking late.
Me: What do you mean?
“Turn around,” a deep familiar voice startles me, and I spin around, a
little yelp escaping my lips and I hate that he made me react. I should have
fucking known he would still show up, granted I literally gave him a
minute, but he would’ve had to have left his house at least ten minutes ago.
“You want me to stay?” Mel asks, ignoring Lukas’s presence as he
stands just outside her bedroom door. She comes to stand by my side in an
act of silent solidarity, letting me know she’s here if I need her.
I shake my head, sending her a half-smile in thanks. I think I hear her
mumble something to Lukas as she passes him, but I’m not close enough to
make out what it is.

238. Lukas takes four large strides until he’s standing directly in front of
me. Seeing him now makes me realize how much I have missed him. The
sharp angles of his jaw make me yearn to reach out and feel his stubble
under my fingertips, which looks a little longer than usual.
Lukas’s eyes eat me up as if they have been starved of me, and I guess
they have, because I do the same.
I move a step away from him, closer to the door but his grip kills any
movement I make. Lukas’s fingers wrap around my neck as he pushes me
against the wall. His grip isn’t tight enough that I can’t breathe but it is firm
enough to make me squirm.
“What the fuck are you playing at, Emilia?” His voice is venomous,
the tip of his nose presses to mine. His breath dances across my lips as I
watch his mouth snarl a little.
“That’s fucking rich don’t you think?” I could literally cut off his dick
right now with how fuming I am at him. I mean I won’t, but the feeling is
there, nonetheless. It probably isn’t the brightest idea of mine, antagonizing
him when he can so easily apply a little more pressure and then I’ll really be
fucked. But I don’t fucking care. I’m furious. Yes, my body may react in
weird ways when he’s close, but right now the burn of betrayal has me on
fire, ready to pull him into the flames so that he can burn along with me.
I tip my head up at him defiantly, looking him dead in the eyes.
“I am not your girl. I am not your anything. You have zero claim over
me. And who the fuck do you think you are coming over here like a fucking
stalker?” My voice grows louder with each syllable until I am almost
yelling, but I’m silenced when Lukas’s chuckle cuts through the air, breath
expels out through his lips, blowing a tendril of hair across my cheek.
“You done?” he asks as his leg shifts until it’s in between mine,
pushing them farther apart. The friction and heat I can feel coming off him
is a distraction, and sure as hell not one I need right now. The bastard
knows it too when his lip quirks up into a smirk.
“Not even fucking close. How about you? You done being a lying
asshole?” I snap. He really has the audacity to be all up in my face after all
the secrets he keeps?! Fuck him.
Lukas’s fingers are still wound tightly around my throat, and when he
skims his thumb across the crook of my neck in a soft caress, it throws me
off almost as much as his hardness pressing into my hip.

239. “You can pretend you don’t belong to me all you like, Emilia, but deep
down…” Lukas trails his fingers with the hand that isn’t gripping my neck,
down between my breasts, over my sternum and around to my hip,
squeezing it almost painfully. “You know you’re mine.” he tells me as his
fingers loosen around my neck, my pulse thundering beneath the delicate
skin.
“And who exactly do I belong to? Which version? Lukas Evans or
Lukas Elin? Because in my opinion they’re both fucking liars.”
He can play his little games all he wants, too many times I’ve
softened in his hands when I shouldn’t have. Now I know why all of those
times when something inside of me told me not to give him all of me, not to
give him my heart, and I had desperately tried not to, and succeeded—for
the most part. He had me fooled and the ice that had been frozen around the
chambers of my heart had begun to crack and thaw.
But with each lie, each secret, each revelation the ice froze back into
place, the layers may even be thicker now. Something passes over his face,
and he looks angry.
Lukas’s body leaves mine as he retreats three steps back and I hate
myself for immediately wanting him back on my skin. His fists are in tight
balls at his sides, the tension in his face visible and the muscles in his jaw
clench tight. He narrows his eyes as he looks at me.
“I owed you nothing. I didn’t need to tell you half the shit I did, but
you know why I did?” His brows rise but he doesn’t wait for me to speak.
“Because I didn’t want you to look at me the way you are right now. Maybe
I just wanted you to know me, the real fucking me, Emilia.” He hits his
hand into his chest, his expression pained and resigned.
“Not one person looks at me the way you do… did. They see what
they want to see, but it’s never the truth. They don’t see me. So yeah, I
fucked up and didn’t say anything because for the first time I wasn’t
pretending. The feelings, every moment with you was real. No lies.”
My heart is screaming, vibrating through the layers of ice to say
something, do something, but I can’t. Maybe in some fucked up way, his
heart was in the right place and I think a part of me gets it—why he kept the
things he did—but my heart is my priority.
My broken, mangled heart that is still sitting in my chest beating
through the pain, is the one I need to protect. My eyes are still locked on
his, Lukas’s own eyes dark, not with arousal this time. I didn’t notice

240. before, but he looks exhausted. Damn if it doesn’t make my dark angel look
even more sinful. Before I’m ready, his back is the only thing I see as he
walks away from me.
So much for wanting to protect my heart because he’s dragging the
shattered organ out the door behind him.

241. CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Lukas
I slam the shot glass down onto the bar top, having lost count of how many
I’ve tossed back now. Nate is meeting me in about thirty minutes, though I
have no fucking idea what time it is. After ordering another glass of
whiskey my body tenses when I sense the energy around me shift.
“Evening, Lukas, trouble in paradise?” Alexander Grayson pulls out
the barstool beside me and sits. I scoff because, unless he really is an idiot,

