She headed for the meeting room, her heels clicking against the marble floor. Her phone buzzed in her hand, and without hesitation, she pressed it to her ear.
"Turn it on. Now."
An off the piercing shriek of the fire alarm echoed through the building, blaring louder. Water poured from the ceiling, drenching everything and everyone. The doors to the meeting room burst open, and shivering figures scrambled hastedly toward the emergency exits.
She smiled, satisfied. This was the power of being the chairman's daughter. No one could ignore her when she wanted attention. She stepped through the now-abandoned room, her eyes immediately landing on him.
He froze the moment he saw her, shocked. "What are you doing here? That's the fire alarm."
But her gaze was fixed on him, watching as his clothes clung to his skin, the water making his shirt stick to his torso. She stood there, unmoving, her breath steady like she was waiting to devour her favorite dessert.
Seeing she wasn't going to make any move, he reached for her hand, to pull her away from the mess. But she was faster. She slid past him, blocking the door, her hand pushing it closed with a slam.
"What fire?" she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
His jaw tightened. Then, it dawned on him—the fire alarm, the water, everything—it was all a set-up. He scoffed and roughly yanked his hand from hers, turning away from her in frustration. "That was an important meeting for the company. What, your little prank couldn't wait?"
She chuckled softly, the sound almost fading. "The company? My father's company, you mean?" she bit out.
He opened his mouth, ready to argue, but before he could, she was on him—her hands grabbing his face, pulling him toward her with a force that matched her urgency.
She needed him. Their lips met, the kiss rough and needy. She pressed her body into him, a silent plea for him to feel something, anything.
He shoved her away, gasping for air. "What are you doing?"
"I'm not that young girl anymore," she whispered, her hands still on his face as she leaned in again. "Look at me. What more could you possibly want?"
He scoffed, his chest rising and falling with barely controlled anger. "Everything," he said, "but not you."
She didn't flinch. He's said worse, pushed her farther away in the past, but she was willing to be toss aside. She met his gaze head-on. "There's no point. I'll do this again and again and again. You'll never get rid of me."
The water finally stopped spraying, leaving a heavy silence between them. He stared at her, drenched to the bone, before walking to a nearby cabinet. He grabbed a towel and placed it around her shoulders, brushing off the fringe of hair that was draining into her blouse.
"You should get out before someone sees you," he muttered, his back turned to her as he fiddled with the door knob, ushering her out.
Without a second thought, she shrugged off the towel, holding his gaze. "Let's get married."
He went dumbfounded for a second, but then he returned to his usual cold composure. "And then? Your parents will be happy for you?"
"I don't care," she replied, sobered. "It's about us, not them."
"About you, you mean," he said, his voice bitter. "I never said I wanted to get married to you."
Her breath caught in her throat. This man—this man who had been her everything for so long—was rejecting her once again. She had done almost everything, and yet, it was never enough.
"Kravan," she said his name, a whisper of desperation. He was the only reason she was here, standing in this room, drenched and humiliated. But still, he wouldn't even look at her the way she wanted.
He sighed deeply, clearly done with the conversation. "I'll tell the help desk you're here," he said, turning toward the door.
Her voice rang out, desperate, raw. "I'll pay you!" she shouted, her words hanging in the air like a challenge. "Anything."
He froze on track and turned back to her. "Why would you want to buy something that doesn't want to be bought?" he asked, his voice low, almost sad.
That was all he had done for her for years. All he could do. Pity her, like she was some orphaned mutt. But she didn't need his pity. She needs him.
"I love you,"
"Emily—"
"That's all that matters."
"And what about me?" He asked, stepping toward her, his gaze darkening as he saw the unshed tears in her eyes. "Does it not matter if I don't love you?"
She gulped.
She never really thought about what he wanted. But obviously, like he said, he wanted everything but her. He wanted the bundles, the top of the ladder and she could just give it to him if he would allow her.
"Everything." She uttered. "I'm willing to give everything to you—"
Before she could say more, he caught her by the waist and jerked her to his chest, capturing her lips in a kiss that was both urgent and crushing.
It was everything she had dreamed of—every ounce of yearning she'd carried for so long, all in that moment. She melted into his arms, desperately hoping he'd never let her go, ever.
He pulled away suddenly, his breath ragged. "Fine," he murmured amidst short breaths. "Let's do it. Let's get married."