22. Emerson

"Promise me. Nothing will go wrong tomorrow." Roland's words kept ringing in my ears as I walked laps around my desk. I had told him that I did, even as my brain outlined the risks of meeting with Eva alone, of turning her down and taking away every avenue of escape. I had no doubt she was dangerous, and my promise to Roland tasted like ashes on my tongue.

I had spent most of the night watching Roland sleep, held tight in my arms. Even in sleep, his face looked tense, a crease between his eyebrows, lips turned down. How could I resist telling him whatever he needed to hear, in order to set his mind at ease? I would just have to do whatever it took not to be made a liar.

When I called Eva to set up an appointment, her assistant relayed that she would be over shortly, as though Eva had dropped everything. It was no wonder; we had a lot to talk about, more than she knew. She was on her way to the hotel now, would be here any moment. Warrants came through in record time, and there were now a dozen FBI agents just down the hall, listening to the microphone taped to my chest, watching on a tiny camera hidden under the lip of my desk.

Roland was here somewhere as well, refusing to be left out of the event. If I really focused, I swore I could hear the steady beat of his heart through the walls, and his presence, even from this distance, was reassuring.

My stomach was sour and twisted, acid crawling up my throat. When her familiar rap came on the door, I somehow managed to regain some sense of calm—outwardly, at least. I wound around my desk and lowered into the chair. "Come in," I called in a steady voice.

When she entered, I swore it was like she slithered, this snake of a woman, straight from Hell. She smiled, looking triumphant. She truly believed she had won. "Have a seat," I offered, gesturing to the chair I'd placed in an ideal location to be recorded.

She sat down, crossing her legs in a smooth glide, her skirt inching up her thigh as she placed her purse in her lap. "I'm so glad you called," she purred. "This whole thing has gotten out of hand."

"The Chatter article—" I began, but she cut me off.

"Was not your doing, I know," she said, her eyes glittering. "It was all hearsay. There's no proof that I've done anything wrong, I've made sure of it, and when reelection time comes around, people will vote for me because they know what's good for them. For now, that article changes nothing. The wedding will go on as planned. This will be a lot less painful for the both of us if we learn to get along. We don't need to be enemies."

"I'm afraid that won't be possible," I said, trying to keep my voice level.

She had an incredible poker face. I could see no trace of what she was thinking. "Did you think I wouldn't hear about your fundraiser? So you raised a little money, so what? It will only delay the inevitable. Why do you keep fighting me? You'll get to keep your hotel, your staff will keep their jobs. Your little cutie pie with the dark eyes will keep his apartment. Even your father has given his blessing. You will live comfortably for the rest of your life. If you want children, I'm sure we can come to some kind of agreement."

My hands shook until I forced them into fists. My mouth was so dry that when I tried to swallow, the sides of my throat stuck together. "The wedding is off," I finally managed to get out, "because the hotel no longer belongs to my family. My father sold it."

That finally got a reaction from her, a slight tic along her jaw, as if she'd clenched her teeth, before wrestling her face back to the calm mask she usually wore. "You're lying. I would've heard if he did something so stupid." She drew in a deep breath, analyzing me. "Who did he sell it to?"

"To my new husband." I almost smiled in glee at the way she clenched her purse in a death grip. "Marrying me is now not only pointless, but it's impossible, and you can't marry him either."

She was downright livid. "You're all a bunch of morons if you think I'll be dissuaded so easily. I guess my business with you is concluded. I'll just have to deal with Mr. Stohl next, won't I?" she said, correctly guessing who I'd married. She pressed up from her chair in a rush, looping her purse strap over her shoulder as she prepared to leave.

I saw her as stepping on a warpath, headed for the man I loved, and I suddenly found myself out of my chair and rounding the desk to put myself in her way. "You don't know me very well, if you think I'll let you get anywhere near him," I seethed, blocking the door.

She threw her head back and laughed, a movie-villain cackle. "As if you'll have a choice." As she stepped toward me, she reached into her purse and came out with a gun, and my heart skipped a beat. The compact weapon shook in her tight grip, but it didn't look like it was because she was unused to handling it. She was just so furious that she was quivering with pent-up anger. "You are going to do what you're told, just like your father did before you. Your entire family is so useless! The only one who had any inspiration was your grandfather. I thought you and I could work together, all of us profit, but if you won't play nice, then I'll make sure you still lose the hotel, one way or another, even if I have to burn it to the ground myself."

