Chapter 9 - Cohen

Control is slipping through my fingers like blood from a fresh wound, and for once, I don't want to stop it.

Her scent lingers in the air of my Aston Martin, a heady mix of innocence and awakening lust that makes my cock throb with every inhale. I grip the steering wheel tighter, my knuckles going white as I try to focus on the road instead of the way her thighs press together, the slight tremor in her breathing, the way her teeth worry at her bottom lip.

Fuck, I want to bite that lip myself. Want to suck it between my teeth and tug until she whimpers, until she begs me to teach her everything.

But not just yet. There's vermin to exterminate first.

I pull up to Emmitt's sleek downtown office building, a glass and steel monstrosity that screams new money and overcompensation. It's the kind of place that tries too hard to impress, much like its owner. My jaw clenches as I eye the place, imagining all the ways I could burn it to the ground with Emmitt inside.

"Are you okay?" Emerald's soft voice cuts through the red haze of my thoughts. I turn to find her watching me, those big green eyes wide with concern. She's fidgeting with the hem of her hoodie, looking small and unsure in a way that makes my chest ache.

I want to tell her we're turning around, that I'm taking her far away from here, away from Emmitt and Madeline and anyone else who might try to dim her light. But there are too many pieces still in play, too many moves left to make before I can claim her completely.

"I'm fine, little one," I say, keeping my voice low and steady. I reach out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, letting my fingers linger against her skin. "Are you ready?"

She swallows hard, her pulse fluttering visibly in her throat. "I... I think so."

"You don't have to be afraid," I tell her, my hand sliding to cup her cheek. "I won't let anything happen to you. You're safe with me."

The way she leans into my touch, seeking comfort, makes something primal roar to life inside me. Mine, it screams. Mine to protect. Mine to possess. Mine to corrupt.

"I know," she whispers, and the trust in her voice is both intoxicating and terrifying. She has no idea the monster she's putting her faith in.

I let my hand fall away, already mourning the loss of contact. "Let's go," I say, opening my door. "The sooner we get this over with, the sooner I can get you out of here."

As we walk toward the building, my hand finds the small of her back, a possessive touch that's becoming second nature. I guide her through the revolving door, my eyes scanning our surroundings for any potential threats. The lobby is all polished marble and sleek lines, designed to impress and intimidate. The receptionist behind the curved desk looks up as we approach, her plastic smile faltering slightly when she meets my gaze.

Then her eyes shift to Emerald, lingering a fraction too long, assessing her with a look that says she knows exactly why Emmitt requested this meeting with my teenage stepdaughter.

My fingers dig into Emerald's back possessively. Mine. The urge to shield her from even this stranger's gaze makes my jaw clench. No one gets to look at her like that.

"Miss Delacroix," the receptionist says, her voice overly bright before her eyes dart uncertainly to me, "and... Mr. Astor. Mr. Caldwell is expecting you. Fifteenth floor.

I nod curtly, steering Emerald toward the elevator without bothering to respond. As the doors slide shut, I feel her lean into me slightly, seeking reassurance. I tighten my grip on her waist, pulling her closer.

"Remember," I murmur, my lips against her temple. "You don't have to say or do anything you're not comfortable with. I'll handle Emmitt."

She nods, but I can feel the tension radiating off her in waves. When the elevator dings and the doors open, I have to resist the urge to simply scoop her up and carry her back to the car.

Emmitt's assistant, a nervous-looking young woman with perfectly styled hair, is waiting for us. "Mr. Astor, Miss Delacroix," she says, her voice slightly strained. "This way, please."

As we follow her down the hallway, I notice the way she keeps glancing over her shoulder, her eyes darting between Emerald and me. There's a wariness there, a poorly disguised discomfort that sets off warning bells in my head. How many other young women has Emmitt lured into his office under the guise of "business"?

The thought makes my blood boil, and I have to consciously unclench my fist before we reach his office.

The man himself is waiting behind an ostentatious desk when we enter, and I watch his practiced smile falter when he spots me beside Emerald. "Cohen," he says, voice tight as he stands, clearly thrown off his game. His eyes shift to Emerald and warm considerably. "And Emerald. I wasn't expecting company for our meeting."

His eyes zero in on my stepdaughter, roving over her body in a way that makes me want to pop them like grapes with my bare hands. The hunger in his gaze is unmistakable, and it takes every ounce of self-control I possess not to lunge across the desk and snap his neck.

"Emmitt," I say, my voice cold enough to freeze hell itself. "Let's get this over with, shall we?"

