The Guest Emma Cline Review Novels & Stories

I take a deep breath and knock on my master's office " Come in Emma, " I hear Ace's voice says I open the door and bring myself over to their deck " Is everything alright? ," Clay asks " Yes, Sir I just have a question ," He motions for me to sit down " What's the question? " " well um, ," I blush " I well uh ," " Emma, just spit it out already. We haven't got all, day " Ace, says closing down his laptop giving me his full attention

She didn’t even pretend to acknowledge me. “Wow. You should’ve told me you were bringing a guest, Ari.” She stepped in close, tilting her head just enough to let her hair fall over her shoulder. “And not just any guest. Ethan Cole.” I felt Ethan tense beside me. Emma’s eyes dragged over him shamelessly, her voice dropping into something softer. “I’ve read so much about you.” He didn’t even look at her. “Good for you.” Emma’s smile twitched. “I just mean—you’re even more impressive in person.”

When they reached the restaurant elegant and quiet, reserved for the entire private room at the back Mark parked in the lot behind it. Emma stepped out first. The dress hugged her breasts, the slit revealing the long line of her leg with every step. She could already feel the remote buzzing faintly through the fabric of her purse, Jax’s finger somewhere across the city pressing the button that would make her clit pulse at the next setting.

"Want me to see you off?" "No need." "Then promise me. Don't look back." "I won't." My phone suddenly buzzed. Ethan. I looked at the name on the screen and waited a few seconds before answering. The other end was noisy, like a corridor at the training center. His voice was tight with anger. "Emma, what did you send to Claire?" I didn't say anything. "I just finished a simulator debrief. Didn't sleep all night. What exactly are you trying to do?"

Emma was different. Even though she had wondered about her aunt’s fixation on the former, the few times she had spent with the redhead told her that the latter was strong willed, and can survive anywhere. And when she had seen how she had thrown Claire, or rather flung her to the air as a ragdoll without so much as lifting a finger, she knew she had made the right choice. “You are sorry? Well, sorry wouldn’t bring back Emma now, would it? It wouldn’t bring back our spies now, would it?”

Emma felt her heart race as they reached the entrance. “Do you think anyone is inside?” Emma whispered. “The only way to find out is to go in and check who the anonymous is,” Mrs. Williams replied. She pushed the door, and it gave a creaking sound. They stepped inside the thick and dusty air welcomed them in. “Hello?” Emma called, her voice echoing in the space. Fear gripped Emma's heart as she sighted an image approaching, a man, tall and rugged, with a familiar face that sent a chill down Emma’s spine. “I’m glad you came,” he said, his tone calm yet unsettling.

"I heard Leon brought a woman home. So I figured I should come say hi." Her smile was dazzling. Claire instantly felt a little insecure and shyly looked down. "I’m Emma." The woman reached out with a perfectly manicured hand. "I’ve been gone for a while, and suddenly I hear Leon brought someone back. I know it’s late, but... congrats on your recovery." Claire shook her hand. "I’m Claire." "Nice to meet you, Claire," Emma said warmly. "Leon’s never brought a woman home before. You’re the first."

To sit alone in this room while Damian’s heart bled somewhere across the ocean for a woman who wasn’t her. Later that night, she wandered into Damian’s office. His scent lingered — clean, sharp, intoxicating. His desk was organized as always, every pen aligned perfectly, every file labeled in neat precision. But what caught her attention was the screen on his laptop. An open browser. A paused image. Emery Lincoln. Clara’s breath hitched. The article was from a Paris lifestyle magazine — a feature on new international talents. Emery stood in front of a modern art exhibit, elegant in a cream blouse, her hair shorter, her smile calm.

A branch from one of the bushes, pulled in front of the gate and attached it to a set of old windchimes. I was testing it out when Emma came to call me to breakfast. “What are you doing?” she signed. I raised my eyebrows. “Lawn care?” She looked around, noting the coconut conditioner slip-and-slide next in front of the bushes. “Uh-huh. Lawn care.” Emma was there when the bad man tried to get Claire at FantasyQuest. She knows what’s up. She thought for a moment and then an evil grin spread over her face. “You know what our lawn needs?” She ran into the house.

she said. "It's Emma," Daniel corrected. Emma wasn't in the mood for this. She wasn't going to get into some argument and embarrass herself over a man... That wasn't even hers. So she excused herself, leaving Daniel with Michelle. "Seems like she scares easily" Emma heard Michelle say as she walked away. —————————————— Emma breathed deeply as she washed her hands in the bathroom. This moment alone, without the narrow eyed glares from both Michelle and the other guests, was a mercy.