Chapter 7

Emily

Have you ever wanted something so badly you would kill to get it?

There was no reason the question had formed in my mind over the last few days, other than it felt as if I was living on borrowed time.

Everything had changed in my life, becoming darker, the ominous tone taking on an entirely different meaning after Tyler's murder.

Grief was something I called a weird animal, an occurrence that everyone handled differently. For me, I'd learned to bottle that grief, my father once telling me that despondency was the ultimate weakness that allowed predators to feed from my soul. At eleven, the year my mother had been murdered in cold blood, I'd stared at him in wonderment, a little girl lost and hoping to find some sense of understanding as to why God hated me and my family.

Now that I was almost twenty-three, I'd come to realize that grief was more like having a noose around my neck, something that should be kept very private. Maybe that's why even though the images of Tyler's brutal ending remained locked in the forefront of my mind, I felt nothing.

All those people who said time healed all wounds were fucking lunatics as far as I was concerned. Nothing had healed me after my mother's passing. Not the doctors who'd tried to perform miracles on my psyche or the drugs pumped into my system. And certainly not the cold shoulder my father had shown me. Sure, I'd heard he'd simply shut down after being unable to save my mother, but that didn't make his mistreatment of me okay in my book.

I'd hated him for it but now, I was ambivalent, much like I was about most things.

Except for music.

That's why I was sick inside, pacing the floor as I waited for the concert to begin.

"Fretta. Fretta," my instructor said in Italian, clapping his hands as if the members of the Berklee College of Music orchestra hadn't been told countless times just how important the concert was.

To the man's career.

I often hated Mr. Romero but he was seeking tenure and the rather avant garde program he'd convinced the college administrators would bring in more dollars than the normal year would either make the man a legend, at least in his own mind, or a ridiculous flop. So he was nervous and rightfully so.

Everything hinged on this single performance, the auditorium packed with patrons and sponsors, other professors and even talent agents. I don't know how he'd done it, but Mr. Romero had managed to snag some big names to watch our final performance.

I was nervous as a kitty cat, trying to keep my cool. I had a solo performance, the very one I'd used when applying for a position with the New York Philharmonic Orchestra. I knew it backwards and forwards, capable of playing it in my sleep. However, there was one teensy tiny difference tonight.

My father had taken time off his oh-so busy schedule to come to a single performance of the year. Why? Well, I had my sinking suspicions that he was doing it to try to garner business from the wealthy and influential patrons sitting in the audience. My father never did anything without a reason, and he certainly couldn't care less about his only child.

And still, for some crazy reason, I wanted to continue pleasing him. It was crazy really since my two bodyguards had spent more time with me while growing up than my own father had. Jessup and Carson had been with the family since… Since the incident with my mother, keeping me in a protected shell. They both stood in the corridor outside the main stage, waiting with evil but proud grins on their faces. We weren't friends but at least they were kind to me.

Unlike my bastard of a father.

My friends had gotten used to seeing the two of them around, neither man interfering but always keeping a watchful eye. However, stories had been ‘made up' about the reason they were constantly by my side including my father had ties to the mafia. In truth, my friends and fellow classmates had no clue how close to the truth they'd gotten.

I was no fool. I'd overheard conversations and seen strange, dangerous men dressed in the finest men's suits enter my father's house for business transactions. I'd even looked up a few, one of them the firstborn son of one of the most dangerous crime syndicates in New York. While my father would deny it, my guess was that he'd been well funded by multiple criminal organizations over the years, which had garnered him power beyond his wildest dreams.

I had also long suspected the reason my mother had been murdered was because of his unsavory connections. It was a topic I'd broached with my father only once. I'd gotten the silent treatment even more than usual for a solid three months. After that, he'd sat me down in his office, explaining in no uncertain terms that I was never to mention it again.

Of course, after that I'd learned to pick locks and snoop. What I'd found had been eye-opening but not damning. My father was far too careful to keep a close eye on his activities and anything criminally related away from prying eyes.

I was grateful to be getting out from under his web of deceit. All I had to do was to get through this last night of torture with the man and I was golden.

My thoughts drifted to Tyler. I still couldn't believe he was dead, murdered. Not just murdered but slaughtered as if the killer had been making a statement. I glanced out the crack in the thick velvet drapes, wondering if the mystery stalker was in the audience. I'd been certain whoever he was had been outside, standing in the blinding electric storm watching the house.

I'd even anticipated finding him in my room at some point. I'd awakened, certain he was standing in the corner, forever watching me. The power had been out for hours, which meant the security system had been down.