242. he should know I am the very last person he wants to mess with right now.
Alcohol swims through my bloodstream, and that combined with the shitty
mood I’m in makes me one thing—fucking dangerous.
“I suggest you say whatever it is you came to say and get the fuck out.
Not in the mood for your shit, Alexander,” I sneer, his presence irritating
me a hell of a lot more than usual tonight.
Alexander Grayson is literally the last person on the planet that I want
to be subjected to right now, being the only other father of the older
generation of the Empire. My father and Andrew Caper used to rule with
him—until Andrew Caper wronged them after getting The Empire involved
in sex trafficking. That wasn’t the part that pissed them off though. They
dabbled in sex trafficking constantly but this time it was child sex
trafficking, which is the most vile and repulsive kind, maybe the assholes
did have morals after all, probably not though.
Even though I am the last Elin man standing, I took over for my father,
but Alexander Grayson still holds more power than me because I came into
my position by default, not because—as he would say—I ‘earned it’. When
Nate and I rule one day, you better believe even the mention of The Empire
and sex trafficking in the same sentence will result in heads rolling, and it
wouldn’t be the first time I‘ve done that. Right now seems pretty appealing
actually as the monster who holds a few sins over my head watches me out
of the corner of his eye like a preying vulture.
“I just wanted to make sure you know where you stand with the girl.
Can’t have you spilling secrets that aren’t yours to tell, just because all of
your sense has traveled to your dick,” he sniggers, patting me on the back
standing from the stool, and leaving the vicinity.
His words leave a bitter taste in my mouth and my fists ache to
connect with more than a few faces tonight. I need to fight, and God help
the next person to even breathe wrong in my direction.
A hand slaps my back and just as I’m about to spin and knock
whoever it is the fuck out, Nate sits in the barstool his father had only just
vacated.
“Shit, man, leave any alcohol in the bar?” His eyes scan over the dozen
shot glasses and tumblers scattered on the bar in front of me. It’s safe to say
I have probably drunk myself through a good percentage of the alcohol they
have here, also that the bartender is shit as his job.

243. Nate waves his hand getting the attention of the bartender who
immediately runs over to serve him, about time.
“I’ll take five of whatever he’s been drinking.” He nods his head in my
direction, his eyes shift down toward the empty glasses and when he scowls
at the young guy behind the bar, I swear he nearly pisses himself, quickly
scattering to grab a tray and do his job. It’s not like he’s busy, it’s pretty
dead in here tonight and the guy has been leaning against the bar on his
phone in between making my drinks. We’re in a biker bar in the city. I’m
way past the point of being tipsy, and Nate is rapidly catching up as he
knocks back several shots and glasses of scotch.
“So, what did dickhead want? I saw him leave just before I came in,”
Nate asks, referring to his father. True statement.
“Same old shit, man, just reminding me who holds the power,” I tell
him, and I take a swig of liquor, welcoming the burn down my throat.
The door is thrown against the wall as a bunch of rowdy guys enter
the bar. They clearly have no sense of volume control as one of them tells
his buddies, along with the entire bar, how he "ate out some bitch’s pussy
and she came seventeen times." Yeah, okay, sounds like someone has small
dick syndrome. Just to clarify their stupidity, his friends smack him on the
back shouting "yeah she fucking did."
I can’t help but laugh and I glance over at Nate whose shoulders are
shaking.
“It’s called faking it. I doubt he could turn on a tap let alone make a
pussy come seventeen times,” Nate sniggers, though one of the guys hears
him and pipes up.
Wrong fucking decision.
“What did you say, asshole?” one of the guys starts, his chest puffed
out, standing tall trying to intimidate us, which is comedy in itself. The guy
is about three inches shorter than me, four for Nate, he has a beer belly and
looks like he’s pushing fourty years old.
His loud ass voice gets the attention of his buddies and they all take a
step closer. Nate and I both let out a deep breath, already knowing how this
is going to end. Them bloody, and on the floor.
“Hey! Asshole, you deaf? The fuck you say about my boy?” he taunts,
rolling up his sleeves, clearly unaware that he might as well be signing his
own death sentence. Especially with the mood I’m in.

244. Blood boils in my veins, anticipation and adrenaline flowing through
me, ready and eager to throw my weight around.
We sit there, still with our backs to them, Nate speaks but still doesn’t
bother turning, like they aren’t worth his time. They aren’t. His voice is
deep but loud enough for them to hear.
“I said it’s called faking it, I doubt he could turn on a tap let alone
make a pussy—” the sound of a bottle smashing against the bar-top stops
Nate mid-sentence. I smile up at him, he shakes his head sniggering,
knowing shit’s going down. The beast inside is salivating at the mouth,
ready to break some bones and shed some blood.
Slowly turning around, still sitting on our stools, loud-mouth number
one stands in front of me with a broken bottle pointed at my face, the shards
of glass still dripping beer onto the floor. He clearly hasn’t done this before,
the poor motherfucker is trembling, his hands shake as he stands a few too
many steps away, making it easy for me to backhand the bottle straight out
of his hand, smashing it into the wall behind me. His eyes widen,
realization dawning on him that he is now very fucked.
Was he seriously going to bottle me?
“Wait, I know you.” He looks between Nate and me, his face is now
white as a sheet as it dawns on him who he just messed with. My eyes scan
around the bar quickly, taking note of how many witnesses there are, and
it’s my lucky night because apart from an older, overweight man who has
already passed out in a booth in the corner, and the bartender who is
nowhere to be seen, there are zero witnesses. I shift my eyes over to Nate
as he does the same to me, he meets my grin with a smirk of his own.
Then we play.
Loud-mouth number one reaches for another bottle, because he really
does have a death wish. In the same second that he smashes the beer bottle
against the bar I reach into my boot, flipping my blade out, my tongue
sweeping across my teeth, hungry for the fight. The man across from me
looks between me, my knife and his bottle—he doesn’t take a stab at me
though.
“One of two things are going to happen right now. You’re going to try
to bottle me, maybe in the neck? But you’ll lose. Or… nah. Either way,
you’ll still lose.”
I grin and my taunt has the desired effect. He steps forward rushing
me, rearing his arm back, still clutching the bottle. In the corner of my eye,

