“Yes.” She says, her head rolling back slightly. A tear rolls down my cheek as I shrink back into Ashley, whose cries have increased in volume.
I’m going to die.
Oh my God, I’m going to die.
Thirteen
Aiden
∞∞∞
I’m back at Corvallis, grabbing some of Emma’s things.
Since Ashley is staying with Ricky, there’s no fucking way in hell I’m allowing my girl to stay at this house alone. There’s no need for her to be here anyway since school is out. She tried to come with me, but I sent her shopping instead.
I know Emma loves the little place, but it’s garbage. I’m not against small homes; they can be quaint and cozy, if done right, but this place is a pit.
I can read people well, I’ve always been able to. Emma is the first girl I’ve come across in my life that is truly pure and good. But the first time I laid with her in her room, as I twirled her hair while she slept, her head pillowed on my chest and her sleepy breaths resonating in my ears, my eyes wandered to the speckled ceiling of her bedroom and I noted a hole in the drywall. My eyes trailed down to the bucket I hadn’t noticed that collected water on the floor.
That, and the many other things wrong with the house made the decision for me. I curse my piece of shit father for not being around for Ashley. The fact that he’s not in her life and wasn’t there to help her when she chose to rent instead of living on campus infuriates me and smothers me in guilt, I should have been there to help her... I am now. And it was in that moment I knew I wanted the girls out of the house.
I had my realtor greenlight my penthouse, no matter the cost. It costed an extra ten thousand to get it done so quickly, but I’m willing to pay whatever for her to live somewhere that didn’t affect her health. Ashley too.
I need to get the girls out of there. I have fixed their clogged sink four times in a week. I wish Ashley had talked to me, but it’s my fault. I need to be a better brother.
So busy and wrapped up in my career, I put her – my only real family – on the sidelines. But not anymore. I’m going to set the girls up.
The moving company is coming by today.
I have not told the girls yet. Hopefully, they aren’t too pissed.
I place Emma’s neatly folded clothes into her new Tiffany & Co. suitcase my personal assistant, Carmello, got. I know she’ll adore the luggage, seeing as her room is in Tiffany blue, before turning it away with a shy smile, embarrassed about me spending money on her. When that happens, I’ll ease her suffering by telling her I already had it in my closet.
I’m sure I’ll look funny carting around such a feminine suitcase.
But fuck it, what my girl likes is what she’ll get.
I grab some dresses I know she’ll look adorable in from her closet, relieved to find them modest looking. The thought of her parading around town, showing too much skin makes me seriously mental, though I’m sure she’ll look sexy as fuck in anything. Men will turn their heads no matter what she’s wearing. She doesn’t need to help the process.
I grab her things and a small vase from the bathroom. I noticed the vase always sat empty and I offered to get her a new one. I mean, it couldn’t fit more than one single flower. She declined. Maybe I’ll start bringing flowers to the apartment.
Passing by Ashley’s room reminds me of the talk I had with her about taking Emma to the club. She wasn’t happy, but eventually gave in when I stood my ground. She said Emma’s changing me.
Fuck she is. I won’t change for anything.
My phone buzzes incessantly in my pocket as I lock up. I fumble with the luggage and keys, cursing myself for not hiring someone to do this. I didn’t want a mover touching her panties and things. They can get everything else. I set the luggage in the truck of the car and pull out my phone.
Ricky’s name flashes on the screen.
Heavy breathing and cuss words echo from the other end of the line.
My body stiffens.
“They took them. The fucking Matarazzo’s took the girls.”
Tunnel vision.
Panic.
Seething fucking rage.
I curse myself for lying to her about what I do for a living.
I’m going to fucking kill them for even thinking about harming my little sister. I’m going to torture them until they beg for absolute mercy for even looking at my girl.
∞∞∞
Another call comes through, breaking me from my trance as I speed down the freeway. Clicking the button on the dash, the voice of the man I’m about to kill bleeds through the speakers of my Mercedes.
“Hello, Mr. Scott.” A familiar accented voice sounds on the other end.
Vinny Matarazzo.
Pure rage lines my tone. “Tell me where the fuck they are.”
My hands grip the steering wheel tightly as I head towards the city, going at least a hundred miles an hour.
“Tsk, tsk. I call the shots, understand?”
His arrogance would make me laugh if I wasn’t so enraged and in fear for my girl and Ash. I’ve never felt this before. This fear coursing through my veins.
“Get to the fucking point, Vinny,” I spit out, imagining my hands around his neck, watching the life drain from his pointless existence.
“I’ll call you with the details later.”
And the line goes dead.
A maniacal laugh escapes my clenched teeth. I thank God I have a tracker on Em. I know it’s a little crazy, but her safety is the absolute most important thing to me. After the stunt they pulled with the club, ditching my driver, I’m not taking any chances.
Picking Ricky up, we hightail to where her locator last pinged. An industrial
