Chapter 21 - Cohen

A week ago, Emerald gave herself to me completely in that chapel. Now I watch her sleeping beside me, her dark hair spilled across my chest, and know that I've stolen far more than just her body. I've claimed every part of her—mind, heart, soul. She belongs to me so completely that trying to separate us now would be like trying to unravel DNA. We're coded into each other's cells, written into each other's blood.

And tomorrow, at her mother's precious Christmas party, everyone will know it.

Snow falls outside her bedroom window, coating Emerald Hills in white while the rest of the house sleeps. My fingers trace idle patterns on her bare shoulder as she breathes softly against my skin. She can't sleep without me anymore—hasn't spent a single night alone since the chapel. Neither have I. The rare moments we're forced apart feel like drowning, like someone's stolen all the oxygen from the room.

Some might call it unhealthy. Toxic. Co-dependent.

But they don't understand what we are to each other. What we've always been, since that first moment I saw her. Two halves of the same soul—her light to my darkness, finally whole.

"Cohen?" Her voice is soft and sleepy as she stirs against me, pressing closer so her skin’s touching mine everywhere it possibly can. Always seeking closer contact, like she can't bear even an inch of space between us. I know the feeling.

"Go back to sleep, little one." I press a kiss to her forehead, breathing in the sweet scent of her skin mixed with mine. The scent of us. "It's early."

But she's already pushing herself up on one elbow, those endless green eyes finding mine in the gloomy gray light filtering through her windows. The love I see there still knocks the breath from my lungs. After two years of planning, manipulating, orchestrating every detail to get her exactly where I wanted her, I never expected this—to have her look at me like I'm her entire world. Like I'm something sacred instead of the monster I know I am.

"You're thinking too loud," she murmurs, her fingers tracing the line of my jaw. Just that simple touch sends electricity racing through my veins. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong." I catch her hand, pressing a kiss to her palm. "Everything's exactly as it should be."

She studies me for a moment, her brow furrowing. I want to kiss that worried look off her face, but then again, I always want to kiss her. "You're worried about tomorrow."

"Not worried." I slide my hand into her hair, gripping gently. "Just... ready. Ready for everyone to know you're mine. Ready to stop hiding." Ready to know with certainty whether she’s pregnant with my child.

Her lips brush against my chest, right over my heart, and my grip in her hair tightens. "Me too," she whispers. "I'm tired of pretending I don't need you every second of every day."

My cock hardens at her words, at the naked want in her voice. She's been insatiable this past week, her body constantly craving mine in a way that makes me wonder... hope...

But I need to be sure before I let myself believe.

"How are you feeling?" I keep my voice casual as I stroke her back, cataloging every small change in her body that I've noticed this week. The tenderness in her breasts that makes her gasp when I touch them. The way she falls asleep at odd hours, pure exhaustion written across her features. Her sudden cravings for foods she's never been allowed to eat.

"Mmm." She snuggles closer, practically burrowing into my skin. "Tired. But good tired. Safe." She presses another kiss to my chest. "Everything feels... different. Bigger. More intense." Her fingers trail down my stomach, following the lines of my tattoos. "Is that weird?"

"No, little phoenix." I catch her wandering hand before it can go lower and destroy what's left of my self-control. "That's exactly how it should feel between us."

She makes a soft sound of protest when I stop her exploration. "But I want to touch you."

"And I want to let you." I bring her hand to my mouth, kissing each fingertip. "But your mother has you scheduled for final dress fittings all morning, and if I let you start something, we won't leave this bed until New Year's."

The pout she gives me should be illegal. Actually, most things about her should be illegal, including how fucking perfect she looks wearing nothing but one of my shirts. But especially that lip...

"Don't." I growl the warning, but she just bites that bottom lip harder, her eyes daring me. "You know what that does to me, little one."

"Maybe that's exactly why I'm doing it." She shifts against me, all soft curves and warm skin, and my restraint splinters. "Maybe I need—"

A knock at the door freezes us both.

"Miss Delacroix?" Kendra's voice filters through the wood. "Your mother wants you dressed and ready in twenty minutes for the fitting."

Emerald's eyes go wide with panic as she scrambles out of bed. I watch her, already missing her warmth. This sneaking around is getting old, but soon we won't have to hide anymore.

"Go shower," I murmur, stealing one last kiss before I have to let her go. "I'll see you downstairs."

She kisses me once more, quick and desperate, before slipping from the bed. I watch her disappear into the bathroom, memorizing the way my shirt falls to her thighs, the glimpse of marks I left on her skin last night.

Mine. All mine.

And tomorrow, everyone will know it.