245. I see one of his friends coming at me from the left, and just before either of
them make contact I swing my arm around grabbing the guy’s arm with the
shards of glass pointing at me, hurling it around into the other guy’s neck.
The scream and spurts of blood are deeply satisfying, not as much as the
feeling of the skin of his jugular splitting under the pressure of my knife,
slicing across his throat. They drop to the floor and when I look over to
Nate, the bastard is sitting, lounging in a corner booth, wiping his knife
with a dishcloth that came from fuck knows where. The two other guys are
currently lying on the floor, their faces ashen. Judging from the amount of
blood pooling around their bodies and merging together, they’re both dead.
Pulling out my phone I dial Sergio, he picks up after two rings.
“Sir?” he says.
“I need the clean-up crew in the bar you dropped me off at,” I tell him
and all I hear on the other end is a quiet laugh.
“Got it, Boss. I’ll call it in.” Sergio knows how we roll. He also knows
me, and that tonight, blood and a body count was inevitable.
“I’ll be there in exactly ninety seconds.” I hang up as my eyes glance
over to the man in the corner, still passed out. He is so still he might
actually be dead, either way I don’t really care. Nate and I make our way
out just as Sergio pulls up. I get in the car, but Nate stays on the sidewalk,
hands in his pockets, a frown on his face.
“I’ll catch you later, man, got to pay someone a visit.” His lip curls up
into a grin. Fucking bastard. I know exactly where he’s going; he got his
hands bloody, now he’s going to get his dick wet.
I don’t know who with, but I have a suspicion that there is something
going on between Nate and Emilia’s friend Melody. Nate doesn’t usually do
the same girl more than once, but I know him, and he’s definitely been a
little more invested in Melody, fuck knows why.
I gotta say though, the girl is sassy, and yeah, she’s hot but nobody
has anything compared to Emilia. When I showed up at Melody
Carmichael’s house earlier tonight, she told me that she knew thirteen ways
of how to slowly and painfully castrate a man and was willing to exercise
all of them if I hurt Emilia. I’m not sure if that’s true or not, but I appreciate
the dedication and spunk she showed, considering she knows who I am.
When we get back to the house, I take a shower and wash the blood off
my hands—literally and theoretically. I was brought up and trained not to

246. feel guilt. Life and death are both inevitable and whether it’s by my hand or
not, isn’t my problem.
Wrapping a towel around my waist and grabbing my phone to check
for any messages, I make my way down the hall, finding myself outside of
Emilia’s room. Opening the door, I instantly regret it because it still smells
like her, like delicious exotic fruits and mangoes.
I’d wanted to talk to her, explain the things that I could today; but I
could see she was past her breaking point tonight, and I couldn’t be mad at
that. She’d been through so much and found out her life was pretty much a
lie.
I’m not mad at her for that at all—what I am mad about is the fact
that she still won’t accept how I feel about her. She still won’t trust me, and
I know—I fucking know—I haven’t earned it. I lied, fuck I’m still lying,
but I don’t have a choice. I might look like the king from where everyone
else is sitting, but Alexander Grayson still has a hold of the puppet strings.
The truth is that I want her to trust me, not so that I can use her like
before. I need her to trust me because she owns my fucking heart, I left it in
her soft little hands a few hours ago, before I had to take a step away.
It kills me to do it, but I will give her time. I know she needs it, but I
am me after all, and I’ve never been a very patient person. I will give her a
few days to think things over, and then she’s mine. She knows it, deep
down, I know it. Emilia Blake will be mine, but next time it’ll be because
she snaps out of her need to be right.
I told her how I feel in the best way I could, I told her the reason I
chose not to tell her my real name, and every single word was the truth.
Nobody looked at me, saw me the way she did, and it was fucking
refreshing not to have every single person in my life wanting something
from me whether it be money, sex, status, opportunities, the list goes on.
Emilia Blake didn’t want any of those things from me, maybe the sex,
but that was after she fought me on pretty much everything else. For the
first time ever, I had actually wanted to help her, to give her whatever she
wanted, but I need her to want that too.
Eventually, she did end up wanting something—not the materialistic
crap though, the raw and real shit—my heart. Which definitely isn’t sitting
in my chest right now, it’s fifteen miles away at the Carmichael estate.
I lie down on her bed and her scent is everywhere. Over every inch of
her pillow her natural perfume is infused in the silk of the pillowcase and

247. the bedding, it’s captivating and addictive. Like the creep I am, I stay here
breathing her in, in the only way I’m able to without her actually being
here. I told myself I would give her a few days but right now I’ll be lucky if
I last all night without her. I’ve already gone long enough, and I fucking
miss her. The next few days are going to be hell. I need to distract myself
and luckily, I have a lot of work to do.
The Empire keeps me more than busy at the best of times, and we
always have enemies plotting against us, trying to get their fingers sticky
where they’re not allowed to be. It’s always politicians, opposing mafia
members, people who have a vendetta against us, and we are not short of
those. It is easy enough though, and as the last reigning Elin, my job is to
keep the relationships between the Russian mafia—my distant family, I
guess you could say—and our connections with a few different factions
dotted all over the United States.
Money and drugs speak volumes in this world, and I am fucking good
at my job and have a smart mouth. I can always talk my way out of any
situation—that would usually result in a very high body count and a lot of
angry gang members all over the world.
Call it a gut feeling or intuition or whatever, but something feels off.
Something’s coming.
This is the calm before the storm, and I have a feeling it reeks of
Alexander Grayson.
◆◆◆
Buzzing vibrates my ass cheek, disturbing me from my coma. Slowly
squinting my eyes open, the light violates my vision, my disorientation
palpable when I realize I must have fallen asleep in Emilia’s bed last night.
The towel still wrapped around my waist, I reach under and pull out
my phone, Nate’s name flashes on the screen. What the fuck is he doing
awake?
It’s five in the fucking morning on a Sunday.
“What?” I bark into the phone after hitting accept.
“Something’s fucking wrong, brother.” That gets my attention. I sit up,
swinging my body around till I’m sitting on the edge of Emilia’s bed.
“I know, man. You think it’s your dad fucking around, or something
bigger?” I ask, concern twisting in my stomach. I feel it, which means

