Claiming Amber (A Broken Heart Book 2) Page 15

“I am alive. For the first time in a long time, I actually feel alive. There are more ways than one to be dead, and I can’t go back to that, Emmett, not when I’m finally–alive.” My hands had balled themselves into fists. “Don’t ask me to do that,” I bit my lip trying to keep my emotions at bay. I wasn’t an emotional kind of girl, but around him, I found it hard to keep a grip on everything.

  Emmett took a step towards me. “Okay.”

  “Okay?” I repeated stupidly. I was shocked for like the hundredth time around him. I couldn’t predict anything with him.

  “I know exactly what you mean, but if you stay, you stay here, with me,” he was pointing at the floor.

  I needed to clarify. “You mean the hotel,” I asked, and he gave me a sharp smile.

  “No Amber, I mean here in my penthouse, with me.”

  “No, I promise I will stay in my hotel room, Michael will watch me.”

  But as I spoke Emmett shook his head, his mind already made up. “Every promise you made, you broke. So, no.” Well, shit on a stick, I had. Never on purpose, though…okay, that was a lie. A knock at the door had our conversation ending. Emmett left the room, but paused at the door. “What was the thing that made you feel alive again?” he asked without looking back at me.

  “I’m not sure,” I lied. He glanced at me and gave me a brief nod before leaving. That was the first time in my life I acted like a coward.

  It was Matthew at the door, with two suitcases. He didn’t show any surprise at finding me here, in Emmett’s shirt. Instead, he greeted me like we were old friends. I felt more vulnerable with him now than I would when I was dressed. I tried to give him a smile, one that Emmett could clearly see through, as he watched me with a question in his eyes. I took my suitcases and made my way to the guest room that Emmett had said would be mine while I stayed with him.

  Once dressed, I heard the door close and hoped that meant Matthew was gone. I went in search of Emmett, and I found him alone. He stared out one of his huge windows, his hands in his pockets. Watching him watching the world below us made me see him as such a remarkable man. What he had built and the position he found himself in. I wanted his respect, which wasn’t something I normally wanted from people. But I wanted his.

  “I lied to you earlier,” I said as my stomach twisted. Emmett turned to me, his face relaxed. It was such a different look on him, one that had my stupid heart pounding. “When you asked me what it was that made me feel alive again,” I said to clarify as he stood still.

  He gave me a brief nod before speaking. “You said you weren’t sure,” he said back, and I kept my head high as I spoke.

  “You are what has made me feel alive again,” I said.

  Removing one hand from his pocket, he rubbed his jaw, looking at me with hooded eyes. “I love your honesty,” he finally said with a smile. The word ‘love’ was doing funny things to me.

  “Good.” I responded, while smiling like a fool.

  “I want to show you something,” he said, his smile gone. His head tilted slightly with the look I had seen before when he was opening up. It made him look vulnerable. I took his outstretched hand, and he threaded his fingers through mine, sending my pulse into overdrive. He paused, staring at me for a moment before leading me through the penthouse.

  “You’re not going to take me to a torture room or something,” I said, half serious. He had admitted to killing people, after all, a fact that should seriously bother me, but didn’t.

  Emmett glanced back at me, with a spark in his eyes and a wicked smile. “Would you like that, Amber?” I tried not to fall over my feet. He was flirting, what could a girl do? Only flirt back.

  “Let me see the room first, and I’ll tell you.” The small, short laugh that burst from his delicious mouth had warmth spreading in hidden areas inside me. We stopped at a set of double doors. I couldn’t see Emmett’s face, but his grip on my hand had tightened, and his shoulders tensed. I hadn’t a clue what to expect when he opened the doors.

  But what I did see when he opened the door not only surprised me, it took my breath away. Canvases sat lined against one wall, while an easel like the size of five normal ones sat in the middle of the room. Workbenches sat to my left, filled with brushes, paints, and bare canvases. I moved into the room, and Emmett let go of my hand as I walked to the painting he was working on. I think this kind of art was called abstract. To me, usually it looked like someone got a few cans of paint, and splashed them across a canvas, but this—this was different. My throat tightened looking at it, the emotion of sadness almost choking me. I couldn’t tell you why, but the browns, reds, and blacks meshed so perfectly on the page. It was Emmett, dark, broken, dangerous. It was like looking into his soul. I could feel him behind me. “It’s beautiful,” I told him without looking back.