My eyes fixed on the gun, I held my hands out where the camera could see them, hoping the agents would hold off rushing in here. To Eva, it would just look like I was surrendering. I knew Roland would be urging them to charge into the room, but she hadn't given us enough information yet. We needed a solid case to keep her behind bars. Muttering threats, waving a gun around… she'd be out in a year if she had a good lawyer. I wanted to raise my children in peace, without worrying about her getting out on good behavior, only to come after us in revenge.

Eva's mouth quirked, her eyes unfocused, as if she was thinking, probably reformulating her plan. "Okay, here's what's going to happen. I'll find someone else to buy the hotel…"

I frowned, confused by her muttering. "You're not even offering to buy it yourself?"

"No, I can't be connected to it, not directly," she snapped. "That's why marrying you was so perfect. It was a believable match, without muddying up my reputation. Otherwise, I would've just bought it from your father in the first place." She brushed her hair back with her free hand, where it was beginning to dampen from her sweat, strands sticking to her skin. "No. You're going to tell your precious husband to sell this hotel to the person of my choosing, and you'll do it with a smile on your face. I'm sure he'll do it to keep you safe."

"And if he won't sell?"

Her lips twisted with a smirk. "I hear your husband is expecting."

Cold dread filled me. "Excuse me? Are you threatening my children?"

"Are you really that fucking stupid?! Of course I am!" She was falling apart at the seams, no longer put together. Her eyes were wild, and as sweat smeared her makeup, I could see the bags under her eyes she'd been trying to conceal. She wasn't mad—she was terrified. I wasn't the only one losing sleep these days. I would almost feel sorry for her—if it weren't for her threats, her manipulation, the way she was prepared to ruin my entire life, Roland's life, threatening my unborn children. Nope, any trace of sympathy I might have felt was replaced by cold, bitter rage.

"I don't get it. Why do you even need the hotel? You're already rich, not to mention being the godsdamn mayor. You run the whole fucking city!"

"It's not me who wants the hotel, just like I'm not the one who's running this city," she hissed, waving her gun at me. "Think bigger! Once upon a time, your grandfather's ambition connected him with Barbieri. The hotel was the perfect place to launder money. Then along came your father with his conscience." She scoffed and offered an eye roll. "Santana had taken over after Barbieri by then, and he let your father's insolence slide, in exchange for a monthly payout. He wasn't thinking long-term. So weak and lazy, with no vision. Now that Santana's behind bars, a man named Alessio has taken his place. He was Santana's right-hand man, and he's working to build the empire back up to what it once was, to its original glory."

"So? I don't get how you're involved."

She growled in frustration. "He"ll stop at nothing to get what he wants, and in this case, he wants this hotel—and I won't be the one who fails him." She gulped, her eyes wild. "If I don't get this done, he'll kill me."

I knew nothing about this Alessio guy, but I could see she was genuinely afraid for her life. Afraid enough to kill? Maybe.

"You never should've gotten involved with the mob in the first place," I said, shaking my head in disappointment.

"Haven't you ever heard about survival of the fittest? Nice guys really do finish last—and that's only if you live that long." She looked haggard, and seeing her now, it was impossible to believe she was ever as poised as she'd been when she walked in just minutes ago.

I'd had just about enough of this conversation. She'd said enough to incriminate herself, as well as this Alessio. If she knew anything else important, she could work that out with the feds. It was no longer my problem.

She whimpered, trying to wrestle her composure back into place. "I'm just one branch of a much larger tree. This goes far beyond me, beyond this city, even beyond the east coast."

"Well, consider this branch pruned," I said, feeling a vicious grin stretch across my lips.

"What's that supposed to mean?" The hand holding the gun dropped to her side as she searched my face for answers. "What have you done?" she hissed.

Before I had time to answer, the door behind me burst open, and FBI agents spilled into the room, their guns trained on her. She began to raise her gun but must've thought better, faced with an arsenal. The lead agent who'd introduced herself as Amy Abadi stepped forward. "Put your gun on the ground! Eva Ward, you are under arrest."

"Have a nice time in prison," I muttered to her, looking dumbstruck, before I untucked my shirt and pulled off the mic. I handed it to an agent on the way out the door.

The entire lobby was in chaos, between the agents and the crowd of onlookers who were gathering to see what was going on. There was only one person I wanted to see right now, though.

Roland was waiting for me just around the corner, and he threw himself at me as soon as he saw me. His tight grip on me had me sagging against in him relief. I buried my face in his neck and breathed him in. It was over. Eva wouldn't bother us ever again.

"Let's go home," he whispered in my ear, fingers raking through my hair, and I nodded. There was nothing I wanted more.