248. something is most probably off. We both feel it? Something’s fucking
wrong, not a guess—it’s concrete.
“He’s up to something, man. I went into his office last night after I got
back. I uh…” He stops, I can hear him hesitate over the phone. Nate doesn’t
hesitate over anything.
“You what?” I ask him, not sure if I want to know what he’s unsure
about telling me.
“I found something in his desk drawer. A photo.” He pauses and the
suspense is pissing me off.
“Nate, what fucking photo?” I start pacing the floor, fully awake now
and my pulse thunders beneath my skin, preparing for whatever is coming.
“He has a photo of Emilia.” Nate pauses. “I didn’t even know he knew
who the fuck she was. Hell, I don’t even know much about her apart from
the fact you’ve been fucking her.” I can hear movement on his end, is he
driving? The fuck?
“What fucking photo?” I hear a door slam.
“Looks like she’s about sixteen. Why would he even have a photo of
her? No offense, man, but she doesn’t mean shit in our world—”
“Yeah. I don’t know, but something’s not right. Ready to do some
digging?” I ask, irritation and anxiety swimming around my body as I make
a dent in the floor with all the pacing I’m doing.
“Yup. We still on for Thursday? I need a fucking sesh, man.” A heavy
exhale leaves him,
“Sounds good. You okay?” I ask as I make my way back to my room.
I’m wide awake and there is no way I’ll be getting any sleep now. We don’t
usually do the whole feelings shit, but I know when something is bothering
him. Despite what a lot of people think, Nate and I aren’t actually big
drinkers. It’s a good stress reliever sure, but we don’t overindulge like the
majority of privileged assholes we know.
Losing grip on our control is not an option, so Nate actively wanting to
go out and get wasted is out of character.
“You know me, man, all good here. Just playing with fire and got a
little burned.” He laughs but it lacks any emotion. “You good, man?
Anything from your girl?” he asks, deflecting the attention away from
himself—a classic Nate move.
“No, nothing. Gonna give her some time, not much though.” We both
laugh because yeah, we both know how much of a patient man I am,

249. especially when it comes to getting something I want.
“Right. Time. I’m coming by the office tomorrow. We can discuss dear
old dad then. See you then,” Nate tells me, then I end the call, readying
myself for the day.
Priority number one, after checking my phone again to make sure I
haven’t missed any calls or texts from Emilia—which I didn’t—is to grab
my cock, pumping it till I come in my hand, imagining that it’s all over
Emilia’s perfect tits.

250. CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Emilia
The last few days have gone by in a blur, and I have literally been so bored
out of my mind I contemplated going back to college, grovelling a little and
pretending I had a funny five minutes. I didn’t in the end; what I did do was
take out all of pent-up energy out in the home gym at Melody’s. I have been
needing this for a long time and had only just realized Lukas had one, and
then everything turned to shit.

251. I’ve spent every day in here, running until I can’t feel my legs, beating
the punching bag until my fingers and my wrists ache in the gloves. I’ve
watched a few self-defense videos and worked out a little with Mel, who
started teaching me how to throw knives. Because my best friend fucking
knife throws like it’s a normal hobby. Maybe in her world it is, and if I am
completely honest, I actually love it. It’s only been a few days, but I feel
like I’m getting on pretty well. I have a few cuts on my hands from missed
calculations when I have tried to be a smartass and spin the blade between
my fingers, which is harder than it might look.
It’s Thursday now, and Mel and I decided last night that we are going
out tonight. We both need to let our hair down and have some fun.
Something’s up with Mel too, I can see it when she thinks I’m not
looking. She is constantly on her phone, a frown etched in place,
somberness filling her eyes.
After realizing I’ve been practicing with the knives for a solid six
hours and taking a shower, I run downstairs to grab something to eat before
Mel gets home.
Mr. and Mrs. Carmichael are almost never here. I can count on one
hand the number of times I’ve seen them, and that’s including the two times
they were hosting their beloved charity events, any excuse to boast their
riches. Mr. Carmichael doesn’t seem too bad, he is more like a shadow
though—barely there and if he is, it’s fleeting and tedious, but bearable.
Mrs. Carmichael, however, is like a screeching alarm clock that you don’t
waste any time hitting to silence as fast as humanly possible. If only hitting
her in real life would shut her up, but a girl can fantasize.
I wolf down a sandwich and grab a bottle of water before making my
way back upstairs. Just as I’m rounding the corner, the front door flies open
wide with so much force it hits the wall sending a photo crashing to the
floor. I watch as my best friend marches in, murder in her eyes.
“That fucking asshole! I swear to God if I see either of their faces
again, they won’t have a face left!” she shouts, her voice echoing
throughout the house.
“I might need a little more than that, babe. Who are we defacing and
why?” I ask, starting up the stairs with Mel right behind.
“I can’t even think about it without wanting to vomit.” Mel deflects
and doesn’t answer my question, throwing her bag into her closet and

252. pulling out her hair tie, the strawberry blonde locks falling down past her
shoulders in waves.
“So… we still going out or—” I ask, unsure of her mood.
“Damn fucking right we are. We are going to La Rouge. We are going
to drink, dance, grind up on some hot ass men and we are going to have fun,
and look hot as shit while we do it!”
I still don’t know what happened, but I’m going to guess that this has
Lukas’s friend Nate’s name written all over it. This is out of character for
Mel. She doesn’t care this much about a lot of things, especially when it
comes to a guy.
The only other time I remember Mel being really affected by a boy
was in high school. I hadn’t met him, and she didn’t want to talk about it
much. I just knew he was a dick to her, a bully, and made her school life
hell.
I always kept to myself, hiding away in the library, very much the
introvert which I still am, so I never witnessed any of the events that upset
Melody so much. Then after Alexis had gone missing, I shut myself off to
the world for a very long time and would barely go out.
◆◆◆
A couple of hours and a dozen shots later, we are standing beside one
another in the full-length mirror, once again admiring our not too shabby
hair and makeup skills, and by that, I mean they are fucking amazing.
We went all out tonight. Mel’s wearing a strapless, sweetheart fitted,
black jumpsuit. Her hair sleek and dead straight down to her tailbone. She
went for a neutral lip and sparkly navy-blue eyes. She grabs her heels from
the floor, struggling to balance as she hops around trying to fit her stiletto
onto her foot. I snigger as she wobbles around. Glancing back at my
reflection, I feel disconnected from the girl staring back at me. She looks
confident, perfect, standing next to her knockout of a best friend. She
resembles everything I want to be, everything I want to embody right now,
and maybe I can. Maybe for tonight I can be free, whatever that means.
I run my hands down my body, over my little black dress that Mel
insisted I get, and I’m not mad at her for it. It’s a Hervé Léger, and it hugs
my body in all the right places, accentuating my hips and little waist.

