Page 77 of Sing For Us

“What the fuck? I wish I had killed him sooner.”

“You literally saved my life. When the cops found me, they placed me with my maternal aunt and uncle. They explained what my father did, and I got therapy. It took a few years, but I’m definitely fine now. Hell, I even had dreams about murdering him with my own hands.” Her explanation leaves me stunned. I like to believe that I can read people well, and this girl is not fucking lying.

“Still, it must have been traumatic seeing what I did,” I tell her.

“It wasn’t pleasant, but it wasn’t something I wasn’t used to.”

“You grew up in our world.”

“Yes, and I got out. My maternal aunt and uncle were never in the business, but they knew of it. They hated it that my mother, God rest her soul, got married to my father.”

“I can only imagine.” I wipe the sweat from my hands by rubbing them against my pants. “Well, I can’t thank you enough for this.”

“It looks like you needed this more than me.” She is so fucking mature in her responses, and I applaud her for that.

“Emma, if you ever need something, please call me. I don’t care what it is, money, a job, a car, it’s not important.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that. I have to get going now. The restaurant will open in thirty minutes.”

“Of course.” I stand up, and she guides me outside the restaurant. “I’m really sorry, Emma,” I tell her.

“Noa”–she puts a hand on my shoulder–“you don’t need to seek forgiveness with me. But you have to forgive yourself.” And with that, she goes inside. I’m dumbfounded.

Do I need to forgive myself?

And can I do that?

I go up to Sara, who is leaning against her car, eager to tell her everything.

But I stop myself because she looks angry.

“I know you have a lot to think about right now, and what I am about to say isn’t going to alleviate your concerns.”

“What is going on?”

“Lana is at the estate.”

“Whose?”

“Yours.”

Chapter twenty-seven

Noa

If this day couldn’t get any crazier, my ex just arrived at my estate.

I am raging, and Sara is right there with me. When I look at my best friend, her hands are gripped on the steering wheel, and her eyes are laser-focused on the road. She is probably thinking about the possibilities of what’s going to happen once we arrive. So am I.

Lana’s been unpredictable the last couple of weeks, and that makes her dangerous. What makes this precarious situation even more risky are my feelings towards her. Lana and I agreed that after we take Dario down, we would never see each other. It’s for the best, so why am I conflicted about it?

I poured my heart out to her and confessed I still love her—which still stands—and she didn’t say anything. She is her own woman and not required to reciprocate my feelings, but I know that she still wants me. When I held her back to me…I felt it. My heart was pounding as she melted into my embrace. The tough demeanor she carries disappeared in that moment. Lana might have lied about everything, but she can’t lie about how her body reacts to mine.

The only thing I wanted to do in that moment was to bend her over, take my knife and taste her precious blood. In the past, when I went out and attended these charity galas, people thought of me as this ‘nice’ guy and ladies would flock to me. None of them ascended to that level of depravity I acquired in my sexual tastes.

Lana was the only one.

When I think about how she withered underneath my touch and icy gaze, I feel my dick getting harder by the second. Discreetly, I adjust my pants so Sara doesn’t notice—my best friend doesn’t need to see that shit. She doesn’t need to know how I think about my vengeful ex.