The moment I saw Emma, something shifted—something I hadn't felt in a long time, if ever. It wasn't her desperation, her obvious need for my help. I'd seen that a thousand times before. No, it was something deeper, something unsettling that tugged at the edges of my control.
I pushed it down as soon as it surfaced. I couldn't afford distractions, especially not with someone like her. She was a client, a means to an end, just like all the others. That's what I told myself. But there was something about the way she looked at me—those wide, determined eyes—that didn't fit into any category I was used to. She wasn't like the rest, wasn't the broken figure I expected to walk into my office begging for salvation.
No, Emma was different.
I tried to ignore it, keeping my focus sharp as I laid out the terms of our deal. My voice was steady, cold, as always. Business was business, and I had perfected the art of making people feel small, insignificant. It was part of my advantage, the way I could strip down their defenses with just a few words, reducing them to pieces on my board. I was used to the distance, the detachment. It made everything easier—cleaner.
But as I watched her, something flickered in me, something I didn't like. Her eyes, her posture—she wasn't crumbling the way most did under the weight of my words. There was a fire there, one I hadn't expected, and it sparked something inside me that felt dangerously close to curiosity. No, it wasn't just curiosity. It was something sharper, something I couldn't name.
She hesitated before signing the contract, her hand trembling for just a fraction of a second, and in that hesitation, I felt it again—an unfamiliar pull. I leaned in, watching her more closely than I usually would, my gaze fixed on the way her fingers brushed the pen, the way her lips tightened as she made her decision. She was committing herself to me, just like they all did. But why did it feel different this time?
Why did it matter?
I forced myself to stay composed, to follow the script I'd written in my mind. Sign the papers. Make the deal. Walk away. It was always the same. But when she finally put the pen down, when the contract was signed, the usual satisfaction didn't come. Instead, there was something else, something foreign, gnawing at the edges of my carefully crafted detachment.
For the first time in years, I found myself wondering about the person sitting across from me—not just the businesswoman, not just the company she was desperately trying to save, but her. Emma. The way she squared her shoulders, the way she looked at me like she wanted to prove something, even now, even knowing she'd lost control. There was strength in her, a kind of strength that wasn't loud or obvious, but quietly defiant, burning beneath the surface.
It unsettled me.
I stood by the window, staring out at the city, but I could feel her presence behind me, like a weight pressing against the room. I couldn't shake it—the awareness of her, the strange way she had gotten under my skin without even trying. It was a vulnerability I hadn't allowed in years, not since I had learned how dangerous feelings could be in a world like mine.
When I finally turned back to her, our eyes met, and for the briefest moment, I felt something shift again—something dangerous. Her defiance, her desperation, her determination all mixed into one, and it hit me harder than I expected. I had seen hundreds of people like her before, but none of them had made me pause like this.
I told myself it was nothing, just a passing moment of intrigue, easily dismissed once I left the room. But as I walked toward the door, her image stayed with me, burned into my mind in a way I couldn't explain.
But a part of me—the part I hated to acknowledge—wondered if Emma would be different. And that thought lingered, long after I left the room, gnawing at me like an itch I couldn't scratch.
For the first time in as long as I could remember, I felt something I couldn't control.
And I wasn't sure I liked it. But one thing I know is that I should stay away from her and should strictly professional.