253. My hair has been expertly spun into a fishtail braid that hangs over my
left shoulder with some loose wavy tendrils framing my face. Eyes with a
shimmery pearl shade on the lid, a little eyeliner and mascara, with a blood
red lip. We’re a little overdressed for La Rouge tonight, but we don’t care.
Slipping on my figurative mask for the night, I take a deep breath and
hope to God it’s nothing like the last time we went out. No Lukas—no men,
not for me. I send a silent prayer up, setting my intentions for a fun, care-
free night with my girl. Dancing, drinking, laughter, then straight home so
we can fall into our respective drunken comas.
We agree on taking a taxi tonight. There will definitely not be any
designated drivers between the two of us, that’s certain. Our stilettos click
against the marble as we make our way out, and into the cab that is parked
outside of the gates of the Carmichael estate.
“La Rouge please,” Mel tells the driver as we ungracefully slide into
the back seat of the cab, and I try not to flash my thong at the guy in the
driver’s seat with his beady eyes fixated on us through the mirror. I always
find it weird getting in the passenger seat next to the driver—it just doesn’t
make sense to me.
Twenty-five minutes later, we launch ourselves out of the taxi, paying
the driver through the window even though he didn’t deserve a single cent.
I’m surprised we even made it here in one piece. The creep stared in the
mirror for almost the entire journey staring at Melody’s tits, gross.
There are a lot of people here tonight and the entry line curves
around the side of the building. We can hear the thudding of the bass so
clearly from outside, even as I make my way to the back of the line around
the corner of the street. I don’t get far when suddenly I’m gently tugged
back, walking closer to the entrance. I frown, confused at why we aren’t
joining the back of the line like everybody else. Looking at Mel
suspiciously, she purses her lips.
“Now, you know I would never normally do this, but I’m so freaking
desperate, I really need a drink and you’re not about to like what I’m going
to do.” She says, as she pulls me closer to the entrance where the bouncer
refuses the group at the front of the line entry because apparently, they’re at
capacity.
Mel saunters up to the bouncer who could easily be around seven foot
tall and clears her throat capturing his attention away from the group, who
are still whining about being denied entry.

254. Reaching into her bag, Mel pulls out her ID, even though it shows her
real age.
“Melody Carmichael,” she tells him as she waits expectantly. The
bouncer, who resembles a mixture of a pit bull terrier and a boxer dog looks
down at us, his eyes moving up and down over Melody. She pouts her lips
slightly and raises her brow in challenge.
“Mel, they’re at capacity, we can just go wait like—” He reaches
forward and pulls the door open, holding it and waiting for us to enter. Mel
pulls me along behind her as she struts in, her sass well intact. I can imagine
my expression looks rather entertaining right now, confusion strong in my
frown and my lips still form an "O" after being cut off, and also because
I’m a little shocked at Mel.
I know it really isn’t a big deal but using her name to get us in to
anywhere is not her style and is not something she ever does. She really
must be desperate for that drink.
“I have no words for you right now,” I say as I match her steps,
weaving in and out of the people standing around in the club, drinks in hand
ready to forget their own realities for tonight.
It’s a temporary escape, an illusion. No matter how many volumes of
alcohol we drown our livers in, no matter how many pills you pop, it
doesn’t last; and I guess that’s why so many people struggle with addiction,
because the high feels so liberating and so overwhelmingly thrilling, that
when you finally come down the low is too much to bear.
It’s like a homeless person winning an all-inclusive vacation of their
dreams to the most luxurious destination, and then coming home to the bed
made up of carboard and a sleeping bag. The high too good that all you
want is to feel that ecstasy running through your veins again, so you don’t
have to feel the emptiness that is deep down in the brittle of your bones
when your system is void of the high.
Even knowing that, it’s an endless cycle that will never truly fulfil you.
It doesn’t stop so many people from chasing the high. That’s what we’re
doing tonight. Self-destructive? Maybe, but for now we’ll take it because it
is fucking necessary.
By some miracle we find an empty booth in the back corner and
Melody goes to order drinks at the bar. Taking out my phone I scroll
through Facebook and Instagram mindlessly, not even sure why I have
either of the apps, I never post anything. Melody does though and there are

255. a few selfies of us on her Instagram feed, so I keep it mostly because of
that. It’s also fun to stalk people occasionally.
Before I know what I’m doing, I load up Google and type in "Lukas
Elin" and holy shit. It seems while I have been utterly oblivious to his real
identity, I can’t help but gasp at seeing his photos, seeing his face again. It’s
been a few days, but I miss him. I keep scrolling through Google and my
God the man has been with some seriously high-profile people. Famous
actresses, models, and I can’t figure out if the feeling in my chest is pride
that he wants me, or it’s anxiety that he’s been with all these women… and
then me. Does he compare me to them?
That thought fucks me up in more ways than I want right now, so I
instantly shut it down. Everyone has a past right? I can’t get jealous over
this—and the fact that I am jealous, pisses me off more than I care to admit.
Our relationship has been built on a foundation of lies and I don’t
know if I can come back from that. The trust that took all of me to give is
gone, but my heart still beats for him. I notice in almost every photo he
wears the exact same expression, a close-lipped smile. It gives nothing
away and leaves you wanting more. No wonder he is one of America’s most
wanted bachelors, which Mel had told me before.
The thud of a glass hitting wood makes me jump slightly when Mel
places my drink in front of me. Her eyes peer over the top of my phone as
she leans over peeking at the screen. Even from her position she can clearly
see that I’m looking at pictures of Lukas.
Dropping into her seat and picking up the fancy cocktail she ordered
with one of those orange and pink paper umbrellas, which is almost falling
over the side, she brings it up to her mouth and takes a sip.
“Finally, you’re doing what every girl on the planet would have done
in the first five minutes of meeting a guy. Honestly, I feel like you’ve let us
down,” Mel says, full of sarcasm. She smirks when she looks up at me and
makes eyes contact.
Shaking my head at her, I laugh.
“Sorry to disappoint, but even if that was my style, which you know it
isn’t, he still gave me a fake name so…” I don’t finish my sentence because
my words make my point.
“No more boy talk, please?” I raise my glass to hers,
“I second that. Cheers to a night we will never forget, but probably
will.” Mel taps her cocktail glass against my tumbler, the glass clinking