  “Painting is something I used to do when I was young. But I haven’t for a few years now.” I looked back at him. He wasn’t looking at me, but the easel, his eyes so haunted. My hand rose and rested on his chest as he looked down at me, the memories that haunted him leaving. “I started again three weeks ago.” I swallowed and nodded. His hands reached up, touching either side of my head. “You, Amber, you made me feel alive again, as well.” His eyes lowered to my lips, and I wetted them, my heart ready to explode at his words. To think I had an impact on someone like him was hard to comprehend.

  This time, when Emmett kissed me, it wasn’t soft or slow. His kiss was demanding, his tongue gaining entry into my mouth, and I moaned. Pulling up his t-shirt, my hands roamed across his toned stomach. Another moan escaped me, the sound making Emmett kiss me wildly, almost frantically. I was in his arms, my legs around his waist, his hands grabbing my arse within a second. The kiss wasn’t broken, and I pushed my aching body against his hardness as he moved us so I was against a wall.

  It was distant, the ringing of the phone. I groaned as Emmett continued to kiss me, but he could hear it, too and finally, he pulled away, leaning his forehead reluctantly against mine as we both tried to catch our breaths. “I need to go,” he said this with his eyes closed and his brows furrowed.

  “No, just ignore it,” I told him, pleading. He opened his eyes and smiled at me. “What? You like hearing the agony in my voice?” I said before kissing his jawline. This time, he moaned. I didn’t care that I sounded needy, I seriously didn’t want this to end.

  “Amber.” My name was said with ecstasy…no, I realized, it was said with regret. When I stopped kissing him, he lowered me to the ground. “I’m sorry, but I really have to go.”

  I nodded, trying to sort through my feelings. Disappointment and hurt sat right at the front, waving little flags. “Then go,” I told him. I wasn’t going to say it was okay because it wasn’t, and my body right now was anything but okay. His smile caught me off guard. Before I could ask, he leaned in and kissed me.

  “I’ll make it up to you later.”

  That lifted my spirits and made me feel all kinds of funny inside. “Okay then,” I told him with a smile. He studied me for another moment, his phone ringing again. A soft kiss was placed on my lips before he left me feeling off-kilter in a room filled with his tortured past.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  EMMETT

  “WHAT?”

  My father laughed. “That’s how you answer your phone, son?” I wanted to tell him to stop calling me son, but it would be pointless.

  “We are waiting for you. Did you forget about our arrangement?”

  “No. I’ll be there soon.” I closed the phone as I got into my car. Leaving the hotel, I drove the short distance to one of my father’s clubs.

  Women danced around poles scattered around the room, fully clothed. They stopped briefly, with watchful eyes as I entered, none of them greeting me. They would practice here throughout the day for tonight’s entertainment. “Lower Marcella, you want them to want you,” Julie, one of the top dancers who was in her late fifties, taught the newcomers how to dance. I glanced at her, sensing her eyes on me. “Nice to see
you,” she said, smiling. Julie was genuine, and I didn’t seem to scare her. I never acknowledged her, yet she always greeted me.

  “You too, Julie,” I said. She smiled and returned to Marcella.

  “Again, Marcella.” I heard her say as I left the main room and made my way to the back. Two of my father’s men stood on either side of the single door that I entered.

  “Ah, my son…” My father got up from behind his desk, throwing pretend punches. “…my fighter,” he said, straightening up before embracing me. Two of the men in the room smiled at us. Two men, I had made very rich for throwing the fight—a favor they had asked of my father, and he would have me do it just for fun, more than loyalty to these men. I stood still, not returning my father’s hug. I was struggling not to punch him. He leaned back. “No love for your father?” I didn't respond, and he sat down, holding his hands up. “Okay. Sit, son.”

  I did, facing all three men.

