She yanked her hand back like she’d been burned and clutched it to her chest. “S-Sorry, sir.” Her voice was barely a whisper. Alex raised an eyebrow, but didn’t let go of her gaze. “Sit down, Emma.” His voice was low. Quiet. But it left no room to argue. Emma’s mouth went dry. She wanted to run. She wanted to sink into the ground. But something in the way he said her name not like a stranger, not like a servant, just… Emma made her legs feel weak. She sat. But she scooted as far to the edge of the bench as she could, leaving a whole person’s worth of space between them. The silence stretched. It was thick, uncomfortable, and somehow electric. Emma could hear her own heartbeat in her ears. She could feel Alex’s eyes on her, not in a creepy way, but in a way that made her hyper aware of everything the way her hands were trembling, the way her lips felt dry, the way she was suddenly very conscious of how close his knee was to hers. Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore. “S Sir… wha
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