256. melodically as we take a few mouthfuls.
I don’t know why, but her words set off a feeling of unease throughout
my body. An ominous chill darts straight from my head to my toes. It
happens fast but lingers a while, until I shrug it off and sway my hips,
leading us to the dancefloor, ready to move my body.
Sweat beads on my skin as I snake my body around, letting my hips
take the lead as they always do. The sound of Reggaeton does something to
my body, the rhythms and the beats set me off. Mel is mimicking my
movements with her own, hips in full swing. It’s the Spanish music. I think
it releases some hidden Latina goddess within us, even though that’s
inherently impossible. I can’t explain it, but it feels electric.
My bourbon is hitting me harder than usual tonight. I only had a
double, but my vision is starting to blur a little. I blink my eyes several
times hoping to clear it, but it doesn’t help to clarify my surroundings.
Some guy in a hoodie approaches Mel and grabs her arm. But before she
can respond. I’m already in his space telling him to fuck off. Who wears a
hoodie in a club that is like a thousand degrees?
He backs off a little, but I think I can make out a creepy smirk across
his mouth before he turns and walks away through the writhing bodies. It
sends an ice-cold sensation through me and I can’t explain why.
“Who the fuck wears a hoodie in a club?” Mel asks, voicing my exact
thoughts.
“Right?” I agree.
“I’m going to go to the bathroom, the bourbon hit me harder than
usual, but I didn’t eat much today so that’s probably why. Can you get me
some water?” I ask, as Mel nods watching me, a slither of concern in her
eyes.
“Yeah sure, I think I need one too. I’ll meet you back in our booth?” I
nod before making my way to the bathrooms, located right at the back of
the club, around to the left where the back doors for deliveries are. I know
this because I would walk by La Rouge a lot when I was posting flyers
around town searching for Alexis and would see the deliveries passing
through the back.
I stumble a few times on my way, my stilettos not helping my
chances of not breaking my ankles. I make it to the bathroom door, my legs
feeling like jelly, and I can’t feel much except for the tingles flowing
through them.

257. I need air badly. The sweat now dripping from my body as if I have a
fever, or I’m going into shock. Am I getting sick?
The back exit door is next to the ladies’ bathroom and I decide then
that I need fresh oxygen more than I need to pee, which isn’t at all actually.
I need privacy more than anything, but my breathing is getting shallower by
the second, I pray it doesn’t set some kind of alarm off, but I don’t care.
Pushing the door handle down and throwing the door open with as
much strength as I have, I grab onto the door frame for support. Thankfully
there’s a railing lit up by the dim yellow light, but I can only make out
shadows and shapes. I pat my hands against the flat, rough surface behind
me that must be the wall, and slowly lower myself to the ground.
My head hangs low between my bare knees, I suck in desperate, deep
breaths and continue to blink my eyes rapidly, hoping for them to clear. I
know something is wrong and can feel it cemented like a weight pinning me
to the floor. My ears fill with the thudding of my blood pumping around my
body, and nothing else exists outside of that sound. Everything inside of me
senses threat. I’m outside alone, the door is closed, and I can’t move my
body. It isn’t the alcohol and I know that because my head is clear, I can
think straight. I’ve been drugged.
Fuck—I don’t have my phone so can’t call for help and even if I did, I
don’t think my hands would be able to operate it, but at least I could try. I
try to call out but only a whimper escapes my lips; combined with the
breathlessness, lack of movement in my body and the gradual loss of my
sight, I’m fucking useless.
A crunching sound breaks through the repetitive thudding of blood in
my ears, startling me, though you wouldn’t know because despite my brain
trying to fire off orders and action, it is mute against the effects of the
drugs. I’m unable to move anything apart from my head. I tilt it up toward
the sound, my heartbeat erratic and my skin clammy.
The air changes around me into something dark and sinister, and
through the blurry haze I can make out a dark figure. I don’t know if I’m
hallucinating but the one figure transforms into two. I am already pressed
into the wall so much that the rough stones scrape against the bare skin
exposed at my shoulders and my back, the thin material of my dress doing
nothing to shield me from the harsh edges.
There’s nowhere for me to go, and my breathing increases with each
step the shadows take toward me. One is smaller than the other, quite

258. noticeably, but I don’t care because every instinct firing through my body
tells me they are dangerous, that they mean to cause harm.
The larger, taller shadow crouches down until it is hovering in front of
me. All I can see is black, but I know it’s a man—a man with a strong,
impeccable jawline so sharp it cuts through my blurred vision. He tilts his
head as if he is talking to the shadow behind him without actually turning.
“How much did you give her?” he asks, his voice sounds distorted but
that’s probably just me.
My body shivers violently now that it has registered the sudden change
from hot to cold, or maybe it’s trying every trick to protect me, and I hope
the aggressive and feverous tremors of my body are enough to freak them
out and send them running. I know better though. They aren’t going
anywhere.
“Enough,” shadow number two says, the voice at a much higher pitch
—a woman.
Why do they want me?
Who are they?
I just want to go home. I want to be safe and warm, loved and
protected.
Mel is going to be panicking, losing her fucking mind. I’ve just
vanished, and nobody knows where I am.
“Please,” I beg, but it comes out as more of a sigh than an actual word,
but he hears it. The man’s face moves closer, until his face is a blurred
masterpiece only a few inches away from mine.
“It’s nothing personal, sweetheart,” he whispers to me, before he
moves fast, and everything turns dark.
◆◆◆
A bump jolts my body violently and I can’t see anything. I feel
vibrations underneath me, and the humming of an engine. I’m in a car,
they’re taking me somewhere.
Trying not to panic and hyperventilate, I take slow, deep breaths
through the material that covers my entire face. It isn’t tight but it is pitch
black and I’m in no better state than I was before, when my vision was
hazy.

