Once Emerson agrees to take the cash, I can finally breathe again. As soon as she told me where the marks came from, I knew I had to talk her into quitting, but getting her to accept the money was an uphill battle. It reminded me how different she is from the women I normally go after.
Usually I go for women who care more about my bank account than what I can offer them and looking back at it, that was probably why I never went back for seconds. But Emerson is different. The hesitation that was so clear on her face as she fought her own battle of wills before agreeing to put her pride to the side so I can keep her safe. Even as we work side by side, ticking off the final things for the gala, I can see how the decision is weighing on her, but she doesn’t go back on it, doesn’t even mention it.
“Is your dress going to cover those bruises? Or maybe some bracelets?” I ask as her sweatshirt rides up to uncover the marks that make my blood boil.
Emerson looks at her wrist, and then to me before shaking her head. “I’ll have to cover them with makeup.” She shrugs and goes back to what she’s doing.
Before I even realize I’m doing it, I’m texting Snow, something I don’t do as often as I should.
If I give you my credit card, can you do some shopping for me? You can buy yourself whatever you want…
Bro, I have my own credit card that Storm still hasn’t put a limit on. But I’ll do the shopping anyway. Need a new dress for this charity thing we’re going to anyway.
I need you to buy some dresses for someone. Long sleeve. Get some options and I’ll work it out. About your size.
Ooooh, Rayne has a girlfriend!
I roll my eyes but can’t help the smile tugging at my lips while I tell her to shut up and shove my phone back into my pocket. I’ve never wanted a woman to have a claim on me, never wanted to admit feelings because I’ve never had them before. But with Emerson, it’s different. I want those feelings, I want to tell everyone I meet about my woman, and I want to worship her every day of my goddamn life.
Once the last item is ticked off the list, I gather her coat up from the rack by the door and hold it out to her. “Time to go home.”
Emerson stares at me for a moment before looking at the clock. “I can’t go home. It’s not even lunchtime.”
“We got all the shit done. Now it’s time for you to go home and get some sleep. You’re dead on your feet and I’m not taking no for an answer.”
She huffs out a breath. “It would be the first time if you did,” she mutters under her breath.
“What was that?” I raise an eyebrow, barely containing the smirk that threatens.
“Nothing,” Emerson chimes as she looks around her desk. “I still have a lot to do here. Just because the gala is sorted doesn’t mean I don’t have other things that need to be done.”
I sigh and cross to the desk, resting both hands on the desk and leaning in to where she’s sitting, our noses almost touching. “I see I haven’t made myself clear, or maybe you’re just not listening, so let me repeat myself, and this is the last time I’ll do it in such a… formal setting. The next time I have to remind you that your health and safety are the most important thing to me, I will do it with you bent over my lap while I redden your ass. Do I make myself clear?”
The blush that creeps up her cheeks is adorable, and I find myself wanting to make her blush at every single opportunity just to see it over and over again. Her eyes are wide, like she’s not sure if I mean what I said, but in reality, giving her a well-deserved spanking is the tip of the fucking iceberg.
When she doesn’t answer right away, I reach out and slide my fingers into her hair, fisting the strands at the nape.
“I asked you a question, sweet girl, I expect an answer.”
Emerson’s eyes dilate at the bite of pain, and I barely contain the growl that claws its way up my throat. “Yes, I understand,” she whispers.
“Good. Now get your shit. I’ll take you home.”
For a moment I think she’s going to argue, but she thinks better of it and closes her laptop before shoving it into her handbag. She thinks she’s going to do work at home, but she has another thing coming. “I just need to let Dad know I’m going home.” She chews on her bottom lip, like she’s nervous to leave early. My girl might go toe to toe with me at every opportunity, but behind that, she’s afraid to go against the grain or break the rules.
I nod and hold out my hand for her to give me her handbag, but she looks from me to my hand like she can’t quite work out what I’m asking for. “The bag, sweet girl.”
“I can carry it.” Emerson lifts the bag higher on her shoulder, trying to prove a point.
“I know you can, but when you’re with me, you don’t have to.”
After another few moments of staring at me like I’ve grown a second head, she sighs and hands the bag over. “Thank you,” she says quietly before disappearing out the back where John is fixing the back fence.