  “Thank you, Emmett, for what you did.” I nodded at Dan as Vinny thanked me, too. He didn’t sound as thankful as Dan, but I really didn’t give a shit. These men were no better than my father and in no way did I want their admiration or their respect.

  “There’s another fight that Dan would like you to participate in,” My father sat back, smugly.

  “I don’t want you to throw the fight, I want you to win it,” Dan said.

  “Who? Anyone, I know?” I asked, I didn’t want this to become another situation like Viktor.

  “Just a punk kid who keeps costing me money.” I really didn’t have a choice, as long as I worked for my father again, I had certain criteria to fill, and fighting was one of them. And unfortunately, until I could find a way out, I did work for him again. “It’s tonight, in your father's pits again,” he said.

  A humourless laugh left my mouth. “I’m a bit beat up to start fighting again and win.”

  “We have faith in you, son,” my father clapped his hands together, ending the conversation. “Afterwards, we can celebrate here. Like old times.”

  I nodded, reining in my need to smash his face in. “Is that all?” I asked my father, I wasn’t sure I could keep myself seated much longer.

  “No,” my father’s face grew somber. An act, one I had seen often, and I knew was coming.

  “Silver’s death has left its mark on his father,” Vinny removed his hat and held it to his chest. “Poor bastard.” A moment of silence sat falsely around the room.

  “I promised his father that you would help him find his son’s killer,” My father looked at me, daring me to argue.

  “You want me…to find the man who killed Silver,” I said incredulously. This was a new low, even for my father.

  “We think you are the man for the job,” Dan and Vinny chimed in.

  “Yeah, you are The Hunter, after all,” Dan said.

  I hated that title; it made me feel like a monster. “And when I find him, Father, what should his punishment be?” A warning passed through my father’s eyes.

  “Kill the lowlife, of course,” Dan said.

  “I thought the barman killed Silver?” Vinny asked.

  “He only pulled the trigger. I am looking for the man that gave him the gun,” I said, still looking at my father.

  A tense moment passed before my father slapped the table. “That’s my boy. Go find him, Hunter.” He of all people knew how much I hated that title, but he loved when people called him the Devil, and he seemed even prouder when I was called the Hunter.

  AMBER

  I was bored to tears. Michael had stayed with me. He didn’t even speak to me; he seemed pissed at me giving him the slip. It made me wonder what kind of punishment he had been given.

  I got up off the couch where I had been lying and made my way to the bathroom, Michael heavy on my heels. I turned to close the door, but his foot stopped me. “I’m going to the toilet,” I told him, thinking he would remove his foot, but he didn’t. “Michael, move your foot now.”

  “No. I was told not to let you out of my sight,” he said.

  “I can assure you, Emmett wouldn’t appreciate you watching me going to the toilet.”

  “I’ll turn around,” was his smartass reply. This was stupid.

  “We are like ten floors up. Do you seriously think I’m going to climb out the window and what? Jump?”

  “Door’s not closing,” Michael said, folding his arms. He really wasn’t moving. It was either hold it until Emmett got home, or just go.

  “Fine,” I said, and Michael relaxed. I used the moment and stamped on his foot with all my force, making him shout in pain. Grabbing the door, I slammed it, but Michael’s heavy body slammed against the other side, stopping me from locking it. I lasted two seconds before he pushed the door open.

  “The. Door. Stays. Open.”

  I glared at him for a moment before leaving the bathroom.

  “I’m ringing Emmett,” I said, making my way back to the couch where my phone sat. I didn’t reach it before the elevator doors opened and Emmett walked in. He looked distracted as Michael came rushing after me.

  “Amber,” Michael growled. Emmett’s head snapped up at his tone, Michael stopped, paling. “Mr. Harrington.” The doors closed behind Emmett and he had a dangerous gleam in his eye as he made his way to Michael.

  “Yes?” he asked. Michael looked at me, and I wasn’t one for helping assholes out, but I also didn’t want to witness a murder.

  “I was going to ring you and Michael advised me against it.”

  Emmett wasn’t looking at me; he was still looking holy murder at Michael. “Why?”