The worst thing about sensing his presence had been the confirmation in the morning.

There'd been a single rose located in my bathroom, greeting me the moment I'd walked inside. It was white in color, my favorite. How would anyone know that? I still felt sick inside, the police asking questions all the way up to this afternoon. My dad had been furious when he'd found out I'd left under the guise of a lie, ditching my bodyguards.

He'd lectured me for a full two hours on my safety and why I was incapable of looking out for myself. He'd even threatened to cancel his permission for me to go to New York.

That's when I'd told him in no uncertain terms that I was an adult and would go whether he liked it or not.

I'd never seen his face turn so red in my life. But I'd won the round, the man storming out of the house. That's why I'd initially been so surprised he'd been insistent on being here and taking me to dinner afterwards. Not that I wanted to eat at nine-thirty at night, but I had a feeling I couldn't refuse him.

As horrible as the murder was, even worse was the fact that not once had my father asked a single question about Tyler or Cara. He hadn't given a shit a young man with so much potential had lost his life in such a horrible manner.

Or maybe worse still was the fact I'd told a white lie to protect Cara. I'd said I hadn't seen him since he'd retired to the tent with my bestie. I couldn't tell her the truth. It would have destroyed her even more than she was at this point.

I was sick inside that she'd refused to see me. I wanted to comfort her, to be by her side but what could I say?

As I looked out into the audience again, I was certain he was here. My stalker. The man who'd been in my room.

The storm from three nights before had been wild, the loss of electricity cutting not only the power but the security system as well. I was certain that's how the man had gotten inside in the cloak of darkness. For at least the second time.

Maybe there'd been more and no one had noticed. Or the guy was damn good at breaking and entering. My thoughts drifted back to the night he'd fucked me, which I was surer of than before.

I'd still been able to feel the effects of his savage spanking a couple of days later, although there'd been no redness the next morning, no indication I'd had anything other than a dark, demented dream. But I was positive he'd taken me the night before, cleaning up after himself so there wouldn't be any evidence should I decide to tell my father.

Which I hadn't.

But there was no doubt the time was running out. He was coming for me.

Hungering for me.

And this time, he'd capture me like a sweet little sparrow added to his collection. Or like the angel he believed me to be.

I felt trapped inside a horrific bubble, my classmates acting even weirder around me, and I hadn't necessarily been well liked before. Maybe that was because they'd been afraid of my father, their parents telling them to steer clear of the freak girl with the murdered mother and the evil father. And I had no doubt they'd all heard about the incident in the woods, the splash across the news horrible to relive.

"Are you ready?" Tommy asked me as he walked in my direction. We'd been buddies for years, the boy asking me out on countless dates. Sadly, he was a good friend but definitely not my type. Besides, my father said Tommy's Wisconsin family wasn't good enough for his daughter.

"I think so." My words were more stilted than usual, my palms sweaty. I wiped them on my black dress, trying to keep my composure.

"There are like a thousand people out there," he said.

"Make that three thousand."

"Ugh. You had to tell me that."

I laughed as I glanced at his pensive face. "You'll do great. Besides, you're accompanying me."

He grinned. "You want to go out and get a drink after this?"

"I can't. Daddy dearest is in the audience. He wants to share dinner with me afterwards, just the two of us."

"Wow. I'd love to meet your dad."

"No, you wouldn't."

"Why? Will he have the two goons who follow you constantly rough me up a bit?"

"Very funny."

"You know I like the rough stuff." He barked then howled like the big goofball he was.

I rolled my eyes, taking a deep breath as Mr. Romero headed in our direction. There were dozens of stagehands roaming the stage, making final preparations for the performance, many of them I didn't recognize.

And I couldn't lose the thought that he was here watching my every move.

"Darling. Are you ready?" Mr. Romero asked as he crowded my space, something that made me a little sick inside. The bastard had put his moves on me twice before. Fortunately, I'd managed to talk my way out of his clutches.

"I think so." I looked around nervously. When he cupped my face, forcing me to look at him, I tensed, another moment of repulsion knotting my stomach.

"You're going to do great. I am so proud of you. You're my sweet, angelic virtuoso. My greatest accomplishment."

Angel. He'd used the word I was certain my stalker had whispered. Oh, dear God. I hadn't considered the possibility that this man was the mystery watcher. No. No. No.

"Thank you." I took a decided step away, but the same eerie feeling remained. A strange fog formed over my eyes and I scanned the area around him. There was someone there in the shadows. I knew it. I could sense it.

But this time, I wasn't afraid.

