Chapter 20: The Stray I Adopted
"You need to get a job." Roya's voice cut through the comfortable silence like a knife, making Emris glance up from the book he wasn't reading.
He was sprawled out in the armchair, chewing on the last bite of the breakfast he had proudly stolen from Roya's plate. She had, begrudgingly, made herself another plate while muttering dark curses under her breath.
Emris grinned like a cat that got the cream. "These eggs? Perfect. They've never egged so well in their entire existence. Honestly, Dream, if writing doesn't work out, culinary stardom awaits." He moaned dramatically, savoring the bite as if he were on a cooking show.
Roya's green eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. 'I hope he chokes,' she thought venomously.
And, as if the universe heard her, he did.
Emris froze mid-bite, coughing violently and grabbing for the glass of water. Roya leaned forward slightly, eyes alight with hope. But no, the dramatic idiot managed to recover, gulping down the water and wiping his mouth with an air of triumph.
"I'm serious, Emris," Roya said, setting down her laptop. "You can't just loaf around here forever. You need a job."
"A job?" Emris repeated, as though she'd suggested he become a goat herder. "Me? Roya, I saved you from being stabbed. That's a full-time commitment right there." He smirked, leaning back as if the matter was settled. And how can I torment you properly if I'm busy working? he added to himself.
Roya crossed her arms, her expression pure disbelief. "I didn't ask you to play bodyguard. And I definitely didn't ask you to eat all my groceries and leave your socks everywhere."
"Socks," he said, wagging a finger at her, "are a sign of personality. They add character to the apartment."
"Your personality stinks."
"Only for you," Emris replied, flashing her a mischievous grin.
Roya ignored the warmth spreading in her chest and focused on the problem at hand. "You could at least try. Find something that doesn't require you to actually interact with people. You'd be great at... I don't know, being a night watchman."
Emris gasped, hand over his heart. "Staring at shadows all night? Dream, you wound me. No, I'm already employed as your emotional support hero. It's a tough gig, but someone has to do it."
"That's not a job!" she snapped, stepping closer and poking him in the chest.
He caught her finger mid-poke, his grip firm and annoyingly gentle. His piercing blue eyes softened, and the smirk faded into something quieter, something that made her heart stutter. "You're underestimating how much work it takes to deal with you, Dream."
Her breath hitched. His fingers lingered on hers, the air between them thick and electric. For a moment, she forgot what she was arguing about.
"I hate you," she muttered, but her voice lacked conviction.
"And yet," he murmured, his voice a low hum that sent shivers down her spine, "you keep me around."
Their faces were too close. His scent—soap and something uniquely him—invaded her senses. His eyes dipped to her lips, and she swore he leaned in just a fraction.
"Roya!" William's loud, panicked voice shattered the moment like glass.
Roya jumped back, and Emris groaned audibly, shooting a glare at the intruder. William stood in the doorway, holding a stack of papers and looking like he regretted every life choice that led him to this moment.
"Uh, sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt..." William trailed off, taking in the compromising position they'd been in.
"You're not interrupting anything," Roya said quickly, her voice flat as she stepped away from Emris.
"Exactly," Emris added, glaring at William. "So leave."
"Stay," Roya said firmly, silencing Emris with a look.
William hesitated, torn between obeying the glaring man-child or the She-devil who signed his paychecks. Ultimately, he chose Roya and cleared his throat awkwardly. "Anyway, uh, someone bought our publishing company, and the new owner wants to meet all the writers. Roya, you weren't answering your phone, so I came here myself."
"Who's the new owner?" Roya asked, crossing her arms.
"Zaiden Morvaine," William said, oblivious to the way both Roya and Emris stiffened at the name. "Funny coincidence, huh? Same name as your protagonist. This guy's a real dark horse—came out of nowhere and is buying up companies left and right. But I don't get why he'd buy a publishing house..."
Roya turned to Emris, her green eyes sharp with suspicion. "Zaiden is more capable than you," she said, her tone dripping with the disappointment of a parent scolding a child.
"Eh?" Emris blinked, looking genuinely offended.
"And he's fictional," she added with a smirk, enjoying his frustration.
William looked between them, confused but too scared to ask. "Uh, so, meeting's at noon. Don't be late," he said, quickly retreating from the room.
As soon as he was gone, Emris groaned dramatically and flopped onto the couch. "I'm not going."
"Yes, you are," Roya said, grabbing her laptop and heading toward her office.
"Why do I have to go?" he called after her.
"Because I said so," she replied, her voice fading as she disappeared down the hall.
Emris sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Zaiden Morvaine," he muttered under his breath. "What are you up to, old friend?"
****
"What are you doing?" Roya asked, her voice laced with annoyance as she stepped into the living room.
She froze, her green eyes narrowing at the sight of Emris. He was dressed head-to-toe in what could only be described as the quintessential bodyguard ensemble—a sharp black suit, a single earpiece tucked into his ear, and black aviator sunglasses that covered his piercing blue eyes.
Emris, leaning casually against the doorframe, didn't even flinch under her scrutiny. Instead, he straightened his tie with a practiced air and adjusted the lapel of his blazer like he belonged on the cover of Men in Black Monthly.
"Doing my job," he said, his voice deep and cold as if he'd suddenly transformed into the lead of a spy thriller.
"Your job?" Roya repeated, crossing her arms and arching a brow. "Since when do you have a job?"
"Since five minutes ago," he replied, finally turning to her with a smirk. "I am now officially Roya Amani's personal bodyguard. You're welcome, by the way."
Roya pinched the bridge of her nose, inhaling deeply. "I don't need a bodyguard, Emris. Least of all one who's about as competent as a soggy piece of toast."
