“Talk to the police and go home, Ophelia,” he orders me, turning for the door. “I won’t be bothering you again.”
“It doesn’t make any sense,” I mutter, my eyes darting to connect the dots. “You said you loved my mother. But what about me? Does finally meeting me mean nothing to you?”
I see him shake his head with his back turned, but he won’t look at me. “I know I’ve done too much damage,” he answers with quiet resolve. “You and your mom are better off with Brendan. Without me. I’ve been working your whole life toward what transpired today. And now that it’s over…it’s time for me to go.”
“What will you do?” I ask, fighting back bewildered tears. I don’t want to care, but some primal part of me still does.
“You don’t need to concern yourself with that,” he reaches for the door handle, pausing one last time to glance over his shoulder, his eyes still not meeting mine. “I’m going to make sure you’re taken care of, Ophelia. You’ll go back to WJ Prep on scholarship, and if you need anything after that for college…I’ll see that it gets taken care of.”
“What do I tell Mom?” I suggest, wondering if she has any idea he’s been lingering around Jameson this whole time. But he doesn’t answer. Just like that, he’s gone again.
I liked it bet
ter before when I never thought twice about him. Now I’ll always be afraid of when he might pop up again, and what kind of havoc it might wreak on my life.
My mind jolts back to action mode. I am ready to go home, but first I have to talk to the police. Which means talking to Emmett. I pull myself up from my chair and head for the door, not surprised to see him waiting for me just outside.
I’m just about to fly right past him when he yanks me back, pushing me against the wall. His icy gray eyes burning into me intensely.
I try to look anywhere else. I’m too raw to look him in the eyes right now. But he desperately bobs his head to force himself in my way. I still can’t deny how handsome he is, even after everything. Even though he is a sweaty, disheveled mess just like me.
“Kiss me,” he pleads harshly, pressing his face to mine. His breath is hot and frantic. “Please, Ophelia. Before we go back out there. I need to feel close to you again.”
“You’re fucking crazy!” I cry and squirm in his arms. “I’d rather die.”
He leans into me anyway, the strain in his pants giving away how much he wants me. I see it burning him from the inside out, and I feel the same way. Whatever this thing is between us will eat us both alive if I don’t put a stop to it. Especially now with no outside forces standing in our way.
Is he angry because he can’t have me? Because I’m not giving in to him as easily as he is probably used to? The moment he had me before, he turned cold again. Without my resistance, he’s uninterested. I still and search his face, exasperated with how much I still don’t understand about him.
“I’m begging you,” he murmurs softly. “Please, just one more taste of you. Before we have to face everything out there.”
His words draw me in. I can’t deny how nice it would be to give in to him one last time before we walk out into whatever happens next. When I intend to fully put him out of my life altogether. Nothing about my feelings for him have changed. Still just as wanton and helpless as day one. I need him and am repulsed by him all at once. He scares me, but I want to give myself over to him completely.
My heart stings with an afterthought. I want to torture him the way he’s tortured me. And that desire rises quickly above everything else. “You’ll never taste me again,” I growl sternly, looking straight at him in pure coldness. His brows raise to my quivering voice. “You’ll never have any part of me again.”
He raises a hand, and I don’t know if he’ll hit me or force me into his kiss anyway. But instead his forehead drops to the wall above my shoulder. Like he’s completely broken.
“Never say never, Ophelia,” he whispers into my neck before pulling away. “There’s too much between us for you just to walk away from.”
“Is there?” I question defiantly, steadying my voice. “There’s nothing between us. You’ve tormented me, Emmett. Your family and friends did too, and you’re no better than them. I see that now. I don’t care what anyone else says. I’ve looked into your eyes and have seen nothing. The same cold, empty, blank stare of your father.”
“That’s not true,” he snivels, shaking his head to block out my words. “You know it’s not true. Everything I’ve done up until now…none of that was the real me. Just the small moments we shared when we both gave in…when everything else fell away. That’s all you really know of me. And I can show you so much more.”
His words instantly slice through my resolve, pulling me in as his lips brush my cheek. I want so badly to make him hurt, and I can’t seem to convince myself that what he’s feeling now is hurt enough. It can’t be if he’s still insisting he’s entitled to me somehow. A truly sorry man would just walk away and let me be, just like my father did.
His lips melt to mine as I surrender one last time. Everything inside of me screaming to push him away, but I’m paralyzed. Finally I hear sirens wailing outside, and I’m surprised it’s taken this long. “We have to go soon, Emmett,” I remind him, thankful for the escape as our lips part. “Do you know what we’re supposed to say?”
“I want to talk to you after,” he insists again.
“Emmett, no!” I beg against his persistence. “Please…why can’t you just let me go…”
“I don’t know,” he rasps. “But I can’t. Not like this.”
I see the red and blue flashing lights reflecting through the front windows and know we’re out of time. My fingers pull to the wet circles under my eyes, and I try to smooth back my hair. It’s no use. I’m a mess. We both are.
“I’ll explain everything,” he maintains, pulling back to straighten his shirt and put on a composed face. “You’ll see. You have to listen to me.”
Without another word, he walks confidently out into the foyer. I want to remind him he’d do well not to act so put together this time. He did just see his father die. A fact that will make the police suspicious if he’s not distraught enough, even if it’s fake. But I quickly remember he doesn’t have to worry about things like that. Not really. Whatever his own personal sway and power doesn’t take care of, my father’s influence will.