259. Another bump jolts my body. I am so cold but at least I’m no longer
outside, although I would much rather be outside with more of a chance to
escape, than being carted off to God knows where with shadows one and
two.
My thoughts are interrupted when I hear them speak.
“What about the other one, did you get her?”
The masculine deep voice rumbles through the vehicle all the way
into my bones—it sounds oddly familiar, but I can’t put my finger on why.
“Do I ever disappoint?” the female voice responds and it’s smug. I can
hear it in her voice—which again sounds weirdly familiar, but I’ve been
drugged so my mind is most probably fucking with me. Who is he talking
about?
Everything is hazy and sounds a little distorted still, not as bad as it
was before—which makes me question how long we’ve been driving and
where we are going. Another jolt throws my body but propels me forward
—or back maybe, slamming into something hard. I feel a sharp pain in my
temple and I’m out.

260. CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Emilia
There are moments, those few seconds when you wake up from a deep
sleep where your mind doesn’t register its surroundings just yet. Those
moments are the ones where we often question if the dreams we had in our
subconscious was real or only a dream. This is not one of those moments.
Pain ricochets through my ribs vibrating every bone with agony as a
blunt force hits into my side again and again. I scream out clutching my

261. side where the burn is; it feels like someone is continuously booting me in
my ribs and it fucking hurts.
A door opens somewhere, and I swear I hear a low growl. It stops for a
moment and I suck in a breath, squeezing my eyes shut trying to stop the
tears.
I hear movement again and my entire body tenses, waiting to be
struck, but it doesn’t come. Instead, the material covering my face is ripped
off taking me from blackness to a dark, cold and dimly lit room. I blink a
few times, the tears falling down from the corners of my eyes wetting my
face, and I lie on the stone-cold concrete floor.
It looks almost like a jail cell but it’s an open space, across the room I
can see a single wooden chair placed centrally and directly beneath one
swinging light bulb. That is the only source of light I can find.
I throw my head back, startled when a finger touches my face,
stroking my tears away. It’s not an act of empathy though, the touch is
rough. It’s an act of malice in the most manipulative form. If someone was
to look they might see tenderness, but I don’t. Especially when in the next
second the same hands grab me, pulling me upright and drag me to my feet
until I am directly above the chair. They push me down violently, and I
almost tumble to the floor with the chair underneath me. My body is still
disorientated and unable to coordinate simple movements after being
drugged.
I realize then that I have no shoes on, only my dress and my underwear
and that’s it, and I don’t know if my body has adjusted somehow but at least
I’m no longer shivering.
Black boots come into view and when they are a few feet away from
my naked legs, they stop. It takes all of my energy to lift my head and meet
the gaze of the person in front of me, but when I do, I am almost
disappointed.
“Hey, sis.” Alexis stands in front of me, her voice dripping in
arrogance and poison. She is wearing all black—jeans, a hoodie, and black
boots with a ridiculous mask covering her eyes. If she wants to protect her
identity, I might suggest she not say the one thing that blatantly gives it
away.
“I have a surprise for you.” She crouches down and screws her face up
a little. “Though I’m not sure you’re gonna like it” Standing back up to her

262. full height she pulls out a radio walkie talkie, holding down the button and
speaking into it.
“All ready for you,” she tells the radio. Who is she, GI Jane?
“Nice radio,” I tell her unable to resist. Alexis scowls, plastering the
biggest fake smile on her mouth before swinging the radio back and
smacking it straight into my right cheek.
Fuck! My face stings and I’m pretty sure I can feel something warm
running down my cheek. The bitch made me fucking bleed.
A door swings open and two men clad in all black, the same as Alexis,
stride inside until they stand a foot in front of the chair I was thrown in. My
attention is pulled in the other direction to the other side of the room, close
to where I had been lying before. I can see a shadow in the dark and hear
shuffling coming from the same place.
“Emilia?” The raspy and uneven voice that’s whispered, sends a crack
through my chest. Why the fuck have they got Melody here? I move to shift
my body but only end up swaying the tiniest bit.
“Mel, it’s okay, we’re okay—” I’m cut off by a high pitched cackle
and a low chuckle, my head snapping in their direction. One of the men
looks built like a football player and is almost as tall as a basketball player.
I can’t see his face though, as the top of his hoodie hangs low, only
exposing the tip of his nose, his lips and chin. The other man is a lot shorter
and rounder. He looks like he has a beer belly and completely the opposite
of the man standing a few feet away from him. It’s he who is laughing
along with Alexis, the other man is silent.
The shorter man takes several steps closer to Melody until he is only
two feet away and I am instantly on high alert.
“There isn’t much use in lying to her.” My hairs stand on end, an
outbreak of goosebumps all over my body. And my breathing falters when I
hear the next voice—the same voice that has haunted me for years, the
voice that belongs to the man who put his hands on my body so many times
that I wanted to scrape off every layer until there was no trace of his touch
ever on my skin.
I used to count the number of bruises he would leave after he was done
with me, and I would take it all again for him to leave Melody the fuck
alone. He moves closer, his dirty and defiled fingers brushing over
Melody’s bare shoulder and down her arm. I watch her visibly shudder at
his touch. She knows what he used to do to me. I’m certain Mel can’t move

263. very much either because I know that if she could, Robert wouldn’t be
breathing.
Mel growls when he pulls out a knife and slices the material of her
jumpsuit from her ankle all the way up to her thigh. She hisses through her
teeth when he cuts her skin a little. He then moves to the other leg to do the
same and fear and rage reverberates through me to my bones. Mel struggles
to move away from him and the murderous promise in her eyes gives a
whole new meaning to the term death glare.
“Robert, I swear to God if you touch her, I will rip your fucking dick
off and make you choke on it!” I seethe.
I hear a snigger from the taller man and another high-pitched cackle
coming out of Alexis’s mouth.
“I think you might be a little compromised right now… you know, not
being able to move and all.” I want to smack the bitch into next week.
The taller man still stands a few feet away from me and clears his
throat.
“Everybody out, I need a minute alone with her,” he orders, stroking
his razor-sharp jawline with his fingers as Alexis and Robert do as they’re
told and walk out. Good little dogs. For a brief moment I’m grateful,
because at least Robert is gone, for now.
I should be terrified—any normal person would be, but I’m not. I
know how these people work. I’ve had to endure them for most of my life.
Granted, everything with Alexis was unexpected but Robert, I am not afraid
of him anymore, only of what he might do to Melody. The one thing that
makes me nervous though is the reason—why we are here, and why he is
here—with Alexis of all people.
It’s so dark in here that it’s almost impossible to make anyone’s
features out. The only way I knew it was Alexis and Robert was from her
idiocy and Robert’s voice.
I know this man’s voice though, it’s so familiar—almost too familiar
but I don’t let my mind take me on that path because that’s impossible. He
takes a few steps closer, looking over his shoulder making sure we’re alone
and the thought of being on my own with him rattles my nerves.
“What do you know about your father, Emilia?” The question confuses
me. I frown in response.
“I never met him,” which is the complete truth. As far as I’m aware, I
have never met my father and when I flashback to the memory I had the

