Chapter 11: Space (Emma's POV)

"Baby—" 

I huffed, tired of arguing with him now. "Look, I've got a lot of work to do, so let's talk about this later, Stefan please." 

"Okay," he sighed in defeat. "Can I pick you up later?" 

"No, I'm driving myself home." 

"Okay," he said slowly. "Can I stop by later?" 

"I think we should take some space." 

He tilted his head to the side. "Come on, I'm sorry, baby. I really am. I shouldn't have just shown up and done that but I realized where I remembered him from and it just pissed me off, so I—" 

"So you showed up, fought with my boss—" 

"He's your ex-boyfriend before he's your boss, Emma. You know that too." 

"Yeah, my ex! Look, I have to go. Let's talk tomorrow or something. Because we really need some space, clearly. Please?" 

He nodded, dropping my hands. "Okay." 

"Bye," I mumbled, turning around and walking back inside. When I reached the elevators and pressed the button, I put my hands over my face. "Why does he have to—" I gasped when I pulled my hands down and saw Tristan just standing there in the elevator. 

He was standing against the wall and he was staring right at me like he had been waiting for the doors to open and for me to step in. "I figured I'd just wait for you," he mumbled, shrugging a shoulder. 

I stepped inside, pressing the button to the top floor and leaning on the wall, right beside him. 

"See what your boy-toy did," he snickered. 

"Mr. Reed," I said through gritted teeth, not looking at him. "Don't rub salt in the wound." 

He chuckled softly beside me and I turned to look at him. He turned to look at me too. "What?" 

"I'm sorry for what he did. I had no idea." 

"You couldn't have known, it's not your fault, Ms. Bailey," he said, emphasizing my name. 

I tutted, making a soft 'tsk' with my tongue while shaking my head. "I don't know why he did that." 

"Isn't it obvious? He's insecure, he thinks something will happen between you and me." 

"At least you made it clear how wrong he was," I blurted out. I hope he doesn't realize how bitter I felt while saying that. What he said hurt me. 

She doesn't mean anything to me anymore. What a dick, honestly. 

"Still," he said casually. "I think you liked it." 

"What?" I frowned in confusion.

"What he did was extremely possessive. Don't you like that?" 

"No, why would I like that?" 

"You used to like it when I did it. You loved it, actually," he remarked. Well, yeah. I kind of loved everything he did, so... 

"That's different. You were my boyfriend." 

"Isn't he yours?" 

"He wasn't until last night," I said, looking at his eyes. 

They look like swirls of caramel right now. They're pretty. "So, I was right. He only did it to prove a point." 

"No," I scoffed. "He didn't realize you were my ex-boyfriend until today. He just did that to do it, okay?" 

"Whatever you say, Ms. Bailey." 

I chuckled softly, staring at the doors, waiting for them to open. 

"You like it when I call you that, don't you?" 

I turned to him. "I like when you call me Ms. Bailey? Yeah, right," I scoffed. "It makes me feel older than I am." 

"No, you like it," he said slowly. "You love it." 

"You need to stop." I pushed myself off the wall as the elevator dinged and then opened. "Get ahold of yourself, Mr. Reed," I said mockingly before walking out of the elevator and to my room. I settled into the chair, shrugged my blazer off, now in my brown tank, and resumed working on the contract. I heard his door opening and as it closed, he appeared in the door frame of the connecting door. 

"How much work have you got to do?" he asked. 

"This contract is the last thing for me today. Why? You need me to do something else?" When he didn't say anything, I looked up at him. "What?" 

"Are you good at poker?" 

What the hell? "I like to think so... why?" 

"Nothing. I was just curious. Actually... let me check something and I'll get back to you on that later." 

"Okay?" I said slowly. I'm so confused. What has poker got to do with anything? 

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

I stared at him in utter confusion. "You..." I started but stopped immediately. "You want me to come with you? To poker night with your friends?" 

"You won't be the only girl there, they're bringing girlfriends." 

"I'm not your girlfriend," I scoffed. 

"I know, but you're good at poker. I'm good at poker too. We'll split the money," he offered. 

"You own a multi-million publishing firm, you're a millionaire—" 

"Billionaire," he corrected. 

I rolled my eyes. "How much more money do you need?" 

"I don't need it, I want it. There's a huge difference." 

"Why do you focus so much on money?" I asked, narrowing my eyes on him. "You were never like that." 

