Chapter 7 - Stay
Six months later, Emma woke at 3:14 a.m.
She knew the exact time because Victor’s clock glowed beside the bed.
She looked at the empty space beside her.
“Victor?”
No answer.
Emma pulled on a robe.
She found him downstairs.
In the study.
Of course.
The fire was burning.
Victor sat on the leather sofa reading financial reports.
Emma leaned against the doorway.
“You know normal people sleep.”
Victor looked up.
“You're awake.”
“Because normal people notice when someone leaves the bed.”
He placed the papers aside.
Emma crossed the room.
A lot had changed in six months.
Liam had kept his job.
He attended gambling recovery meetings twice a week.
He had repaid every legitimate dollar he owed through his wages.
More importantly, Emma no longer worked for Victor.
She had enrolled in a hospitality management program and was helping Mrs. Whitaker modernize the estate operations as an independent employee.
Victor had insisted on that distinction.
Emma suspected he enjoyed telling people his girlfriend couldn't technically be ordered around.
Not that it would have helped him.
She sat beside him.
“Nightmare?”
Victor didn't answer immediately.
That was answer enough.
Emma looked toward the rug.
“The first night?”
“Yes.”
She touched his hand.
Victor stared at their joined fingers.
“I still remember waking up.”
Emma smiled.
“With a gun in your hand?”
Victor frowned.
“You weren't supposed to know that.”
“Paul told me.”
“Paul talks too much.”
“He said you looked terrified.”
Victor looked offended.
“I was not terrified.”
“You woke up with a maid sleeping on your chest.”
“You were drooling.”
Emma gasped.
“I absolutely was not.”
“You were.”
“Liar.”
Victor pulled her closer.
She rested against him exactly as she had that first night.
Except this time there was no debt.
No bloodstained suit.
No fear.
Victor wrapped an arm around her.
Emma listened to his heartbeat.
“You know what's strange?”
“What?”
“That night I thought you were the most frightening man I'd ever met.”
“And now?”
She considered it.
“You're still pretty frightening.”
“Good.”
“But not to me.”
Victor became quiet.
Emma lifted her head.
“What?”
“There was something I never told you.”
“What?”
“That first morning, when I realized it was you…”
He paused.
“I hadn't slept that peacefully in almost ten years.”
Emma's expression softened.
“So that's why you kept telling me to stay.”
“At first.”
“And later?”
Victor looked directly into her eyes.
“Later I wanted you to choose it.”
Emma smiled.
“I did.”
He reached into his pocket.
Emma immediately narrowed her eyes.
“Victor Hayes.”
He froze.
“What?”
“If that's what I think it is, you are absolutely not proposing at three-fourteen in the morning while wearing sweatpants.”
Victor stared at her.
Slowly, he removed his hand from his pocket.
“It's nothing.”
“Victor.”
“Completely unrelated object.”
She reached toward him.
He caught her wrist.
Emma laughed.
“Give it to me.”
“No.”
“You were going to propose!”
“I've reconsidered.”
“You're impossible.”
“You criticized the timing.”
“Because I want you wearing pants.”
“I am wearing pants.”
“Real pants.”
Victor laughed.
Emma climbed halfway across him, trying to reach his pocket.
He caught her around the waist.
For one second, they both stopped.
The position was almost identical to that first night.
Emma looked down at him.
Victor looked up at her.
Then he smiled.
“Familiar?”
“Very.”
His expression became serious.
“Emma.”
She stopped laughing.
Victor removed the small velvet box.
This time she didn't interrupt him.
“I spent most of my life believing loyalty could be bought and fear could keep people close.”
He opened the box.
“You proved both ideas wrong.”
Emma's eyes filled, but she smiled.
Victor continued.
“You stayed when you had every reason to run. Then when you finally had every reason to leave…”
His thumb brushed her hand.
“…you stayed because you wanted to.”
Emma whispered, “Ask me.”
Victor looked into her eyes.
“Marry me.”
She smiled.
“Yes.”
Victor blinked.
“That quickly?”
“Don't ruin it.”
He laughed.
“Yes, ma'am.”
He slipped the ring onto her finger.
Emma settled against his chest again.
Victor wrapped both arms around her.
Outside the locked mahogany door, Paul approached with a folder.
He heard Emma laughing.
Then Victor.
Paul stopped.
He looked at the folder.
Then at the door.
And quietly turned around.
Some things could wait until morning.
Inside, Emma closed her eyes.
Victor kissed her hair.
“Comfortable?”
“Very.”
“You're using me as a pillow again.”
“Get used to it.”
Victor smiled.
Then Emma heard the same word he had whispered the first night they met.
Only now he was completely awake.
“Stay.”
Emma looked at the ring on her hand.
Then she rested her cheek over his heart.
May you like
“I already did.”
THE END