"Soggy toast?" he echoed, feigning offense. "Dream, I am the Emris. Savior, warrior, hero extraordinaire. You're lucky I'm offering my services. My protection doesn't come cheap."
She snorted. "Oh, I see. You're trying to justify loafing around my apartment rent-free."
He leaned in slightly, lowering his glasses to reveal his stunning blue eyes. "You're just mad because you can't resist my charm."
"Or maybe," she countered, shoving her laptop into her bag, "I'm annoyed because I have to drag your overconfident self to a meeting with Zaiden Morvaine, of all people. Now that's someone who knows how to do his job."
His smirk faltered for just a second, his jaw tightening, but he recovered quickly. "Zaiden Morvaine might know business, but can he make you breakfast like I can?"
"Don't remind me of that disaster," she said, glaring.
"You ate it," he quipped.
"I tasted it and it almost killed my taste bud" she shot back, heading toward the door. "Now, let's go. Try not to embarrass me, Bodyguard Extraordinaire."
"Whatever." He rolled his eyes behind the black glasses.
---
The ride to the publishing house was tense. Roya, buried in her phone, fired off emails while Emris lounged in the passenger seat, feet propped up on the dashboard like he didn't have a care in the world.
"You know Zaiden isn't going to buy into your whole broody act, right?" she said, not looking up.
"Who's broody?" Emris asked, adjusting his sunglasses.
"You. You're like a walking advertisement for an angsty YA novel."
"I prefer 'mysterious and alluring,'" he replied smoothly.
Roya rolled her eyes. "Just... try not to do anything stupid."
"No promises," he said with a grin.
---
The conference room was sleek and intimidating, much like the man seated at the head of the table. Zaiden Morvaine, in all his enigmatic glory, radiated an aura of power that made everyone else in the room feel like extras in his personal drama.
His white hair fell artfully across his scarlet eyes—one darker than the other, framed by subtle glasses. His presence was overwhelming, his silence louder than any words.
"Roya Amani," Zaiden said finally, his voice a deep rumble that seemed to resonate in the very air. "Welcome."
"Thank you for having me, Mr. Morvaine," Roya replied, her voice steady, though her heart raced. She hadn't forgotten Emris's warnings—or Zaiden's role in the tangled narrative of their lives.
Emris, however, didn't seem intimidated. In fact, he looked downright unimpressed as he slouched into the chair beside Roya, sunglasses still firmly in place.
Zaiden's sharp eyes flicked to him. "And you are?"
"Her bodyguard," Emris said casually, leaning back and propping one ankle on his knee. "Personal protector. Slayer of breakfast. You know, the usual."
Zaiden's lips twitched, almost imperceptibly. "Interesting choice of help."
"Don't let his appearance fool you," Roya said dryly. "He's about as useful as a paper umbrella in a hurricane."
Emris smirked, leaning closer to her. "You wound me, Dream."
Zaiden watched their exchange with a subtle intensity that made Roya's skin crawl. She couldn't shake the feeling that he knew far more than he let on.
"I trust you've been briefed on the upcoming project," Zaiden said, finally turning his attention back to her.
"Yes," Roya replied, straightening. "But I'd like to hear your perspective on it."
As Zaiden launched into a detailed explanation, Emris tuned out, resting his chin on his hand. His gaze kept drifting to Roya, watching her with a mix of amusement and something softer, though he'd never admit it.
When the meeting ended, Zaiden stood, his imposing figure commanding attention even in the casual act of offering Roya a handshake. "I look forward to seeing what you'll bring to the table, Ms. Amani," he said smoothly.
Roya shook his hand, her expression polite but guarded. "Can we skip the formalities, Mr. Morvaine?" she asked, tilting her head. "I'm sure you didn't summon me here just to talk business."
Zaiden's scarlet eyes gleamed with something unreadable as he replied, "Will you believe me if I told you we're still trapped in a fictional world?"
The words hung in the air like an unexpected thunderclap. Emris frowned, his usually playful demeanor replaced with a sharp edge of suspicion. Roya, however, didn't miss a beat.
"Do you need therapy?" she asked, deadpan, her brow arching in that way that always seemed to scream disbelief.
Zaiden didn't react to her jab. Instead, his gaze remained steady. "It will become evident soon enough, Roya. The signs are already there, and it won't take long for you to see them."
Roya raised an eyebrow, pulling a business card from her bag and handing it to him. "Here's my therapist's number. You're welcome."
Zaiden allowed a ghost of a smile to flicker across his face, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "I'll keep that in mind," he said, slipping the card into his pocket like it was the most natural thing in the world.
As Roya and Emris turned to leave, Zaiden's calm voice cut through the air, stopping them in their tracks.
"And, Mr. Emris?"
Emris paused, one hand on the doorframe, turning slightly to glance back.
"Do try to keep her alive," Zaiden said, his tone level but heavy with an undercurrent of warning.
Emris's smirk returned, lazy and confident. "Don't worry. I'm the best at what I do."
Roya sighed, grabbing his arm and dragging him out before he could add anything else.
As they walked down the hall, Roya muttered under her breath, "I thought Zaiden was capable, but now I'm convinced he's crazier than you."
Emris chuckled, adjusting his sunglasses with exaggerated flair. "Oh, he's definitely a fan of my work. Did you see the way he looked at me? Pure admiration."
"He looked at you like you're an overgrown toddler with too much free time," she shot back, rolling her eyes.
"And yet," he replied, grinning as he shoved his hands into his pockets, "you keep me around. Starting to see a pattern here, Dream?"
Roya didn't dignify that with a response, though her lips twitched as if she were suppressing a smile. Behind them, Zaiden watched through the glass walls of the conference room, his scarlet eyes shadowed but unblinking.