Emma sat on the edge of her bed, her gaze drifting to the sunlight streaming through the curtains.
She had finished dressing up, her outfit elegant yet casual—just enough for a simple lunch with an old friend. But her mind wasn't on Chris. Instead, it circled back to Alex, like it always seemed to these days.
What's he thinking right now? She wondered, her lips curling into a faint smile. It was almost noon, and she could imagine him pacing his office, pretending to be unbothered, yet stewing with jealousy.
Her laughter bubbled up as she remembered the look on his face the night before when Claire casually mentioned Chris.
His knuckles had turned white around his fork, and his jaw had tightened in that almost imperceptible way he probably thought no one noticed.
What a way to pretend he didn't care. She thought with a shake of her head, her smile still in place.
Her smile faded as another thought crept in. The kiss. Why did he apologize after kissing me if her seeing another man would bother him so much?
She wondered, frowning. The memory of his words—how he had looked her in the eyes and said it was a mistake that wouldn't happen again—clashed with the way his actions betrayed him.
He didn't look at her like she was just some business arrangement. His lingering gazes, his fleeting touches, the way his mood darkened at the mere mention of Chris… It doesn't add up. None of it seemed to make sense.
The more she thought about it the more she found herself believing what Claire had said about Alex being in love with her.
But if that were true, why was he holding back? She questioned, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees.
Did he think she didn't notice the way he always found excuses to be around her? Did he think she didn't feel the tension that simmered between them?
Why was he pretending? Why wouldn't he just ask her or even tell her he loved her?
Does he think I'll reject him? Or is he afraid of something else? What could it be? She asked herself, her eyes narrowed.
For a fleeting moment, Emma considered confronting him.
Just putting all the cards on the table and asking him why he pretended to be indifferent when his every move said otherwise.
But then she shook her head, shoving the thoughts aside. No. I'm not going to make it easy for him. Let him come to me.
She was going to have him pay for saying those words to her. She told herself.
Deciding to distract herself, she stood and made her way to Claire's room. She knocked lightly before pushing the door open.
A flicker of surprise passed through her face when she saw that Claire was still lounging in her in house wear. "You're not dressed?" Emma asked, confused.
Claire glanced up from the magazine she was flipping through to look at Emma.
"You look beautiful," Claire said and Emma nodded.
"Thanks. Why aren't you dressed? It's almost noon. We should be leaving now," Emma said with a worried frown.
"I'm not going," she said casually, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.
Emma frowned. "What? Why?"
Claire shrugged, sitting up and tossing the magazine aside. "Because Chris invited you, not me. I only told Alex I was coming so he wouldn't worry. I never planned to go."
Emma crossed her arms. "Claire, you can't just back out now. I already told Chris you'd be coming. You heard me at the dining."
"It doesn't matter," Claire said, waving a hand dismissively. "Three's a crowd, anyway. Besides, you're just catching up. I trust you can handle that without me."
Emma's lips pressed into a thin line. "If that's the case, I'm not going either."
Claire raised an eyebrow, amused. "Why not? He specifically asked you out yesterday. You and him going out was already settled before we decided I'd tag along. So, why not?"
Emma hesitated before sitting on the edge of Claire's bed. "Because I don't think I'm ready for this. It's been a year since I last saw him, and honestly, I only said yes because you already did. I didn't want him to feel bad yesterday."
Claire gave her a knowing look. "Emma, you can't back out now. It's rude, and you'll hurt his feelings."
Emma looked away, feeling guilty. "Maybe, but I've already decided to cancel it today when he calls. I didn't because I thought we'd be going together."
"That's bad for Chris," Claire said, her tone light but with a hint of reproach.
"I know," Emma admitted softly. "Especially since he thinks you're beautiful."
Claire blinked, taken aback. "What?" she asked, her cheeks flushing ever so slightly.
Emma turned back to her, a small smirk tugging at her lips. "He said you're beautiful."
Claire felt the heat rise to her cheeks, but she quickly masked her reaction with a nonchalant laugh.
"He did?" Claire asked and Emma nodded, a teasing smile playing on her lips.
"Well, in that case, I can't let him down, can I?" she said, standing and stretching. "Give me a few minutes to get ready. We can't have Chris missing out on the chance to see two beautiful women."
Emma shook her head with a laugh. "You're impossible."
Claire winked. "And everyone love me for it. Now, go touch up your makeup or something. We'll leave as soon as I'm done," she said and Emma nodded before returning to her room.
Away from there, Alex paced back and forth in his office, the polished floor beneath him bearing witness to his restless steps.
His hands were clenched into fists at his sides, then loosened as he dragged one through his hair, sighing heavily, his frustration barely contained.
The view outside his window—the sprawling city skyline—did little to distract him. He had a lot of work to do but he had been unable to concentrate on anything.
His mind was tethered to Emma, her laughter, her smile, and now, the frustrating thought of her spending time with another man.
He paused mid-step, his jaw tightening as Claire's words replayed in his head. Chris. Her old college admirer. The name left a sour taste in his mouth.
No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stop imagining Emma, glowing and radiant, sitting across from Chris, laughing at his jokes, and perhaps even blushing at his compliments.
The thought made Alex's chest tighten with an ache he didn't want to acknowledge but couldn't ignore.
She deserves to be happy, he thought. Even if it's not with me.
But the thought did nothing to ease the storm inside him. He gritted his teeth, frustrated at himself for being so consumed by jealousy.
He exhaled sharply and sat down, but the seat felt too constraining, too small for the weight of his emotions. He shot back to his feet, resuming his pacing.
A part of him wanted to go to Emma, to tell her how he truly felt. To tell her that she wasn't just a part of some deal to him anymore, that somewhere along the line, he'd fallen in love with her.
But as soon as the thought took root, his logical side pushed back. She doesn't feel the same. She agreed to this arrangement because it was practical, not because of love. And she deserves someone who can give her happiness without drama.
His fingers brushed over his phone on the desk. He stared at it, considering calling her for a long moment.
Would it be so bad to tell her? He wondered. But then he imagined her response—kind, polite, and distant. The thought of her rejection, of her retreating further from him, made him shove the phone away.
"No," he muttered under his breath. "Respect her boundaries. She's free to live her life how she wants."
Yet, as much as he told himself that, his protective instincts wouldn't relent.
He picked up the phone and dialed the leader of Emma's guard's line. When Harry's voice came through, Alex didn't waste time.
"Harry," he said curtly, his voice low but firm. "Emma has plans to meet someone today. The guy she met yesterday. I want you and your team to remain close but discreet. Don't let her out of your sight."
"Yes, sir," Harry responded without hesitation. "Do you anticipate any issues?"
Alex hesitated, his hand tightening around the phone. "No, but I'd rather not take any chances. Report back to me if anything out of the ordinary happens."
"Understood," Harry said before the line disconnected.
Alex dropped the phone back onto the desk, leaning his hands on the polished surface. He stared down at the wood grain, his mind swirling with thoughts he couldn't untangle.
He loved her. He was certain of it now. But that love wasn't something he could simply confess. Not when he had no idea how she felt. Not when there was a chance she'd push him away.
Let her be happy, he told himself, though the words felt hollow. Yet, deep down, he couldn't help but hope that Emma would see him differently one day. That she'd choose him—not out of obligation, but out of love.