He was here to protect me.

To save me.

To adore me.

My angel…

Styx

"Don't be late," Mary said as she rose onto her toes, pressing a kiss against my chin.

I gripped her arms, laughing softly. "I have an easy schedule today. Only two surgeries on the books."

"Uh-huh. When you say two, you usually mean four. It's a special night. If you forget, I'll never forgive you."

Laughing softly, I kissed her forehead. "How could I forget my beautiful baby's birthday?"

"I mean it." She punched me playfully in the chest before backing away, blowing me a kiss then scampering out of the room.

I stood where I was, allowing myself one of those few moments of remembering just how lucky I was.

Not just that I had an incredible family and beautiful house or that my career was exactly where and how I wanted it to be, but also that I'd removed myself from the darkness.

There was nothing better than the light.

Maybe there was such a thing as salvation after all.

There was no special reason I was thinking about the past. This wasn't the same thing at all.

Except for the fact as I stared at the man touching Emily, I wanted to kill him.

No man put his hands on my angel without facing my wrath. And the fucker who obviously had desire for her was crossing every line.

She was mine. All mine. The moment I'd entered her room, I'd branded her.

One taste hadn't been enough.

Bypassing the security system and her bodyguards, entering her room during the middle of a violent storm had been the riskiest thing I'd done in years.

But fuck if I hadn't enjoyed every second of taking her. Laying claim.

Using her lithe body. My palm was haunted by delicious tingling sensations from the discipline I'd administered before. Spanking her had been… perfection.

But now, I wanted more. Much more.

My initial behavior wasn't all that unusual. I always gathered a taste of who my marks were and the best way to do that was by entering their personal space.

I was a dangerous man, one who enjoyed taking what he wanted.

The thought of how the girl had writhed against me, doing her best to scream before the luscious sounds turned to ones of passion floated into my mind.

After that, I'd done nothing more than wait for the perfect opportunity to take what already belonged to me. Tonight was the night.

I remained in the shadows, concentrating on studying the people around me. There were far too many dignitaries with their own bodyguards to consider taking Emily during the concert event. Besides, I had a strong desire to hear her play before ripping her from her normal environment. She was listed as a soloist, which enthused my dark cravings. I needed something to soothe me tonight, the anger festering to the point I could potentially lose control and that wasn't what I wanted to do.

There'd been another phone call. Another reminder of the contract had occurred seconds before I'd walked into the auditorium. Liam was coming close to facing extinction himself. I was well aware he had the power to sully my reputation, but no man or organization was going to tell me what or how I needed to do my job. While usually I never questioned those hiring me to handle a messy contract, merely ascertaining the individual or group had the resources to pay what I was worth and that they were legit, I'd taken it upon myself to find out why stealing Emily away from her father was their requested choice of action.

I'd come to find out, the people who'd hired me had done business with Gideon in the past, although a couple of years had gone by. Perhaps my instinct that it hadn't been about Liam's murdered wife had been spot on.

I wasn't immune to working with all types of people, including those with nefarious criminal backgrounds, but the people who'd hired me were not only demanding, the powerful men were also considered brutal even in my world. It would seem Gideon Martin had crossed the wrong people in dozens of ways. That made sense.

Even though my father had been considered a savage amongst those involved in crime syndicates, members of the Taglioni Crime Syndicate were truly evil individuals. Liam and his moguls had hidden behind the organization they worked for while Gideon couldn't care less who knew he was a powerful mafia Don simply because of how many members of law enforcement he owned and could destroy. This was just another turf war in my mind, but one with treacherous results.

Ordinarily, I'd admire their traits and heinous activities, but I remained infuriated they wanted to exterminate something as precious as my angel.

That wasn't going to happen.

Fuck the money.

To hell with the danger.

She was mine, plain and simple. All mine.

I waited in the wings as she pushed herself away from the venomous pig, brushing her long fingers through her hair. My palm itched with the need to fist her hair at the scalp, dragging her against the heat of my chest while I ripped off her clothes with the other hand. The enjoyment of impaling her with my thick, aching cock while I shoved her against the wall was never far from my mind.

Suddenly, a weird sense of grief and rage swept together in my system, sticking in my throat. When the hell had I felt grief the last time? Months? Years? Long enough a headache immediately formed behind my eyes given the strange sense of remembrance.

I backed away, heading toward the musicians' door leading to the back corridor, taking long strides down the crowded hallway. My feet echoed on the cheap marble as I headed for the main salon. I'd need to curtail my urges until the event was over.

After that, I'd act on my plan.

