Chapter 6
Emma stared at her ceiling, the afternoon sunlight streaming through the window. Her apartment was quiet, save for the faint hum of traffic outside. She had spent the past hour replaying everything that had happened, trying to fill in the gaps in her memory. The ID card sat on her nightstand, almost mocking her. It felt like a key to something much bigger than she was ready for.
"Frank Parker," she whispered, testing the name on her tongue. It sounded like it belonged to someone untouchable, someone far removed from her small, simple life.
Her stomach grumbled, pulling her out of her thoughts. She realized she hadn't eaten all day. Reluctantly, she got up, padding into her tiny kitchen to make a sandwich. As she spread peanut butter onto a slice of bread, her phone buzzed again. This time, it wasn't Lila it was her boss.
"Emma," his gruff voice came through the speaker when she answered. "We're short-staffed today. Can you come in?"
Emma glanced at the clock. She had planned to spend the day decompressing, but her boss didn't sound like he'd take no for an answer. "Sure," she said, suppressing a sigh. "I'll be there in an hour."
After hanging up, she quickly finished her sandwich and got ready. Her uniform a plain black polo shirt and khakis felt even more drab than usual. She looked at herself in the mirror and shook her head. There was no point worrying about how she looked. She wasn't trying to impress anyone.
Frank stood in the boardroom, his arms crossed as he listened to one of the directors drone on about quarterly projections. His mind kept wandering, and it was becoming increasingly obvious. "Frank, do you have anything to add?" one of the directors asked, pulling him back to reality.
Frank straightened. "I think the numbers speak for themselves," he said, his tone clipped. "But we should focus on innovative solutions for the next quarter. Let's table this discussion and revisit it next week."
The directors exchanged glances but nodded. Frank was already gathering his papers, signaling the meeting was over. Once back in his office, he closed the door and leaned against it, exhaling sharply. He couldn't shake the feeling that he'd left something unfinished.
Emma. He hadn't been able to stop thinking about her since the moment he woke up. The memory of her laugh, her nervous smile, and the way she had looked at him, all of it lingered like an ache in his chest.
He sat at his desk and opened his laptop, his fingers hesitating over the keyboard. He knew it was reckless, but he couldn't help himself. He typed her name into the search bar.
Nothing. It wasn't surprising. Emma hadn't seemed like the type to live a flashy, public life. But it only made her more intriguing. Frank leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. He had spent years building walls around himself, keeping people at arm's length to protect his family's reputation. But Emma had slipped through those defenses without even trying.
The café was bustling when Emma arrived. She tied her apron around her waist and got to work, taking orders and making coffee as fast as she could. The monotony of the job was oddly comforting. It kept her mind off Frank and the mess she'd found herself in.
"Emma, can you handle the counter for a bit?" her coworker asked, carrying a tray of drinks to a nearby table.
"Sure," Emma replied, wiping her hands on a towel.
She moved to the register, forcing a smile as customers lined up. Most of them barely looked at her, too busy staring at their phones or chatting with friends. But one man caught her attention. He was tall, well-dressed, and had an air of confidence that reminded her of... him.
Emma's stomach flipped, but she quickly looked away, focusing on the customer in front of her. It wasn't Frank. It couldn't be. By the time her shift ended, Emma was exhausted. She collapsed onto a chair in the break room, rubbing her temples.
"You okay?" her manager asked, poking his head in.
"Yeah," Emma lied. "Just tired."
He nodded and disappeared, leaving her alone with her thoughts.
Emma sat on her couch that night, the TV playing in the background. She had tried everything to distract herself—reading, cleaning, even scrolling through social media—but nothing worked. Her eyes kept drifting to the ID card on the coffee table. She knew she couldn't avoid it forever.
Finally, she picked it up and flipped it over. The back had an address printed on it: Parker Enterprises, Midtown Manhattan. Her heart pounded as she stared at it. She could go there. She could find him. But what would she say?
Emma set the card down and pulled her knees to her chest. The idea of facing Frank again was terrifying, but she couldn't ignore the nagging feeling in the back of her mind. She needed answers.
Frank sat in his penthouse, a glass of whiskey in his hand. The city lights sparkled below, but he barely noticed. He had spent the evening trying to focus on work, but it was useless. His mind kept drifting back to Emma.
What if she hated him? What if she never wanted to see him again?
Frank sighed, running a hand through his hair. He had always been good at solving problems, but this was different. This wasn't about business or money.
This was about her.
And for the first time in his life, he didn't know what to do.