264. other night, I know that I never want to meet him.
His arms fold across his chest, his biceps huge from what I can make
out in the shadows.
“Do I know you?” I ask, my curiosity winning out over any logical
emotion—such as fear, which is what I should be shaking in when I am in a
literal hostage situation. I’m unsure why, but I don’t feel like this man will
hurt me, I feel like I know him.
His laughter jolts me out of my head and back to the dingy, cold and
empty space I’m sitting in. The lightbulb hanging above me starts to flicker
and with each blink of the light, he is a step closer. He leans down and
brings his hand to my face, his thumb gently sweeping across my
cheekbone. The touch so tender my mind races, my pulse picking up until I
feel it thudding in my chest.
“Mm, I know you… but it’s been a while.” His voice is too familiar,
and when he removes his hood, he cracks my heart open, splitting it to the
core.
The word leaves my mouth and I pray that I’m wrong, that I’m still
hallucinating as a side effect of the drugs.
“L… Lukas?” I croak, silently praying that it isn’t him, this man
standing right in front of me in the shadows, with the sharp jawline and
cheekbones, the dark hair, almost black in the dim light. The man who is the
doppelgänger of the one who holds my heart.
He tuts, his lips turning up at the sides, “Close, but not quite. I’ll give
you a hint… Have you been taking care of my locket?” I try to think, try to
piece it all together—my mind moving a mile a minute, but it’s interrupted.
I hear a loud bang as the door is thrown open cracking against the wall.
Alexis charges in, looking like a deranged maniac, her eyes demonic as she
takes in his proximity to me, his fingers lingering close to my skin, his lips
only a few inches away from mine.
“You can’t have him! You can’t have them both!” she screeches,
charging toward me. Alexis moves fast, and that’s when I see the barrel of
the gun pointed straight at me.
They move in slow motion and all I see is Mel and Alexis. Melody
twists her body and moves to her feet, still struggling, her limbs floppy. She
grabs Alexis by her arms yanking her back, swinging her body in front of
her, all I see is her back. Lukas comes closer to me as if he is shielding me.

265. He hovers over me and suddenly the puzzle pieces fit into place, the locket.
It belonged to Lukas, and…
“Elijah?”
My back connects with the cold, hard concrete. Pain ricochets through
my body as two shots ring out, echoing in the eery silence...
And the darkness turns to black.

266. To be continued…

267. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Oh fuck! So that just happened. I honestly have no idea where to
start, so I guess I’ll start at the beginning. Last year (2020) during the
pandemic, Emilia and Lukas would not leave me alone until I wrote their
story—well the first part of it—And I truly would not have been able to
write this book without my bestie Jessie. You listened to every single idea,
problem, crazy plot twist, and all of the extremely enthusiastic voice
messages at 3am. You’ve been my go-to girl since the moment I knew I was
going to write this book, and I couldn’t have done it without you. I’m pretty
certain we are the same person and are always on each other’s wavelength
which made this entire process the absolute best! I love you.
To Emma, my wifey. Thank you for all of your advice, you are the
best business savvy queen and such an amazing friend, author, and
Godmummy to Bella.
To Betty who helped me so much with this entire process, even
though you’re a new author yourself, you still did all you could to help me,
and I appreciate you so much babe, thank you!
To my Beta readers, Janell, Haley, Betty, Sim, and Jessie –
THANK YOU! Honestly you guys have no idea how much you helped
me with this story. I appreciate every second of your time spent reading
my first book, all your feedback, and your threats (Janell, I’m looking
at you! LOL). I am truly touched by your passion and your love for
these characters, who I adore so much, and who have become such a
huge part of me. I’m so excited to continue working with you for the
next book and all the rest to come!
To Sarah Plocher, my amazing editor! Seriously, without you this
book would be a hot mess! I am so grateful to have been able to work with
you, you’re a magician LOL! I appreciate you and look forward to working
with you soon.
To my awesome proof-reader Amy briggs, who saved my life last
minute and was able to fit me into her busy schedule and even worked on
this book during her vacation! I am so grateful to have found you. I look
forward to working with you in the future!

268. To Ramzi, thank you so much for the incredible work you did
formatting my paperback. I totally manifested you, and you have no idea
how much of a godsend you are by helping me with this as I'm not too tech
or design savvy! I appreciate you and look forward to all of your amazing
books to come. Hopefully we can work together again soon!
Last, but most certainly not least, thank you to my beautiful readers.
To have you take a chance on me and my storytelling means so much! I am
so overwhelmed with the support this community has shown me, and as a
new author it truly means the world to have you put your faith in me. I hope
you enjoyed the first part of Emilia and Lukas’s story. This is only the
beginning…

269. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
SELINA MARIE
Author of The Secrets We Keep (Secrets and Revelations Book one).
Selina Marie is a British author of New Adult & Dark Romance. She
lives with her two daughters, fiance, and kitten in the South of England.
Selina drinks way too much tea and loves to gently torture her readers with
plot twists that will make you want to throw things at her face. Selina brings
you angsty, sexy, dangerous bad boys with a twist, and badass heroines
you'll fall in love with.
Thank you for joining me on this wild ride! I hope you enjoy!
Connect with Selina
On her Facebook page:
https://www.facebook.com/Selinamarieauthor
Join Selina’s Facebook Readers group - Dark Angels | Selina Marie Reader
Group:
https://www.facebook.com/groups/829705430942757
Connect on Instagram:
https://www.instagram.com/selinamarieauthor/