It had been easy to mingle with those handling setup and issues behind the scenes. That had allowed me to get close while remaining in the shadows. I'd been able to bask in her beauty, noticing how nervous she was. Plus, I'd been able to take some time studying Gideon from afar. He was more interested in the cocktail party prior to the concert, mingling with people he probably assumed he could con into investing in whatever scheme he had up his sleeve.

But there was something even odder about his behavior, the bastard constantly scanning the crowd, but I couldn't decipher any concern. It was more like he'd been expecting someone.

As the ding sounded through the red carpeted halls of the Berklee auditorium, an indication the concert was set to begin, I was provided with an answer.

Gideon had established the auditorium as a neutral meeting ground, the man arriving through the all glass doors with security detail in tow something of royalty. While I didn't recognize the visitor outright, it was obvious he was of Arabian descent, his burnished complexion a dead giveaway.

Now, why would a man like Gideon Martin be meeting with Arabian royalty? I had more questions than answers, but I was certain part of the reason a hit had been placed on his daughter had to do with this covert yet public meeting. I was at a perfect vantage point, which allowed me to snap a photo of the two on my phone completely undetected.

I watched as they talked, unable to get close enough to hear what they were saying but the animation and animosity were clear.

Something evil was going on.

It was Gideon who ended the meeting, storming through the main doors to the auditorium. The guest stood where he was for a few seconds before leaving, which surprised me.

Whatever was going on was volatile, which added further motivation for what I intended.

Now, onto the concert.

I needed a moment of grounding, to allow the demons to find comfort in being chained for a little while longer.

I grabbed a drink at the bar, trying not to show my disdain for the venue's poor choice of cheap liquor. At least they were allowing alcoholic beverages for the evening. The bitter taste of the rotgut scotch would help curtail the cravings for a little while longer.

At least I'd been smart enough to request a double.

As I stood in the shadows as I always did, the wait for Emily to perform her solo interminable, I thought about all the things I wanted to do to her. My sadistic needs were a disease to most, a moment where a fine line would be crossed time and time again. I would go to hell for my thoughts alone, but I'd accepted my fate a long time ago. Everything in life was considered a mortal sin to someone, myself included.

I'd simply finally been able to choose the dark side of life versus having it thrown on me as had occurred as a small child. I was embracing the heinous man my father had told his children they were with gusto.

And I planned on continuing to exploit my love of violence and bloodshed until the day I died.

I took a sip, wincing from the taste, closing my eyes as the festive yet boring as fuck concert ensued. I knew my wait would be long but by the time an hour had passed, I'd been forced to purchase another drink for fear of killing someone out of boredom.

I'd kept my eye on the lecherous pig who'd touched her before, the man sitting in the front row like a proud papa, watching the conductor in his dramatic yet useless role of directing the orchestra.

When it finally came time for her performance, the hush of the crowd was interrupted by a few shrill whistles when Emily walked out onto the stage.

How dare they interrupt the glorious moment.

I could crush their skulls for doing so.

Exhaling, I fisted my fingers around the plastic glass, hearing it crack the moment the applause died down.

As she moved to the ebony grand piano, I held my breath. I wanted her to do well, to outperform everyone else who'd been on the stage.

Not that I'd been paying any goddamn attention to them. I couldn't give a fuck about anyone else, including the same two pipsqueaks she'd been practicing with the first night I'd seen her.

The orchestra took their positions, the opening chords dark and dramatic.

And as she placed her hands on the ivory keys, I could feel her tension rippling through my veins as much as the desire was tingling my senses. The longing was intense enough my cock was thick and painful, my balls tight as they'd ever been. I found myself walking closer, heading toward the stage so I could bask in her beauty from a perfect location.

She remained tense at first, her shoulders tight and her face pinched. But as the seconds wore on, she fell into the rhythm of the darkness she was emulating. It was the same Rachmaninoff Prelude from the first night I'd seen her in person, only hearing it in this venue was much more powerful. I was drawn into the reverence of death, the same reason the composer had created the piece. It was from his terrible nightmare, where a funeral was being held, with a coffin taking center stage in the dream.

It was a telling moment, a wistful glance into the very reason I needed Emily in my life. She was exactly like me, the raw passion she exuded as her love of music flowed, her body swaying to the intense vibrations as the orchestra helped to bring the concerto to life the most powerful experience of my life.

In those few moments I knew the choice I'd made had been a lifetime coming.

All the torture I'd been put through, the agony of physical, mental, and emotional pain leading to this one spectacular moment.

Emily Rose Martin had always belonged to me.