DAMON
Emery paces around the apartment like a volatile bomb; she can explode any second. But with what? Rage? Tears? Joy? I watch her carefully, intently, attempting to translate every movement, every breath, every glance in my direction. Her hostility toward me is understandable, but I did what I had to do. I have no qualms about doing everything in my power to get what I want. There's no line I wouldn't cross. There's no door I wouldn't break open.
"So, what do you think?"
Emery pauses in front of the balcony doors, arms crossed as she stares into the city. Eventually, she'll uncross those arms. She'll lower her guard. She'll trust me. I need her to trust me. This won't work without blinding trust. Patience isn't my strong suit, but I have no choice. I have to wait. She'll come to me when she's ready. When the dust settles, and she sees what I see, she'll get on her knees, and she'll thank me. Like Alison. But unlike Alison, she won't ever want to leave. I won't let her.
"As a kid, I used to hate coming to New York," Emery mutters as she steps onto the balcony, her hair blowing in the wind. She sighs. "I never thought I'd end up living here." She cranes her neck over her shoulder, eyes narrowed. "Against my will, might I add."
Ignoring the latter part of her statement, I join her outside. "I can't imagine why a child would hate such a vibrant city. I doubt Chesterfield has enough to stimulate a young mind."
She scoffs. "Not a lot of vibrancy in hospitals."
I frown. "Hospitals?"
"The view is nice," she muses, side-stepping an explanation. She takes a step forward, pressing up against the railing as she looks down. "It's a long way down." She leans over the edge, and fear zaps my chest as I reach out to grab her, but she pulls herself back as if sensing my distress. "If someone jumped... I wonder by which floor they'd regret it." Unease stirs in my gut by her morbid musings. "I'd probably make it to the fifth floor." She flicks her solemn gaze at me. "What about you? How far would you make it before wishing you never jumped?"
"We should go back inside," I say, needing her to step away from the edge. She's leaning too far now. She doesn't move, instead, she bends further against the railing. "Emery!"
"What?" She releases a string of worrisome giggles as her hands uncurl the railing and she holds her arms in the air. "Worried I'll jump?"
"Enough!" In one swift motion, I pull Emery toward me, scopping her into my arms With alarmed eyes, I stare at her as she chuckles and spins around to face me. "You think this is funny?" I shake my head. "Do not do that ever again, understand?"
She gives me a weak smile. "I'm kidding, Damon. Don't look so concerned."
"It's not funny, Miss Jones," I state, guiding her back into the apartment where it's safe.
"Yeah, well," she hums, scanning the furnished condo with a skeptical eye, "I'm not exactly a walking ray of sunshine."
"You're right," I say, chaperoning her every step as she familiarizes herself with her new home. "You're not sunshine, Miss Jones. You're rain." She pauses, her back facing me as I slowly approach her, as one would an unstable grenade. The scent of her sweet perfume overpowers my senses as I stop behind her, my body buzzing from the proximity, from the comforting closeness of her presence. I sweep her hair over her shoulder, leaning into her ear as I whisper, "Rain brings life to the lifeless, Miss Jones. Without rain, everything would burn."
She swallows, shivering as my breath tickles her skin. "Is that why I'm here?" she whispers, closing her eyes. "To make you feel alive again?" She subtly shakes her head, my stubble grazing her temples. "Death only brings death, Mr. Cavanaugh. I promise you, I am not an antidote for lifelessness."
"You're wrong, Miss Jones. You've already awoken a part of me I thought I'd never see again," I rasp, snaking my hand around her waist, my index finger dipping between the buttons on her blouse. Her diaphragm expands as I caress her soft skin, my mind melting into a puddle of sweet nostalgia. "You feel it too, Miss Jones. I know you do."
"Stop—" Emery gasps, abruptly jerking away from me. "I am so tired of people telling me how I feel!" Pain flashes across her face. "You don't get to decide how I feel. That is not your choice to make."
Frustration ripples through me. She's making this more difficult than it needs to be. If only she could let go. If only she could be honest with herself. She's stubborn. She refuses to let me win. To let herself lose. But there will not be any losers here. This isn't a game. We will both come out on top. Deep down, she knows that. Maybe that's the problem. She doesn't want to win. She doesn't want to feel joy. If she feels anything other than nothing, that means there's meaning to her life after all.
"Even if I do feel something," Emery stalks toward me, her shields once again risen, "what makes you think, after everything you've just pulled, I'd give you the last part of me that's still in my control?"
"You're mistaken, Miss Jones," I say. "I am not asking you to relinquish your control. Not yet. I am merely asking you to be open to the idea." I tilt my head, soaking in the angelic sight of her. "Submission will come when you're ready to trust me. Do you think you could trust me one day, Miss Jones?"
"It's not a matter of can I trust you, Mr. Cavanaugh, it's a matter of should I trust you," Emery says. "Other than an orgasm—" She waves her fingers at me. "Which I am more than capable of giving myself—" She shrugs. "I don't see what I'd get out of this arrangement."