  “I wanted to leave, to get some food.” Michael controlled his reaction well, making my lie more truthful.

  Emmett looked at me now. “After everything we talked about?” He sounded disappointed, and that was like a punch in the stomach.

  “I was bringing Michael with me,” I shrugged like it was no big deal. It took Emmett a moment to move, and when he did, he moved around me and sat down on the couch. Michael moved back to the door, where he stood like a statue. ‘You owe me,’ I mouthed, and he shook his head with a look of disbelief on his face.

  Emmett didn’t seem very approachable right at this moment. His stiff posture and clenched hands were a warning not to approach. I wasn’t sure what to do. So, I sat beside him, but not too close, and waited for him to speak.

  But one thing I had learned in the last few weeks was that I wasn’t a very patient person, and he wasn’t a very open person. I knew if I waited for him to open up, I would die of old age. “Anything you want to share?” I said, and he looked at me, his stare hard, not focused. If anger was tangible, I was sure I would have smelled, tasted, and felt it off Emmett.

  “I have to fight tonight,” he said. “But I don’t have to throw it so don’t worry,” he added, his face softening a fraction.

  “I’m going,” I knew before I started that this wouldn’t go well.

  “Amber, now is not the time.” He stood, and so did I.

  “No, it is the perfect time. I’m not sitting here worrying about you, wondering how badly injured you are.”

  “My father was there the last time, if he sees you again…” Now Emmett shook his head. “…no, end of discussion.” I had thought the man in the trench coat looked like an older version of Emmett, but to hear Emmett say it had panic clawing at me. He was the one who had sent the two men after me, the ones who now had possession of my wallet. I was sure of it. I remembered his cold eyes and cold smile and shivered.

  “I promise I will be fine,” Emmett was in front of me, smiling gently, my panic taken wrongly. I knew I sounded like a broken record, but I wasn’t sitting here like a good girl and I told Emmett that. He sighed, “If you come, you must stay with Michael.” My smile had Emmett pausing, maybe rethinking letting me go, so I calmed it down.

  “Fine, I will,” I looked at Michael whose jaw was clenched. Yeah, he hated babysitting me.

  “You need to stay in the centre of the crowd,” E
mmett now looked me up and down as I nodded. “And wear something less–nice,” he added. He gave me one more look before saying. “I better get ready.” Emmett walked away, and I wanted to reach out and stop him, hug him, maybe, but a part of me felt like he needed his space and I had wrecked his head enough. My stomach tightened thinking about the fight, and his father seeing me. I needed to really stay out of sight. He wouldn’t notice me in the middle of a crowded room.

  Emmett didn’t say much as he left, he paused at the door for several seconds, before speaking low to Michael. Maybe giving him instructions. Once he was gone, I got dressed. I found a pair of black jogging pants. I also found a black tank top and a black, light zippy top. Once I had my runners laced up, I tied up my hair before grabbing my phone. A message was there from Emmett. I smiled as I jogged to the door where Michael stood. Opening the message, two words had me halting. “I’m sorry.” My smile faltered.

  And I saw it then, on Michael’s face, Emmett had lied to me.

  “Move,” I ordered Michael, feeling humiliated at being tricked.

  “You didn’t really think he would let you go,” I could hear a certain level of pity in Michael’s voice, which really pissed me off.

  “I saved your ass earlier. You owe me, so step aside.”

  Michael folded his hands in front of him, like a real bodyguard. “You don’t get it. You’re not leaving this penthouse.” The finality in Michael’s words had me turning back around and slamming the door of the bedroom that Emmett had said was mine. I knew I had no right to act like a drama queen, I had broken more promises and betrayed his trust, that was right, but I had believed him, and– it just hurt. Emmett needed me, whether he knew it or not, and I needed for him to understand that I would always be there for him.

  I lay on the bed, seething. I could hear Michael moving around the penthouse and he poked his head in the room a few times to make sure I hadn't left. I was allowed to close the door to this room. At first, I thought Michael had turned sloppy, but after searching the room twice, I resigned myself to the amazing lighting in the room. There were no windows. That’s why Emmett gave me this room. He was crafty.