But first, I need to confirm what my gut is telling me. Need to know for certain that my careful planning, my meticulous timing, has worked exactly as intended.

That Emerald Delacroix is carrying my child.

The thought alone makes my cock thicken and throb, but I force myself to focus. To plan. To make sure everything is perfect when I finally tell her.

Twenty-four hours until the party.

Twenty-four hours until I get to show the world who Emerald really belongs to.

Twenty-four hours until Madeline learns exactly who she allowed into her home.

I just need to be patient for one more day.

The water shuts off in the bathroom, and I hear Emerald humming softly—"All I Want for Christmas Is You." Last year she would've been terrified to make even that small sound, afraid her mother would hear her daring to express joy. Now she hums in the shower, steals chocolate from the kitchen, and laughs when I kiss that spot behind her ear that makes her shiver.

I force myself to dress quickly, knowing if I'm still here when she steps out of that bathroom wrapped in nothing but a towel, there's no power on earth that could make me leave. And getting caught right now isn't an option. Not when we're so close to everything I've planned.

My mind races through the logistics of what I need to accomplish today as I button my shirt. I need to be certain before tomorrow. Need to know if my careful timing, my meticulous planning, worked exactly as intended.

I slip out of Emerald's room and head down the hall toward my own, passing Kendra on her way to torment my stepdaughter with another one of Madeline's endless schedules. Her eyes narrow slightly at my early morning appearance, but she can't prove anything. Not that it matters at this point.

From my doorway, I hear her sharp knock on Emerald's door, her clipped voice announcing another rushed morning of fittings and photographs. Everything about that woman screams loyalty to Madeline—from her rigid posture to her precise timing.

There’s no point in playing nice with Madeline's watchdog. Besides, I have more important things to focus on. Like getting my hands on a pregnancy test without arousing suspicion. Like making sure everything is perfect for tomorrow night when I finally get to show the world exactly who Emerald belongs to. I close my door on Kendra’s suspicious glare.

I need someone discrete. Someone with no connection to this house or Emerald Hills. Someone who won't ask questions or run straight to Madeline.

Grace, my assistant at the law firm, answers on the first ring. "Mr. Astor?"

"I need something picked up. Immediately. And with absolute discretion."

"Of course." No questions, no hesitation. It's why I hired her. That, and her complete lack of interest in anything beyond doing her job perfectly. "What do you need?"

Five minutes later, it's handled. The tests will be at my office within the hour.

I stand at my window, watching snow blanket the grounds while I change into a fresh suit. Through the frosted glass, I can see the chapel where Emerald gave herself to me completely, its dark spire a reminder of promises made in candlelight. Of what's to come.

Now comes the harder part—getting what I need without Emerald knowing. But Madeline's given me the perfect blueprint with her years of controlling behavior.

I head downstairs as the house comes alive around me. Staff pour in through the service entrance, arms laden with decorations and supplies for tomorrow's party. Madeline's voice carries from her office, sharp with irritation as she berates someone over the phone about candlestick heights or crystal placement or whatever other meaningless detail has caught her attention.

I find Anna, one of the newer maids, restocking towels in the hall bathroom. Young, eager to please, and—most importantly—no real loyalty to Madeline yet.

"Good morning, Anna." I lower my voice. "I need your help with something delicate."

She turns, with a hesitant smile on her face. "Yes, Mr. Astor?"

"Mrs. Delacroix has ordered another random drug screening because of Emerald's unusual behavior lately." I pull out an empty specimen cup from my pocket, watching understanding flood the maid's face. These "wellness checks" are a regular part of Madeline's control. "She wants it handled with the usual discretion. You know how she is about appearances, especially before events like tomorrow."

Anna nods quickly, already reaching for the cup. "Of course. Just like the other times. I'll tell Miss Emerald it's another of her mother's random tests."

"Perfect." I let a hint of approval enter my voice, knowing it will cement her cooperation. "Bring this to me instead of Madeline when you’ve collected it. With the party, I told her I’d handle it.”

I watch Anna head up the stairs toward Emerald's room where I know she's still getting ready for the day. My gut twists at using Madeline's tactics against Emerald, but I need to know. Need to be certain before tomorrow night.

I grab a quick coffee from the kitchen, avoiding Madeline's voice carrying from her office where she's still terrorizing some poor bastard about tomorrow's arrangements. Twenty minutes later, Anna slips into my study with the filled specimen cup.

"Thank you," I say, already reaching for my coat. "I'll make sure Mrs. Delacroix knows how helpful you've been."

The drive to my office takes longer than usual with the heavy snow, but it gives me time to control the anticipation coursing through my veins. The paper bag from Grace sits centered on my desk when I arrive, exactly where I knew it would be. Discrete, as always.

