When Hearts Collide

1. EmmaI stared at the old plastic wall clock with dread. Each second inched closer to half past eight in the morning. I had work at nine, and I already hated my life. I had just moved out of the orphanage a year ago and gotten myself a new place in the city, a shabby one-room apartment, all thanks to the Orphanage's matron, who put in a good word for me with the Landlord, and I got a lucky one-time discount. But that wasn't what made me hate my life. It was my workplace, which was basically a shop that sold fruit at the marketplace. Mr. Erik was the boss, a man who had it for me the day he first laid his eyes on me. "So you are the orphan that the matron recommended to work here?" He snarled at me on the first day, licking his lips from corner to corner as if I were a meal to him. It was very creepy. "I didn't know you were a girl," he said, staring at my breasts for a very long time. I will never forget. I should have known, because he made it his life's work to torment me. He

3. Emma. "Alright, young lady. This is as far as I go." The vehicle came to a stop before a large gate. A large, burly man in his late forties smoked at the wheel. "Thank you, sir." I offered him some money but he refused. "It's on the house.""Oh Alexei no, I can't accept that—""We have known each other for a while now. This is the least I can do for you." He held a hand out and smiled at me. "Thank you so much." I held my hands together, a show of gratitude. Alexei winked at me and drove off with a cloud of tobacco smoke coming out of his driver's seat. I sighed nervously and turned around, facing the large wrought iron gates. It was further down a path, lined with hedges on both sides. Three guards stared at me like hawks from a distance. I had felt their eyes on me the moment I touched down from the van. I quickly brought out a mirror, checking my best dress—a well-fitted black dress with white helms and white cuffs at the end that stopped at my knee, which called for th

5. Mason. "Tss—ow! You d—don't need to do that." Emma protested. It was amazing how her voice sounded so soothing despite the pain she was going through. "Do what?" I blinked slowly. She seemed to follow my every movement with those eyes of hers. We were back in my office, on the other side of the mansion. She sat in a chair while I applied some first aid treatment to her hand. "You don't....you don't need to clean my bruise," she spoke shyly. She looked away, her face a pink patch of red. I adjusted my position in front of her and held her knuckles. She scraped her hands badly when the guards wanted to throw her out. It was the second time this week I had come just in time to save her. I gently doused the back of her left palm with alcohol and generously placed two small bandage plasters there. "Well, I think it is my responsibility because I had you come here, and you met with my brother, Damon, who could have ended much worse." I went back to the table and placed the bottle o