Page 6 of Together We Burn
“I expect a return on my investment, Harlin, and soon. I shouldn’t have to remind you; I don’t like to be kept waiting.”
A long-stemmed glass of champagne appeared in front of me as Emilia ended her call, joining me by the window with her glass held out for us to clink together in celebration.
Stevie’s mom stood before me, impeccably dressed, with a broad smile plastered over her red lips as she slid a hand down my arm.
“To us,” she said, and tapped her glass to mine. Taking a sip, she exhaled. “I apologise for that. It seems the team I had hired to locate Nathaniel is having greater difficulty than they had initially expected. Which means my daughter might be better at her job thanIinitially expected.”
I fought the smile that threatened to emerge from my lips and looked at my glass instead. Emilia, sensing my hesitation, placed her fingers under the base and tilted the champagne toward my mouth.
“I may be a tad premature, but I just couldn’t wait.”
The champagne tasted like acid as I swallowed; each bubble that fizzed and popped down my throat, making me want to gag. Emilia turned her back and walked to her desk, leaving the overpowering scent of her perfume behind her as she flopped into her chair. The skirt of her dress rode up to reveal her thighs as she crossed her legs. With hooded eyes, she licked her lips and shamelessly began drawing circles against her skin.
I sat my glass on the nearest table, leaving most of the champagne untouched, and shoved my hands into my trouser pockets, my nails digging into my palms.
“I wouldn’t say we are anywhere near celebrating. Nothing went to plan,” I stated. Emilia shrugged unperturbed, dismissing my comment with a wave of her hand before pulling out some cosmetics from her top drawer and touching up her makeup.
“Nonsense, Jacob darling. I may not have her in my grasp anymore, but that won’t stop me from getting what I want.”
“Emilia, she could have died,” I said louder than necessary as I watched the woman who had stabbed her daughter finish applying another coat of red lipstick from behind her mahogany desk with little emotion.
Emilia’s hand waved through the air, and she cocked her head with a look that said she knew I cared more than I’d let on about what went down that night. She popped the lipstick cap back on and placed it and a small compact mirror on the top of her desk. Leaning forward with narrowed eyes, she laid her hands one on top of the other, and dragged her gaze down my body.
“Jakey,” she purred seductively, and my eyes itched to roll at the ridiculousness of her flirtation attempts. “I’ve told you, call me Emmy. I do love the way it sounds when you say it.”
My jaw clenched as she ignored the magnitude of the situation. She needed Stevie alive, regardless of all the empty threats she’d told her when she had her locked up in that room.
“Please, come sit.” She tapped the opposite side of her desk, gesturing to an oversized chair that sat empty in front of her. Inhaling deeply, I reluctantly complied, not wanting to be in her office for longer than necessary.
“Why am I here, Emilia?” I asked, annoyed with the little game she was playing. “What’s with the champagne? Has something changed?”
“Nope,” she replied, and I bit my tongue as I forced myself not to snap at her for wasting my time.
Silence stretched as we stared at each other, my frustration building by the second. This was more painful than getting a root canal, and right now, I’d opt for that over sitting with this woman.
Straightening my tie, I cleared my throat. Emilia swallowed as she followed my hand’s movement, absentmindedly running her finger along her collarbone.
“Jacob.” The whisper of my name had the hairs on the back of my neck rising.
“You never did tell me why it is so important that you have your grandson,” I said, trying to keep the subject on Stevie and steer the conversation in a direction I could use to get beneficial information from her.
She drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Spinning slightly in her chair, she straightened and said, “I don’t get my empire unless I have an heir.” The anger in her tone was evident, although she looked unfazed by the whole thing. She continued with a tight smile. “Completely archaic, considering I have proved my worth more than once. However, as stipulated in the bylaws, it’s needed.”
I frowned. I thought she did have control of her business. Her father was nearing seventy-five, and the last I checked, he was enjoying retirement, golfing almost daily.
Emilia’s smile widened as she saw the questions fill my head.
“There is a board of directors who still answers to my father. As you know, he is indeed living his golden years in luxury, but he refuses to negate the heir clause.” She rolled her eyes, picked up her champagne flute, and took a sip.
“You have an heir. Two of them.”
“Hadan heir,” Emilia growled as an ugly sneer crossed her face. “Ronan, God rest his soul, is no longer here thanks to Stefany. She has now stood in my way not once but twice from getting what I want. And like I told her, neither she nor her sister are capable of running my empire when the time comes to pass it on.”
My jaw clenched as I remembered Stevie’s admission to killing her paedophilic brother after he groomed and assaulted her sister as a child, resulting in the conception of her nephew, Nathan. For years, Emilia thought Will Jones was responsible for Ronan’s death, but it was the little spitfire herself who pulled the trigger that changed the course of her life.
“And imagine my shock to find out it was also her who took out my organ trafficking contact. Nissaney was of great value to me, so not only has she stopped me from claiming my throne, but she is affecting my profit margins.” She pushed from her chair, got to her feet, smoothed down her dress, and muttered, “Perhaps I should have killed her when I had the chance.”
Emilia rounded her desk, her white bodycon dress clinging to her body, highlighting her tits and ass in a way that she should have looked like mutton dressed as lamb, but she looked good for a fifty-year-old mother of three.
