Back at his apartment, Alex sat silently on his Italian leather sofa, contemplating how best to broach the delicate subject of Emma's departure. The heiress, perhaps sensing his mood, perched demurely on the opposite chair, hands folded in her lap as she watched him with barely concealed anxiety.
"You barely ate anything. Are you hungry?" she ventured after a moment.
Alex remained lost in thought, not responding.
"I could fry you an egg..."
"No!" Alex's response came with almost comical speed, accompanied by a visible shudder.
"You were so quiet, I thought you might be hungry," Emma offered with a gentle smile, seemingly pleased to have finally drawn a response.
"May I ask you something?" Alex said carefully after a moment's consideration. "That business card you gave me... is it genuine?"
"Of course it is! Though right now..." Emma clasped her hands together pleadingly, "I've left home. I have nothing. Please don't make me leave!"
Her piteous expression almost weakened his resolve. Still, the gulf between his imagined domestic goddess and the reality before him was simply too vast to ignore. Beyond her stunning appearance and masterful deployment of puppy-dog eyes, she seemed to possess no practical skills whatsoever.
"You—"
"You're not going to throw me out, are you?" she interrupted, tears welling in her eyes. "I have nowhere else to go, no friends in Manhattan, and all my things were stolen... Could I stay just a few more days? Once I find a job, I'll..." her voice trailed off, confidence clearly faltering.
"You've been job hunting?" Alex asked, surprised by this revelation.
"Yes, but no one will hire me. I have nothing but my ID—no diplomas, no references. But I won't give up!" Her determination was oddly touching.
"It's hopeless," Alex said gently. "You should go home. Your family must be worried after all these days."
"Are... are you really making me leave?" Emma's eyes brimmed with tears, making Alex feel like the villain in a Victorian melodrama.
His silence was answer enough. Not that he didn't want to help—he simply lacked both the obligation and, more importantly, the fortitude to endure any more of her "domestic assistance."
Seeing his resolve, Emma grew desperate. "I won't be a freeloader! I'll clean your apartment, do your laundry, cook your meals..."
"You? Cook?" Alex couldn't help but laugh. *Was that meant to be a threat?*
"I may not know how now, but I can learn! I was an excellent student. I already have some experience," she grabbed his arm imploringly, her gestures more reminiscent of a pleading kitten than the sophisticated heiress she purported to be. "Trust me, like I trusted you when we first met!"
"Have you ever done any housework before? Cleaning? Laundry?" Alex asked, though he already suspected the answer.
"No," she admitted promptly.
And there it was—his last hope extinguished. The gap between fantasy and reality had never seemed quite so vast.
Alex suddenly felt foolish for even asking. Of course the heiress had lived a life of privilege, with staff attending to her every need. His questions had been pointless.
This simply wouldn't do. At this rate, she'd destroy everything he owned within days, possibly burn down the building. And if her father found out... He might not care much about his job, but he genuinely liked his colleagues. Starting over somewhere else would be a pain.
"Miss Carter, I should be honest with you. I'm just a junior employee at Carter Sales..."
"Carter Sales? Isn't that the Manhattan company my father acquired a few years ago?" Emma's eyes lit up with recognition. "You work there?"
"Yes, Miss Carter. I understand why you left home, but if your father finds out you're staying here... Well, harboring the boss's runaway daughter isn't exactly career-enhancing behavior. It's not that I don't want to help, but..." Alex tried to look appropriately regretful, hoping she'd take the hint and leave voluntarily.
"You really work at Carter Sales?" Emma asked intently.
"Yes," Alex nodded emphatically, certain she'd now understand his position.
"Perfect!" Emma suddenly leaped up, her earlier despair transformed into jubilation.
*Wait... did I miss something?* Alex wondered, bewildered by her unexpected reaction.
Before he could process this turn of events, Emma plopped down beside him, grabbing his hands excitedly.
"This is wonderful—we're practically family! I'll stay here, and you'll take care of me!" she declared with absolute certainty.
"Who... who's family?" Alex stammered, his hands trembling in her grip. "Miss Carter, did you understand what I just said?"
"Of course! You want me to stay but you're worried about my father firing you, right?" She patted his shoulder reassuringly. "Don't worry, I won't tell him. Even if he finds out, I'll put in a good word for you. He dotes on me—he won't be angry."
"That's not what I meant—"
"Thank you for taking me in! I can't stay for free though. I'll be your housekeeper! I'll clean, do laundry, cook... Just think of me as your personal assistant. As for salary... a thousand dollars a month should be fine!" She tilted her head adorably, as if she were doing him an enormous favor.
"You..."
"You have work tomorrow, I won't keep you up!" With that, Emma bounced off to her room, leaving Alex stunned on the sofa as delighted squeals echoed from the guest bedroom.
"Did I... not explain clearly?" Alex sat there dazed, wondering exactly how this conversation had gone so spectacularly off the rails.