He didn’t care about me at all.
Chapter 2
Artem
I pulled the car up the drive, clenching the steering wheel in my hands. I never got nervous, but tonight, I was a fucking wreck.
Well, on the inside. On the outside, I looked no different. It was a trait I had developed over my years as a boss, told not to show my emotion as it could be perceived as a weakness.
A weakness meant death, and now I had a fucking weakness. Her name was Emma, and I was going to ask her to come back to me.
I had mulled over my sister’s words, how I needed to give Emma a choice. Well, I was about to give her a choice, and I knew she was going to say no.
Probably, “Hell, no.”
But I was going to give it my best shot. The one thing I didn’t want to do, I was going to have to do.
I was going to have to tell her who I was. I never opened up to anyone. Hell, I had no reason to do so.
Emma was my wife, however, and if I wanted her to stay that way, then I was going to have to break down the walls between us and show her I was more than just the kidnapper that ruined her life. I could give her anything she wanted, make her wildest dreams come true.
I didn’t want to leave here tonight without her. I hadn’t needed someone in my life before like I needed Emma now. It was a strange feeling.
I pulled the car up near the house and shut off the engine, the sun setting in the distance. I hadn’t told anyone I was coming here or what my plan was. Anatoly would likely try to talk me out of it or just snatch Emma up so I would come back to the mansion.
Normally, I didn’t play it safe, nor did I do these sorts of things myself, but I knew if I sent anyone else, I could kiss Emma’s trust goodbye. Hell, I didn’t have it to begin with, but I wanted to work on it.
I wanted her to trust me. I was her husband, the man who would protect her and keep her safe.
That is, if I could get her to stay.
Damn, I felt like I had been hit on my head for thinking this way. This was far from the way I thought normally, but having Emma in my life had taken my normal and turned it on its head.
Climbing out, I adjusted my coat before walking up to the old farmhouse, my boots sinking in the fresh snow. After all this shit was over and Emma was mine, I was going to take us somewhere warm, where I could have Emma naked all the time.
I knocked on the door and waited, drumming my fingers against my thigh. I didn’t know what I would find once the door opened, but I knew Emma was still here.
The door opened and an older man glared at me, a pipe hanging from his lips. “What?”
Well, hell, I didn’t know what to say. “I need to see Emma.”
He arched a brow, clearly not intimidated by my presence. “Need to see her, eh?”
I cleared my throat. “Yeah. I know she’s here.”
He made a great show of pulling his pipe out of his mouth. “So? This is my damn house, and I decide who comes in and who comes out, got it?”
I never had to deal with hard-assed fathers when I was dating in high school. With my father’s status, the girls came to me, and the fathers, well, they were pleased that I was dating their daughters.
If dating was what you could call what I did with them.
This old guy was acting like Emma’s father or grandfather. “She’s my wife.”
“Well, as I see it, if she wanted to see you, she wouldn’t have left in the first place.”
He had me there. I gritted my teeth against my rising anger. “Can you at least ask her if she will see me? I need to discuss something with her.”
His eyes narrowed. “Why should I?”
I wanted to say it was because I was demanding it and I could have his throat cut in two seconds flat with the knife hidden in my boot. That wouldn’t get me any closer to Emma’s good graces, but hell, I wouldn’t have to deal with this asshole. “Because I’m standing on this doorstep, asking to see her. That should account for something.”
The man shook his pipe in my direction. “If you hurt that girl, I will gut you. We understand each other?”
I straightened my lapels. “All right.” While he was being annoying, at least Emma was safe here. This dude wasn’t going to let anyone in his house without his permission. “I’m not here to hurt her. You have my word.”
He snorted and I wanted to laugh. He had no idea who he was dealing with or what my word meant. “Wait here,” he finally said, disappearing into the house and shutting the door behind him.
I blew out a breath, watching it crystallize in the cold night air. If I didn’t know any better, I would think that the old man was going to have me stand out here all night and never get Emma.
Finally, the door opened, and my chest tightened as Emma filled the doorway, her gaze wary. “Artem.”
“Emma,” I replied, tucking my hands in my coat pockets so I wouldn’t reach for her. Damn, she was a sight for sore eyes. “Thank you for seeing me.”
She tucked her hair behind her ear nervously, avoiding my eyes. “Why are you here?”
“I’m here for you,” I blurted out.
She met my eyes then, her mouth parting. “Are you going to force me to come back?”
I sighed inwardly. “No, I’m not. Can I come in? It’s fucking cold out here.”
Emma moved aside and I stepped into the house, my eyes flickering over the outdated furniture in the living room, the roaring fire in the large fireplace.
And no sign of her old-ass defender.
Emma settled into one of the chairs before the fire and I took the other, clasping my hands together between my open legs. I was keyed up on the inside, but I couldn’t let her see me like that on the outside. It would only scare her away, and then I would be doing something stupid as a result. “Are you well?” I asked tightly.
“I’m fine,” she said softly. “Though your car may not be.”
“Yeah, I know,” I grinned. “You know, I loved that fucking car.”
A tiny smile crossed her lips. “I was growing fond of it too.”
My cock swelled at the thought of what we had done in that car before she had split and how much I would like to bend her over the chair she was sitting in right now. What we would do would be enough to give the old man a heart attack. “Why did you run, Emma?”
Her lips lost their smile. “You know why, Artem. I do not want to be anyone’s prisoner, and no matter how you try to paint that mansion, it’s a prison to me.”
I swallowed, knowing that this was about to be a turning point in this conversation. I had to tread softly here. “What if I didn’t make it a prison any longer?”