I offered to help him with it, but he insisted Emerson needed my help more, which was true. Being around them is good for me. It reminds me that doing nice things for other people is rewarding, and even for someone who rarely thinks about anyone but myself, it woke up the part of my cold dead heart I thought was long gone.
It’s only a few minutes before she meets me by the front door, still looking unsure about skipping out on work for the afternoon. Without thinking about it, I take her hand in mine and tug her toward my car.
“What about my car?” Emerson asks but doesn’t pull against my hold.
“You won’t need it.” I open the passenger side door, waiting for her to climb in.
Emerson sighs exasperatedly, her hands landing on her hips rebelliously. “Of course I’ll need my car, Rayne. I need to come to work tomorrow. I need to run some errands before that. I need my car.”
“I will drive you wherever you need to go,” I tell her immediately before grasping her around the waist and lifting her into the car. Without giving her a chance to push back, I wrap the seat belt around her and clip it into place. I don’t give her a chance to reply, quickly closing the door and walking around to the driver’s side.
Emerson is staring at her hands in her lap when I turn the car on and peel out of the parking lot. Again, I’m faced with the urge to take her back to my penthouse, but I’ve already thrown so much at her in such a short span of time, I need to tread carefully or she’s going to run in the other direction. That’s the last thing I want. She’s already fighting herself at every turn. Her body wants to submit to me. She craves it, but her mind is telling her to get as far away from me as she can.
I reach across the console and grasp her tiny hand in my much larger one, the need to touch her overwhelming. “What’s wrong?” I ask gently.
Before I met Emerson, I didn’t know I had a soft bone in my body. I mean, I kill people for a living, but she brings it out in me. Hiding under the tough exterior, she shows everyone is someone in need of softness, and I want to be that for her.
“This is…” She hesitates, picking her words carefully. “A lot. It’s a lot to take in and I’m not used to being told what to do.”
I look over at her, my face deadpan. “Shocking.”
Emerson giggles and fuck me if it’s not the most beautiful fucking sound I’ve ever heard in my life. “Shut up. I just mean I’ve never relied on anyone before, and it’s not as easy as you seem to think it is.”
“Careful who you’re telling to shut up.” I smirk. “What about your dad?”
She shakes her head. “Not really. Not since I was a kid when my mom was around. When she left, my dad didn’t cope well and spent all his time at the Center. I picked up the cooking, cleaning and general life stuff, and haven’t really allowed myself to lean on anyone else since.”
If I hadn’t spent the last two weeks I’ve known her obsessing over every move she makes, I wouldn’t notice the sadness in her voice, the loneliness that tugs at my own.
I don’t bother asking about her mom, because I already know the answers. I read the file Everett sent me with every other documented part of Emerson’s life.
“It’s foreign to me to have someone want to take care of me,” she explains. “I guess I’ve always been good at keeping people at arm’s length so it doesn’t hurt when they leave.”
I squeeze her hand. “Well sweet girl, you better get used to leaning on someone.” I half expect her to fight me like she has at every other turn, but instead she squeezes my hand, and when I glance over at her, she’s smiling.
We drive in comfortable silence, the soft hum of the radio filling the car as we turn toward her apartment. I’ll need to broach the subject of her car and housing situation soon, because neither are safe and I can’t handle the idea that she’s in danger.
When we pull up to her apartment, Emerson turns in her seat to face me. “Thank you for everything this morning, and for driving me home.” She smiles, finally pulling her hand from mine. I feel the break in our contact immediately, missing the warmth I feel when our bodies touch.
“You don’t think I’m going to let you head up there alone and start working, do you?” I chuckle.
Her eyes widen. “I wasn’t going to work, I thought you were just dropping me off…”
I shake my head. “No such luck.” I wink and quickly push my door open, jogging around to her side just in time to meet her as she climbs out.
“You don’t have to come up, I know you’re busy.” Emerson lifts the heavy handbag onto her shoulder.
“Not too busy for you, sweet girl.” I hold my hand out to her and she only stares at it for a moment before she hands it over. “Keys?”
Emerson sighs as we start walking toward the entrance to the stairs, tugging her car keys from the pocket of her jeans. “You’re bossy, you know that?”
“Get used to it.”
