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Drago: Okay. What do you say we get their info and drop in on both of them. Then we can just interrogate them and either put a bullet in their head if one of them is Orlov or just beat the shit out of them for getting too close to your girl.
Ivan: She’s not my girl.
Drago: Right.
I rolled my eyes at his response, but knew he was right. Even as I wrote that she wasn’t my girl, every cell in my being rebelled. I wasn’t sure if I believed either guy was Orlov, but I knew I felt vicious satisfaction at the idea of visiting Drew and Belshaw and pounding the shit out of both of them for hovering around Emmy.
These guys knew she was taken and they still put their hands on her? No fucking way I was going to let that slide. She might be confused about their actions, but I wasn’t. I knew what those dickheads were up to—they were testing the waters.
Especially Belshaw, that predatory, unprofessional fuck.
Of course, after tonight, I wouldn’t be surprised if she added me to the cluster of assholes hanging around her.
I acted like such a dick. There was nothing that she could do that was right. She reached out to me, I pushed her away. She pushed me away, and I was pissed.
I was able to admit that her small rejection, pushing me away and walking home alone, sent an unfamiliar and unwelcome pain through my chest. Watching her walk by herself, her shoulders shaking as she tried to control her crying had me wanting to punch my fist through a piece of concrete.
I knew I couldn’t have it both ways, but I was now as uncomfortable with her rejection as I was with her attachment.
I was so fucked up.
And now, I had to text her and act all business.
Ivan: I have to text Emmy and make sure her roommate isn’t with him. It would be awkward as fuck if we rolled up to his place to pulverize him, and Delaney was there. She doesn't know anything that’s going on with the Orlov situation. The longer she’s in the dark, the better.
Drago: Hit me back up when you find out and we’ll take a run at both of them tonight.
I pulled up my text thread with Emmy, my fingers hovering briefly before typing.
Ivan: Is your roommate with Drew right now?
It took her a minute to respond and even though her lack of response made perfect sense given my behavior, I frowned down at the phone until I saw the little bubbles that indicated she was typing.
Emmy: I don’t know. I was just about to call you—I think I have a problem. Orlov was in my room. There’s a note here from him.
My throat locked up as I read her message. Orlov had been in her fucking room?
I wrenched the steering wheel into a U-turn and sped back to her dorm, then hit call on my phone.
“Hello?” she answered in a small voice.
“Emmy, get out of your room and go downstairs in a public area right fucking now, okay?”
“Yes,” she said quickly, probably eager to hear a suggestion that would give her some peace of mind. “Will…will you stay on the phone with me until you get here?” she asked in a quiet, tentative voice, like she hated to ask, like she was bothering me, and my heart gave a brutal squeeze. I’d made her feel that way. Like she was a burden, a job, an annoying obligation.
“Yes, I’ll stay on with you. Tell me where you are right now.” I jerked into a parking space and threw my car into park, nearly stripping my transmission.
“I’m walking down the stairs. I didn’t want to wait for the elevator,” she said, and I could hear the echo of her voice in the stairway.
“Okay, I’m getting out of my car now. I’m almost there,” I said.
“Okay,” she said. “I’m downstairs by the front desk. There’s an RA down here.”
“Good. I’m about there. Open the door for me.”
I waited for a moment until I saw Emmy walk toward me looking as beautiful and sad and fucking vulnerable as when I left. Her eyes still looked a little red, and remembering her tearful face felt like a dagger to the gut.
“Thanks for coming,” she said as she ushered me inside.