Chapter 8: Will you pick that up?

Chapter 8: Will you pick that up?

Emily

PRESENT

I breathe in and out slowly as the knock sounds again, louder this time, heavier, like it carries intention, like it carries him. I already know it’s him. Seth is at school and the house is quiet, too quiet, the kind of silence that presses against your chest until breathing feels like work. I should have left, should have gone out to run some errands, but I didn’t. I stayed, because I knew he would show up and I wanted to be here when he did. My feet move before my mind can catch up, each step toward the door heavier than the last, my heart pounding so hard it feels like it might give me away before I even open it.

When I open the door, I am met with those cold grey eyes once again, and my heart betrays me instantly, skipping, stuttering like it remembers him before I can stop it. “Adrian…” I say softly, his name slipping out like it still belongs to him. He slides his hands into his pockets and tilts his head to the left, that same tilt, the same one he used to do when he watched me too closely, when it felt like he was studying me, hunting me. Poaching… I don’t even know if that’s the right word, but it felt like it then, and it still feels like it now.

“Can I come in?” he asks, his voice low, controlled, and I almost laugh, almost. Instead, I cross my arms over my chest, trying to steady myself, but his eyes drop for a second, following the movement, and he lets out a quiet chuckle like he’s already amused by me. “What do you want, Adrian, I told you Seth is not your son, so I don’t think there’s anything left for you here… go back to wherever you came from,” I say, forcing strength into my voice even though it trembles underneath.

He takes a step forward and it startles me enough to make me step back too. “Do you really expect me to believe that, Emily?” he asks softly, taking another step, closing the distance like it’s nothing. “Don’t you dare come any closer,” I warn, but he only chuckles again, dark and unbothered, and before I can react, my foot catches on the mat. Everything tilts and I almost fall, but he catches me, of course he does. His hand wraps around my waist, firm and unyielding, pulling me flush against him like my body remembers exactly where it fits.

Time slows, no… it stops. His grip tightens just slightly, just enough to make my breath hitch, and then he leans down, his lips brushing dangerously close to my ear, his breath warm against my skin. “I am not going anywhere, Emily,” he murmurs, his voice sinking into me like something permanent, something dangerous. “You’re mine.”

__

9 YEARS AGO

Emily

I quickly straighten up, clearing my throat as I start speaking fast, listing his schedule for the day like it’s the only thing keeping me grounded. He stands there, one hand holding his briefcase, the other tucked into his pocket, his head tilting slightly as he watches me, that look , intense, unreadable, like he’s studying me too closely. “Uhm, did you get that Mr Kingsley?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady, and he straightens slowly, nodding once. “Yes, I did… you’re coming with.”

I nod and turn to walk into my office, my heart pounding hard in my chest, and the second the door closes behind me, I lean against it, pressing a hand to my chest as I feel my heartbeat racing uncontrollably. “Get it together Emily, nothing will ever happen between you and Adrian,” I whisper to myself, like a warning, like a prayer. I walk to my desk and sit down, my morning coffee long forgotten, because my mind won’t stop replaying it, the way he held my waist, the way he pulled me close, the way he leaned in, his breath brushing against my neck. I shake my head and stand up, walking to the window, gripping it slightly as I try to ground myself. This cannot be happening, I cannot be feeling things for him, it hasn’t even been a month. “You can do this Emily, without even thinking about him,” I whisper again, softer this time, less convincing.

__

Adrian Kingsley

We sit in the backseat of the car on our way to a brunch meeting with Mr Willard, the silence stretching between us, thick and charged. I steal a glance at her and she has her eyes on the iPad, scrolling, focused, composed like nothing affects her. I sigh and cross my legs, looking out the window, but my mind doesn’t follow. I knew what I was doing when I hired her, she is poor and desperate, and people like that tend to work harder, more efficiently, because they need this job.

I glance at her again and she sighs, looking up suddenly. “Do you have anything to say Mr Kingsley?” she asks, and I shake my head. “No,” I say, but my thoughts betray me, dragging me back to this morning, to the way she fit against me like she belonged there. My phone rings and the caller ID reads Gwen, I watch it ring until it stops, it rings again and I ignore it, then a third time. Emily sighs softly. “Will you pick that up?” she asks, and I glance at her, amused despite myself, no one has ever had the nerve to speak to me like that. I switch it off instead and look out the window again, but my mind drifts to that day, the day everything changed, the day I told her she looked poor and she came back less than three hours later looking like a powerhouse. I couldn’t help but watch her as she walked into that office.

__/

Emily

We are now at the high rise restaurant and Mr Willard is already waiting for us. I take a seat next to Adrian, but I can’t ignore the way Mr Willard’s eyes ransack my body as we walk in, slow and shameless, another old creep. The meeting starts and I stay on standby, listening, jotting down everything, even recording just in case I miss something. “Now, if you don’t mind me asking Kingsley, can I have your assistant’s contacts?” he says, and I feel disgust rise instantly in my chest.

I am about to stand up, ready to give him a piece of my mind, when suddenly I feel it, a warm, firm hand resting on my knee. I freeze, my breath catching as my eyes snap to Mr Kingsley. “I don’t play when it comes to my staff, Mr Willard, if that’s it, thank you for the lovely meal,” he says calmly, but there is something sharp underneath his tone, something dangerous. Then he turns to me. “We can go.” He stands, and I follow him, even though my mind is still stuck on that moment, on his hand, on the way my body reacted to it… why did I react like that?

The elevator doors close as soon as we step in, and the silence that follows is heavy, suffocating. My heart is still fluttering, my thoughts tangled, my body betraying me in ways I don’t understand. It’s been a week Emily, one week, you cannot be caught acting out with your boss. I exhale slowly, tilting my head back, trying to steady myself, trying to breathe, I just need distance, space, air.

But before I can move, before I can even think clearly, I feel it again.

His hand.

This time gripping my wrist, firm, unyielding, pulling me back until my back hits the cold elevator wall, my breath catching as his body closes the space between us, his presence swallowing the air around me. “Look at me,” he says softly, and I do, because I can’t not. His eyes are darker now, not cold, not distant, but something else entirely, something dangerous, something that makes my pulse spike.

“You felt that,” he murmurs, his voice low, certain.

I shake my head, but the lie doesn’t even form properly.

His grip tightens slightly.

“Don’t lie to me, Emily,” he whispers, his gaze dropping briefly to my lips before returning to my eyes, and something inside me unravels completely. “Because if you did…”

He leans closer, his breath brushing against my skin, his voice turning into a quiet threat.

“I won’t stop next time.”

The elevator dings.

But neither of us moves.

And somehow…

That scares me more than anything.