He gestures to the chairs in front of his desk with forced politeness. "Please, sit. Can I offer either of you anything?"

"We're fine," I say curtly, guiding Emerald to sit before unbuttoning my jacket and taking the chair next to her. I angle my body slightly, creating a barrier between her and Emmitt. A clear message that he'll have to go through me to get to her.

"Right," Emmitt says, his jaw tight as he settles back in his chair. "Let's discuss the charity auction. Emerald, your mother speaks highly of your attention to detail. I'm looking forward to working closely with you on this."

I watch as Emerald shifts in her seat, her discomfort palpable. "I... I'll do my best," she says softly, her eyes flicking to me before returning to Emmitt.

"Perfect," Emmitt says, and something dark flashes in his eyes that makes my fingers itch to wrap around his throat. "We'll need several meetings to get everything organized properly. I was thinking dinner might be more... comfortable. There's this private bistro—"

"That won't be necessary," I cut in, my voice sharp enough to slice through steel. "Any further discussions can be handled via email or conference call."

Emmitt's eyes narrow slightly, his mask of affability slipping. "Now, Cohen," he says, his tone patronizing. "I'm sure Emerald is more than capable of handling a simple business dinner. After all, she'll need to learn how to navigate these social situations if she's going to take over her mother's empire someday."

I lean forward, my elbows on my knees, fixing Emmitt with the same stare I give defendants right before I destroy their lives in court. "Let me be very clear," I say, letting ice coat every syllable. "Emerald will not be attending any private dinners or meetings with you. Ever. If you have business to discuss, you can do it through me."

The tension in the room ratchets up several notches, the air thick with unspoken threats. Emmitt's face flushes, a vein pulsing in his forehead as he struggles to maintain his composure.

"I see," he says finally, his voice tight. "Well then, let's discuss the auction plans. Emerald—"

"You won't be discussing anything with her," I interject smoothly, letting my lawyer's smile spread across my face. "Emerald's role will be purely ceremonial. A figurehead, nothing more."

Emmitt's eyes narrow, his lips pressing into a thin line. "Is that so? And what gives you the right to make that decision? Last I checked, you were just the husband, not the parent."

The raw fucking audacity of this pathetic excuse for a man thinking he has any say over what's mine makes my vision go red around the edges. Every predatory instinct I possess screams at me to show him exactly what kind of "husband" I am, to make him understand with broken bones and blood exactly who Emerald belongs to.

But then I feel it, Emerald's small hand on my arm, her touch searing through my jacket. The urge to protect her wars with my need to destroy the threat in front of us. I take a measured breath, letting cold calculation replace hot rage.

"Let me explain something, Emmitt," I say, each word precise as a bullet. "What I am to her isn't your concern. What is your concern is understanding that if you so much as breathe in her direction again, they'll never find all the pieces."

Emmitt leans back in his chair, a slow, calculating smile spreading across his face. "So protective of your stepdaughter, aren't you, Astor? I wonder what Madeline would think about just how... invested you are in Emerald's welfare."

The implication in his words makes something lethal unfurl in my chest. I rise slowly from my chair, savoring the flicker of uncertainty that crosses his face as I plant my hands on his desk and lean in close.

"You'll handle the auction yourself," I say, my voice soft but razor-sharp. "And you'll tell Madeline that Emerald was absolutely perfect, everything you hoped for. Because if you don't, if you breathe one word about anything else..." I let the threat hang between us, watching his throat work as he swallows.

"Are you threatening me?" He tries to sound confident, but I catch the tremor in his voice. "Maybe I should tell Madeline exactly how her husband looks at her daughter. How he touches her."

I smile then, letting him see exactly why the Savage Six trust me to handle their dirtiest work. "By all means, tell her. But ask yourself this—do you really think you'll survive what comes after?"

The color drains from his face as the reality of his situation finally sinks in. He's not just playing with fire anymore—he's standing in gasoline and I'm holding the match.

"Now," I say, straightening up, "we're done here. Emerald?"

She stands quickly, and I place my hand on her lower back, letting my thumb sneak up under her sweatshirt so it brushes against her skin while I guide her toward the door. The contact grounds me, reminds me why I can't simply end this piece of shit right here.

“This isn’t over,” Emmitt calls after us, his composure finally shattering to reveal the desperate little man beneath.

I pause at the threshold, turning back just enough to let him see the promise of violence in my eyes. "Keep pushing, Emmitt. I'd love to show you how this ends."