Chapter 18 - Cohen

I spend the next few hours at my office, reviewing case files while I wait for Emmitt's dissolution paperwork. By eleven, my phone shows three missed calls from Madeline—all ignored.

I'm just wrapping up a call with one of Cole Callahan’s shell companies when my office line lights up with the Delacroix house number. Something in my chest tightens.

"Did you dream of me after I left?" I say instead of a normal greeting. Only one person would call me from that number.

"Cohen." Her voice is tight with panic that makes my blood run cold as she chokes out my name. "Daniel Montgomery is here with Mother. She's forcing me to have lunch with him and..." She’s whispering but her voice still breaks. "She says if I don't go down there right now, she's sending me to that finishing school in Switzerland. The one where they don't let you have any contact with the outside world for a year. She's already made the call."

Rage pours into my system as I stand so fast, I knock over my leather chair. I grab my keys and my phone off the desk and shove them into my pocket.

"Where are you?"

"Locked in my bathroom. Kendra’s in my room packing a suitcase.”

"Breathe for me, baby." I'm already striding toward my car in the parking lot, making a mental note to get her a phone I can track. One Madeline doesn't know about. I should have done it weeks ago. "I won't let her send you anywhere. Just hold on until I get there."

"I'm trying, but..." Her voice is barely a whisper now. "She's getting angrier. I can hear her."

"Listen to me very carefully." I slide behind the wheel, the engine roaring to life. "Go downstairs. Smile. Be polite. But do not let him touch you. I'm five minutes from the house."

"Hurry," she whispers. "Please."

I end the call and floor the accelerator, the Aston Martin's engine snarling as I weave through traffic. By the time I walk into the dining room ten minutes later, I've already imagined a dozen ways to make the Montgomery heir disappear.

They're gathered in the formal dining room when I walk in, and the sight turns my vision red. Daniel has positioned himself next to Emerald, practically on top of her as he talks, one hand resting on her arm. She's frozen in her chair, eyes fixed on her empty plate, her shoulders curved inward like she's trying to disappear. Madeline presides over it all from the head of the table, radiating satisfaction.

"I hope I'm not interrupting." The words come out soft, controlled, despite the rage coursing through my veins.

Daniel glances up, and whatever he sees in my expression makes him snatch his hand off Emerald's arm. Smart boy.

"Cohen." Madeline's voice drips with artificial warmth. "Daniel was just telling us about the luxury spa chain his family's launching. He thinks Emerald would be perfect as the face of their wellness campaign."

I move behind Emerald's chair, my hand settling on her shoulder. The tension in her body melts the moment I touch her, and she sinks back against my fingers like she's finally able to breathe again.

"I'm afraid Emerald's schedule is quite full," I say, my thumb stroking the side of her neck where I left marks last night that she’s covered with makeup. "In fact, we have a meeting right now that we're late for."

"We do?" Emerald asks, then quickly adds, "Oh, right.”

"Actually," Daniel starts, but I cut him off with a look that promises violence.

"It wasn't a suggestion." I pull out Emerald's chair. "Shall we?"

She stands immediately, but Madeline's voice cracks like a whip. "Sit down, Emerald. We haven’t even served lunch yet."

I feel Emerald tense, torn between her mother's authority and my protection. But I've had enough of this game.

"Emerald," I say softly, "go wait in my car. We have that meeting with the new years’ collection photographers." An easy lie—Madeline's obsessed with the website's content, and she'd never risk Emerald missing something that could affect her precious brand.

She catches on immediately, nodding and hurrying from the room. Smart girl.

Once she's gone, I turn to Daniel. "Leave. Now. And if you ever come near her again, they won't find enough of you to bury."

He opens his mouth to protest, but something in my expression must convince him I'm serious. He stands, straightening his tie. "Madeline, I'll call you later to discuss—"

"No," I say. "You won't."

"This is ridiculous," Madeline snaps, rising from her chair. "Daniel, please sit down. We haven't—"

But Daniel's already backing toward the door, his eyes darting between me and Madeline. Smart boy—he's figured out which one of us is the real threat.

