Yes. Yes, he would.
Chapter 17
Artem
Emma was nervous.
I tightened my hold on her hand to give her some of my strength and wishing I could give her everything she needed to get through this day. We didn’t know what to expect, but it didn’t matter. She was my wife, and no matter the outcome, she would remain in that position.
As my partner.
Instead of heading back to Alaska immediately now that the threat was all but eliminated, I had told Emma we would hang around, have the honeymoon that she deserved.
Which meant I kept her in my bed most of the time. Each day I felt this piece of me growing, the good piece that was my wife, and she chased away some of the darkness that had been there. Emma was the good part of me. Together we had explored the city, and she had showed me all her favorite places, places I recognized from the videos I had of her. It was different seeing it like this, though, how I would have liked to see it with her by my side. The memories we had here overrode anything I had felt for the city.
When she had asked to see her mom, I hadn’t denied her the request, quietly setting up the reunion between mother and daughter myself. With her father gone, her mother and brother were all the family she had left on that side at least, and before we returned to Alaska, I knew she needed closure with both of them. Harvey, she had already done, though I hoped that one day he would take me up on my offer to join my side. I kind of liked having my brother-in-law around.
“What do you think she will say?” Emma asked quietly as the car wound through the city, toward Emma’s childhood home.
I gripped her hand. “I don’t know, but it doesn’t matter. I hope you know it doesn’t matter. I still love you.”
She gave a faint smile, not meeting my eyes, and I tried not to let it bother me. Emma wasn’t going to leave me.
I wasn’t going to let her go that easily if she tried. Hell, I would give up my position as boss if it meant that I never had to live without her.
I had never had insecurity issues before, but damn, Emma made me constantly worry that I wasn’t good enough for her.
The car pulled through the gates and Emma’s breath caught as she gazed upon her childhood home, sitting forlorn at the top of the hill. I couldn’t help but wonder what was going through her mind, if she missed the person she was before I got involved in her life. I hadn’t given her a choice in her life, making her my wife and forcing her to live far away from this place.
I knew we had moved past that, but still I worried that one day she might realize she wanted something that I couldn’t give her, and I would be left alone.
The car pulled up to the front door and I tugged on her hand, forcing her to meet my eyes. “Em, if you decide to…if you need to stay, that is…”
She gave me a small smile, bringing our joined hands to her lips and pressing them against my hand. “While I appreciate you having the thoughts about your conscience now, my love, it’s far too late to get rid of me. I’m afraid you are stuck with me.”
Damn, she could slay me with her words. “I don’t want to get rid of you, Em. I want you to feel like you have a choice in your life, and I wasn’t so fucking good at allowing you to have those choices when we met.”
Her gaze softened. “I think I’m rubbing off on you, Artem.”
She was, and in the best fucking way. “You’re mine,” I growled, brushing my fingers over the rings on hers. “Always.”
“Always,” she repeated before releasing my hand. “Let’s do this.”
I let her climb out of the car and I followed, straightening my coat and sliding my hands through my hair. I didn’t want to admit it to her, but I was fucking nervous about this meeting. This was Emma’s mom, the woman who could get her daughter to see reason and take her from me. It wouldn’t be any less than I deserved for what I had put her mom through, but I really wanted to keep my wife.
Emma waited for me at the door and I cleared my throat as she knocked, the door opening almost immediately. “My baby!”
I watched as an older version of Emma pulled my wife into a hug, her sobs hard to listen to. This woman had been through some shit over the last month, and I was partially the cause of it.
Maybe I shouldn’t have come.
“Mom,” Emma cried out, hugging her close. “I’m so sorry it’s taken me this long to come. I just—with everything going on—”
“Nonsense,” her mom stated, pulling back to look at her daughter. “You look wonderful, more than wonderful. I’m so sorry, Emma. Your father.”
Emma squeezed her mother’s hands. “Can we go inside, Mom? I feel like someone is always watching us.”
Someone was. I had thwarted many a nosy reporter from gaining entrance to my penthouse over the last two days, realizing word was out that Emma was at least in my presence. I doubted that they had truly realized what had happened, and I preferred to keep it that way. Once we were safe in Alaska, I would send out word that we were married, but the last thing Emma needed was people prying into her personal life.
Into our personal life.
“Of course!” her mom stated before realizing that Emma wasn’t alone. I watched as her gaze grew hard and distrust filled her eyes as she gave me a once-over, causing me to feel like I was dirt under her heel. “Is this him?”
Emma looked over at me and I was relieved not to see the same reaction. Instead of hate, there was nothing but love in her gaze. “This is my husband, Artem Krylov. He saved my life and Harvey’s too.”
That was an exaggeration. I had put her in that shit.
Her mom didn’t look any more excited by her daughter’s words. “Come in then,” she said, eyeing me. “We have much to discuss.”
Shit. I was going up against a formidable opponent in Mrs. Kennedy.
I followed the women in and found myself in the kitchen, where various boxes were already being filled. “I’m packing up the house,” she explained. “They are going to let me sell it without Declan’s approval.”
“Can we help?” Emma asked.
Her mother shook her head. “I’ve got plenty of help, darling. Harvey already came and got his things. I don’t think we have anything left of yours.”
“No, I moved all my stuff years ago,” she replied as we took a seat at a small breakfast table.
“Well,” her mom said a moment later, reaching out to grab her daughter’s hand. I knew that desperation. I knew how she wanted to touch her a lot, to make sure she was really here. I did that all the time in the middle of the night, afraid that my time with Emma would just be some fucking dream to tease me about the future I could have.