I lock the door before pulling out the tests and reading through the instructions. My hands actually shake as I carefully dip the first stick into the cup and set a timer on my phone.

Two minutes.

The wait feels endless. I pace in front of my window, unable to sit still, unable to focus on anything except the strip of plastic that will tell me if I've succeeded. If that night in her bedroom was just the beginning of making her completely, irrevocably mine in every possible way.

One line appears.

Then another.

Positive.

Something ancient and wild roars to life in my chest, darker and more consuming than anything I've ever felt for her. My hands grip the edge of my desk as triumph and satisfaction crash through me. She's carrying my child. My blood runs in her veins now, our DNA weaving together to create something entirely new. Something that will bind us together until the end of time.

Something perfect.

My phone buzzes and Kendra's name flashes on the screen. Fucking perfect timing.

"What?" I answer, still riding the high of confirmation that Emerald's carrying my child.

"The Whitakers just called. They're insisting on bringing their daughter and her new husband tomorrow night." Kendra's voice carries that particular tension she gets when Madeline's about to explode. "Mrs. Delacroix requires your assistance with the situation."

Of course they are. Richard Whitaker thinking he can leverage his family's three generations in Emerald Hills to do whatever the fuck he wants which then means I have to deal with Madeline.

I drop the tests in the dumpster outside before heading back to the estate. This past week, Madeline's been so caught up in her precious party preparations that she's almost ignored me. But the moments when she's not obsessing over place settings or flower arrangements, she's been worse than ever to Emerald - cutting remarks, constant criticism, threats about that Swiss school that aren’t even really threats since she’s already bought the plane ticket and paid the tuition.

Her obsession with both the party and tormenting Emerald has reached new levels. Like she's trying to prove something. Establish dominance one last time before... what?

I pull into the circular drive just as another delivery truck arrives. Through the windows, I can see my wife in full dictator mode, but there's calculation behind her eyes when they meet mine.

That look sets off warning bells in my gut that I've learned never to ignore.

I find Madeline in the formal living room, which has become a staging area for tomorrow night's party. Her perfect posture is rigid with tension as she snaps orders at a trembling florist about tomorrow's centerpieces. Through the doorway, I can see Emerald curled in an armchair, half-asleep despite the chaos around her. Dark circles shadow her eyes even through her makeup, and my fingers itch to take her upstairs, wrap her in my arms, and let her rest. To protect her and our child from everything—including her mother.

Our child.

The words still feel surreal, even with the proof I just saw.

"Cohen." Madeline's voice cuts through my thoughts. "Finally. We have a situation with the Whitakers."

"I heard." I keep my voice neutral as I tear my gaze from Emerald. "What exactly do they want?"

"To bring their newly married daughter and her husband." Her lips curve into a smile that doesn't reach her eyes. "Normally I wouldn't care, but given the seating arrangements... perhaps you could speak with Richard? After all, you handle his family's legal affairs."

There's something in her tone that sets me on edge. Like this is a test. But of what?

"Of course." I pull out my phone, already composing a text to Richard that will shut this down immediately. "I'll handle it."

"Excellent." She turns back to the florist but pauses. "Oh, and Cohen? Make sure you're both dressed appropriately tonight. The photographer is coming for the website's Christmas day message and I won't have either of you embarrassing me."

Both of us. As if Emerald and I are a unit in her mind.

She knows something's off, but her ego won't let her see the truth. She's too convinced of her own power, too certain that she's broken Emerald's spirit completely. Too arrogant to believe that her beaten down puppet of a daughter could ever defy her. And she thinks I married her for her money, her status, her brand—as if I need any of that when I have the Savage Society's backing.

Let her underestimate us. Let her believe she's still in control.

It'll make tomorrow night that much sweeter when her world shatters.

Emerald stirs in her chair, those endless green eyes finding mine across the room, and everything else just... disappears. She's exhausted, worried about the party, anxious about her mother's mood—I can read it all in her face like she's speaking directly to my soul. When she looks at me like this, it's impossible not to drown in her, to forget where we are, who might be watching.

I force myself to break our connection, glancing quickly at Madeline, but she's too busy terrorizing the florist to notice how her daughter and husband just got lost in each other.

"I have a few calls to make," I say, though walking away from her feels like having my heart ripped out through my throat. "I'll be back for the photoshoot."

By this time tomorrow, everything changes. Our lives, our future, our family.

But first, I need to figure out exactly what Madeline's planning.

Because as I left the room, that woman's smile promised war.

She has no idea that while she's been playing chess, I've already positioned every piece for checkmate.

And I never lose.