Once Daniel scurries from the room like the cockroach he is, I turn to Madeline. She's gripping her water glass so tightly her knuckles have gone white.

"You're making a mistake," she says, her voice trembling with rage. "Daniel could have given her everything."

"Everything?" I laugh, the sound dark and hollow. "You mean he could have given you everything.’

"How dare you—"

"No." I cut her off, planting my hands on the table and leaning forward. "How dare you . How dare you try to sell your daughter to a man you know has a history of abuse. I wonder what your shareholders would think if they knew what you really do to maintain that perfect family image."

"She has obligations—"

"Her obligation today is to your brand. Unless you want to explain to your board why the holiday collection's face disappeared right before launch?" I straighten, adjusting my engraved cufflinks. "I'm sure they'd love to hear how you prioritized a lunch date over their bottom line."

The mention of her precious brand hits its mark. Her lips press into a thin line, but I can see her mentally calculating the costs. "Have her back by dinner."

I don't bother responding as I head for the door. She hasn't won—she's just choosing her battles. And so am I.

Emerald is waiting in my car, her hands twisted together in her lap. The sight of her calms the rage burning through my veins, even as memories of Daniel touching her make me imagine all the ways I could make him disappear. Breaking his fingers one by one for daring to put them on her would be a good start.

When I slide into the driver's seat, she turns to me with worried eyes. "What did you say to them?"

"Nothing they didn't need to hear." I start the car, then reach over to take her hand. The moment our skin connects, some of the murderous rage subsides, replaced by the calm that only comes from touching her. She threads her fingers through mine like she needs the contact as much as I do.

"Are you okay?"

She nods, but I can feel her trembling. She shifts in her seat, leaning closer to me like she's trying to crawl inside my skin. "He kept touching me. Even when I moved away, he just kept..." She shudders, and violent fantasies explode behind my eyes—Daniel's body at the bottom of the lake, Daniel's car wrapped around a tree, Daniel bleeding out slowly in some dark corner of town.

I lift our joined hands to my mouth, pressing my lips to her knuckles, and she melts further into my touch. The simple contact grounds us both—her anxiety visibly easing as my bloodlust settles into something more controlled. It's fascinating how she can simultaneously calm my darkness and feed it. How touching her soothes the beast while making it more determined to destroy anyone who threatens what's mine.

"Did he hurt you?" My voice comes out rough with barely contained fury, even as her closeness keeps me from hunting Daniel down right now.

"No, nothing like that. He was just... persistent. Creepy." She looks down at our joined hands, then brings her other one up to trace the veins on my wrist. The gentle exploration of her fingers sends electricity through my blood. "Where are we going?"

"Somewhere we can breathe." I pull out of the driveway, heading toward the lake, though letting go of her hand feels like ripping off my own skin. The second I shift into drive, she leans across the console to rest her head against my shoulder, and everything in me settles. "Just for today."

She's quiet for a moment, watching the scenery blur past. Her breath against my neck is the only thing keeping the violent thoughts at bay. "What happens when we go home?"

"We keep playing our parts." I turn my head to press a kiss into her hair, breathing in the scent that's become as necessary as oxygen. "Until the Christmas party. And then..."

"And then?"

"And then you'll never have to pretend again." I catch her hand again, unable to go another second without touching her. "No more cages, little phoenix. Just freedom to be exactly who you are."

She lifts her head from my shoulder, those green eyes full of something between hope and fear. "With you?"

"Always with me." The word comes out like a vow, like something sacred whispered in that chapel. "There's no version of this that ends with us apart."

She presses closer, like she's trying to merge our bodies into one. Like she understands exactly what I mean because she feels it too.

The drive to the lake passes in comfortable silence, her head on my shoulder, our fingers intertwined. She fits against me like she was crafted for this exact purpose, and each mile that takes us further from Madeline's influence feels like one step closer to the future I've been planning since the moment I first saw her.

Seven days until the Christmas party. Seven days until I can give her everything I promised in that chapel. Seven days until we can stop hiding.

I've never been a patient man, but for her, I'd wait forever.