"Well, I need something to focus on. What else should it be? My dysfunctional family, my girlfriend who left me, so ex-girlfriend, or...? Any other bright ideas?" he huffed. It makes sense now. How he got into starting his own publishing firm. He needed something to do, anything to distract him so he chose something that would drown him in work, and as a reward, he got money. Money gets you pretty much everything other than happiness and love. 

Unless materialistic things give you happiness. 

It's how he coped, I guess. The same way I coped by drowning myself in a new college, new people, new friends. He drowned himself in work and money after college. I drowned myself in work too. 

"How late will this go?" I inquired. 

"I'm not sure. But I will personally follow you to make sure you get home safe if that's what you're worried about. And you can even take tomorrow off." 

"No, I should probably—" 

"You will take tomorrow off because I am too. I promised to meet Ashley and help her with the wedding arrangements. If you want, you can work from home," he offered. "Set up those interviews with the authors. And get an update on Samantha Corrin." 

"Fine, fair enough. Okay," I agreed. 

"Okay, we leave in fifteen minutes." 

I glanced at the clock, it read 5:45. I packed everything up, left the new contract on my desk so I could give it to him first thing on the day after, and then I grabbed my stuff, shut everything off and we left. The rest of the employees were packing up and leaving too. 

We got downstairs, he got in his car, I got in mine, and I started tailing him, following him all the way to the apartment complex, where I assume his friend, the host for tonight, was staying. We parked, and then we were let in and we filed into the elevator with a few other tenants. 

The elevator was closing when it opened back up and a group of college boys filed in. They were all athletes and jocks and there were a lot of them. Every time I thought that was it, more would show up. And they all seemed a little drunk. Everybody had to scoot back and make room for them. 

I was standing in front of and a little to the left of Tristan with a guy right in front of me who appeared to be absolutely wasted. He was swaying around too. The elevator miraculously wasn't overweight and the doors closed. The middle-aged couple in the elevator seemed annoyed by the frat boys too. 

"Who's got the keys?" One of the guys asked. They all started checking their pockets and I nearly got elbowed by one of them but I moved back just in time. "Got them!" 

I huffed, waiting for them to file out. But they didn't, the couple moved out first yet it didn't help the packed elevator at all. The guy in front of me started swaying more and his friends had to balance him. 

I moved even further back. I'm sandwiched between Tristan and a frat boy. God help me. I felt two hands grab my hips and pull me back. I bit my bottom lip and didn't utter a word as Tristan's chest pressed into my back. We're in the very corner and I'm completely pressed up against him. My back, hips, ass, everything is right against his chest, abdomen... and everything. 

The elevator dinged open and the boys finally stepped out. 

I spun around to look at him, ready to ask what the hell he thought he was doing when the doors opened. 

"Wrong floor, guys!" 

I was pushed forward when the boys flooded back in. I let out a huff, grabbing onto Tristan's shoulders while one of the guys pushed me further back. I looked at the ceiling, waiting for the boys to file out again. I made the mistake of looking down at his eyes. 

He was staring right at me. 

"What?" I whispered. 

He softly shook his head, his hands still stuck to my hips. 

"What?" I asked again. 

"Nothing, you look pretty," he mumbled. He pulled me impossibly closer and I felt my breath hitch in my throat. 

My eyes stayed locked with his as the elevator dinged again and the guys finally stepped out. I pulled away from him quickly, standing beside him rather than in front of him and we both stayed quiet as the doors closed and we went another floor up. I closed my eyes, cursing in my head. 

I never should have been that close to him physically, I never should have been in a situation where that happened. I was trying to avoid it, actually, because I was terrified of feeling a certain type of way. The butterflies, the heart-pounding nerves, the lack of air, the heat prickling at my skin. The overwhelming desire to kiss him. It's all running through me right fucking now. All thanks to those frat boys. 

The elevator opened and we stepped out. I followed him to the apartment and he rang the bell. 

The door opened and revealed a guy, who I'm guessing is Jasper. "Welcome to poker night, my friend. At least you had time to come tonight, this is the third time I've invited you this month." He turned to me, smiling. "Jasper." He stuck his hand out. 

"Emma." 

He looked at Tristan. "And Emma is...?" he trailed off suggestively. 

"A friend," Tristan said, glancing at me. "Just a friend."

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Chapter 11

If those frat boys weren't there, that would have been such a perfect moment lmao

I still think it was tho... if you just ignore the frat boys, yk

next chapter: tipsy