Page 43 of Black Wave

I suspect she hid details that would anger me, but her parents and sister died. I couldn’t say anything more after seeing the guilt surface in her expression after mentioning them. That she feels responsible for their deaths instead of blaming that monster she dated is ridiculous. When she also told me about overhearing a conversation between that scumbag and his father when she was imprisoned in their house right before her cousin came in to remove her from that place, it was suspicious as hell. I already suspected he had something to do with the fire that killed her family. After she overheard the conversation alluding to Julian’s father having covered up the incident, it is obvious that there is more going on than just Julian’s obsession with Emma, but it remains to be seen.

I won’t let him anywhere near her. The only way I can do that is to provide her with twenty-four-seven security. I’ll also needto tell my father and speak with her uncle about his plans so we can put forth a unified front. I won’t have anything happen to her. Just the thought has me in a tailspin. If he found her in Padre Island, he would still be searching for her, and she probably won’t escape him for long. I suspect he found her sooner than she realized, and he was about to execute another planned attempt at kidnapping her.

I get in the car and call Philip to meet me here. There is no way that I will allow her to be unguarded without me or someone looking after her. As I check my emails and catch up on returning messages, I notice Philip, Emma’s newly appointed security detail, pull up in the parking lot. I get out of the car and tell him what is at stake. After many assurances that he understands that Emma is not to leave his sight, I send a message to Emma before I leave the parking lot of her complex.

Eduardo

Philip is outside your apartment and is keeping watch on you.

DO NOT go anywhere without him.

I’m waiting for her to text me back. The minutes tick by, and I begin to feel unsettled as the city lights pass by in a blur of colors through my window. I tap my fingers on the steering wheel, trying to calm the anxiety I have radiating through my body. No other person can unsettle me like this—only Emma. A text message alert displays on my car screen. I hit play, and a female voice speaks Emma’s message.

Emma

Yes, sir.

I groan at the double entendre her comment insinuates. I speak into the car’s voice assistant and send off a reply to her message.

Eduardo

Are you trying to make me wreck? Miss you already.

This time her answer comes without delay.

Emma

Please don’t wreck.

Miss you more. Chat later?

Her sincerity makes me smile. I love how much she cares, and I don’t miss the hidden meaning of her comment.

Eduardo

I’ll never leave you again. More than chat later;)

Once those words enter the cyber air, I know truer words have never been said. I was forced to leave Emma, but nothing can come between us again. I snort aloud in the car for my use of a ‘wink emoji.’

“What the fuck is wrong with me?” I utter to no one.

My brother would have a field day with these jokes at my expense. I have, for one, been busting his balls about his devotion to his fiancée. I’ll have to do better when I see them, I suppose.

I pull into my parking spot and take the private elevator to my residence. My place has a separate key card for the keypad to get to my floor. It would be much easier to have Emma stay here. Then, I would not have to worry as much about her safety, not tomention the security system in my home is top-notch. That is a huge relief because I’ll be able to keep an eye on her.

I just have to address her working schedule.

I don’t care if she works. I fully support her independence, but not when a psychopath is stalking her. At least she has some safety measures in place there at the hospital. I’ll just have to add to it. Contemplating how I will do all of this, I head to my office to make the calls that need to be made today.

“Eduardo. How are you, son?” I hear a door close as I suspect he is going to his office for a more private conversation. I rarely phone my father for a social call. I reserve those for my darling of a mother.

“Father, I need to talk with you about a girl.”

I hear him getting out some glasses as if he thinks this is a call for celebration. He must think I am telling him about a marriage proposal or accidental pregnancy. Either of which would result in both, one way or the other. To be married with an heir. The click of ice confirms my suspicions.

“Continue. I can’t wait—” He stops abruptly at the interruption.

“It’s not simple.” I know he can’t possibly guess where I am going with this.

---