"Oh, you sweet girl," I chuckle at her naivety. "I take it you've never been properly fucked in your whole life." She stiffens, offended by my observation. The last thing I want to do is push her further away. I change my tone. Shaming her won't help. "I can guarantee you, Miss Jones, this arrangement will be mutually beneficial. And to answer your question, what do you get out it? You get me. All of me. My attention, my time, and my devotion."
A flicker of intrigue dances in her eyes. "You sure put yourself on a pedestal, don't you?"
"I know my worth, Miss Jones," I say. "But I also know yours, so you'll have to forgive me for my actions. But when a man stumbles upon a priceless diamond, he doesn't just walk away."
She scoffs. "If you think you can win me over with flowery words, you're sorely mistaken."
I grin as she tries her hardest to stifle a growing smile. "Is that a little sunshine I see?"
Emery rolls her eyes. "You wish."
"I do," I say as my cell phone rings. Javier asks if we're ready for him. "Yes, come inside. Miss Jones is ready to sign."
"Sign what?" she asks as I hang up. A knock on the door draws our attention. Javier walks through with a folder in his hand. He gives Emery a stoic nod. "Hello..."
"Miss Jones." Javier holds out his hand. "It is a pleasure to meet you. I'm Javier Cortes, Chief of Staff at Cavanaugh Industries. We are very much looking forward to expertise and experience." He hands me the folder, whispering in Spanish, "This is your stripper? She looks like a librarian."
"He knows?!" Emery exclaims, blindsiding both me and Javier. She crosses her arms, glowering at us. "Who else knows?"
Javier clears his throat. "I apologize, I did not know you—"
"Who else knows?" Emery grunts.
"Only Javier," I say. "No one else, I promise."
She glares at me. "Your promise means very little to me right now."
Javier clears his throat. "It is the truth, Miss Jones. No one else is aware of your—" He blinks. "Extracurriculars."
"Mhmm," she hums, sucking on her teeth. "Sure."
"Why don't we sit down and review your contract?" I suggest, flashing Javier an unimpressed side-eye. He mouths sorry as we spill into the dining room. Emery marches to the table and aggressively pulls her chair out before sitting down, and I inwardly curse Javier for opening his big fucking mouth. Javier gingerly hands Emery the folder, and she snatches it out of his hand, grumbling to herself as she flips it open. "Initial thoughts?"
"It looks—" Her eyes widen. She must have gotten to the compensation. She shouldn't be so shocked, it's exactly what someone with her breadth of knowledge and education deserves. She releases a small cough, clearing her throat. "A pen?" Javier fumbles inside his jacket pocket. "Thank you." Emery tucks her hair behind her ear as she bends over, and carefully signs on each dotted line. She looks up, dropping the pen on the table. "Anything else?"
"Car keys." Javier sets a fob down in front of Emery. "Stall 44."
"Anything else?" Emery asks, picking up the Mercedes fob and twisting it in her hand.
"That's all for now. HR will onboard you Monday," Javier says, collecting her contract so that it can be processed immediately. "Welcome to Cavanaugh Industries, Miss Jones." Javier stands up. "A word, Damon?"
"Quickly," I say, stepping off to the side with Javier as Emery sulks in the dining room. "What is it?"
"Business and pleasure do not mix, Damon," Javier whispers. "Are you sure you know what you're doing?" He looks over my shoulder. "A whore has no place in a boardroom."
Javier chokes as I wrap my hand around the base of his throat. "Call her that again," I grunt, watching Javier's face turn a blotchy shade of red, "and I will fucking kill you." Javier gasps for air, holding his chest as I drop my vibrating hand. "You will treat her with the same respect you treat me. Is that understood?" Javier nods, unable to speak. "Good. Now go file that contract." Javier disappears through the front door.
"You shouldn't abuse the elderly." I turn around to find Emery leaning against the wall.
"You saw that?"
She pushes herself off the wall, strutting toward me. "Do you have difficulties controlling your impulses, Mr. Cavanaugh?"
"You tell me, Miss Jones," I say. "Did that look like impulsive to you?"
"If he calls me a whore again, will you actually kill him?" she asks, stopping in front of me. She places her hand on my chest, her fingers gliding up and down my black tie. "Will you take his life for the sake of my honor?" I clench my teeth. "Because I don't think you would, Mr. Cavanaugh." She licks her lips, tilting her head as she searches my eyes. "I think you'll all bark and very little bite."
I suck in a leveling breath, forcing myself to remain calm despite the thunderous urge to bend her over and show her just how strong my bite can be. "Do not tempt me, Miss Jones. You can only push a man so far before he cracks."
"I guess we'll see who cracks first then," she smirks, ducking around me to the front door. She twirls her new car key on her finger. "But remember what you said. I'm a diamond." She opens the door. "We don't crack easily."
"Where are you going?" I grunt.
"To pack," she says lightly. "I'll see you on Monday, Mr. Cavanaugh." She bites her lip. "Unless you plan to watch me dance tomorrow."
"Oh, I'll be there, Miss Jones."
The only one there.