Emily went quiet, and the whole lounge felt like a ghost town. She knew trying to change Patrick's mind was a lost cause, and sticking around would just be embarrassing.
She was ready to bolt, but Patrick grabbed her arm. She felt trapped, a mix of disappointment and frustration swirling inside her. She didn't want to be there a second longer.
"Mr. Rivera, let go of me," Emily said, trying to keep her cool.
She stared at him, trying to stay calm. Patrick hesitated, then finally let her go.
Emily rushed back to her office and slammed the door. Her head was spinning with all sorts of emotions. Her phone buzzed with a text from Betty.
Betty: [Emily, don't worry about me. My mom called a few days ago, asking me to come back home. I've caused you enough trouble. Thanks for everything.]
Betty didn't deserve any of this, but the Rivera Group didn't care. Emily rubbed her temples, feeling a headache coming on. After thinking for a bit, she grabbed her phone and called a business partner she trusted. "Hey, Mr. Brooks, is your company still hiring?"
"Ms. Thompson, it's rare to hear from you. My company is small, and we're actually thinking about layoffs."
"Got it, thanks anyway."
After hanging up, Roy Brooks immediately called Marlon Hughes from the Hughes Group, trying to sound helpful.
"Mr. Hughes, there's some trouble with Ms. Thompson from The Rivera Group, the one you asked me to look out for."
Meanwhile, Emily was nervously scrolling through her phone.
"What are you doing?" A cold, deep voice startled her. It was Patrick.
Emily almost dropped her phone. "It's work hours. Why are you in here with the door closed?" Patrick asked, his tone icy.
Emily felt a pang of guilt. Ignoring the panic in her eyes, Patrick's gaze lingered on the delicate necklace around her neck, highlighting her slender, fair neck and the hint of her collarbone.
When Emily didn't answer, Patrick stepped closer. "Why aren't you answering my question?"
Snapping back to reality, Emily didn't want to keep talking to him. "Because it's cold in here," she said, brushing him off.
Her answer made Patrick stop. He closed the door behind him.
Outside, her colleagues were whispering.
"Emily's probably in trouble because of what happened this morning. Who is this Shirley to Mr. Rivera, anyway?"
"Keep it down. Mr. Rivera's still mad. Let's get out of here before we get in trouble."
In no time, the office was empty.
Patrick frowned, noticing Emily's coat on her chair. Why would she take it off if she was cold?
"Are you messing with me?" Patrick asked, his presence overwhelming.
"I wouldn't dare."
Patrick grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him. "What wouldn't you dare?"
He backed her into a corner, pulling her close. Emily's heart raced, feeling the intensity of his presence. She tried to pull away, but his grip was like iron, holding her in place.
"Still cold now?" Patrick asked, dripping with sarcasm.
"No..." Emily started, but before she could finish, Patrick's lips were on hers, forceful yet warm. Her attempts to push him away were futile, his dominance overwhelming her.
The kiss was sudden and intense, leaving Emily breathless. It felt both familiar and electrifying. Her lips parted, and soon their tongues were entwined. She could feel the heat and strength of his body, and without thinking, she clung to his neck, wanting to respond.
Patrick always had this way of controlling everything about her, body and soul. Emily hated herself for not standing her ground. Every time she tried to set boundaries, she folded the moment Patrick appeared, like a pet eager for its owner's attention.
Seeing her dazed and entranced, Patrick smirked. Then, without a word, he pulled away.
"I have a dinner with a client tonight. I'll have someone bring you some clothes later," he said, his tone flat.
Emily gritted her teeth, thinking, 'What a self-righteous jerk!'
Patrick was always so overbearing.
After he left, Emily slumped into her chair.
Not long after, Patrick's driver delivered a fancy gift box with a wine-red slip dress inside.
Emily was surprised. Usually, when dining with clients, Patrick insisted she wear a suit, saying, "We need to look professional."
She shook her head. Since he sent it, she had no choice but to wear it.
Emily put the dress back in the box and tossed it into her desk drawer. Before she could close it, Shirley walked in.
"Emily, what are you doing?" Shirley asked.
Startled, Emily suppressed her disgust for Shirley's fake smile. "Nothing."
"Emily, I thought about it. You probably find macarons too sweet, so I brought you a mango cake, made with pure animal cream. I made it myself, try it."
Emily, who had been allergic to mangoes since she was a kid, immediately refused. "No, thanks."
Before she could finish, she saw Patrick walking in behind Shirley.
"Shirley made it just for you," Patrick said, his face cold and unreadable.
Emily hoped he remembered her mango allergy. But his words felt like a command: "Take it or leave it."
"Thank you," Emily said reluctantly, taking the cake.
"Patrick, look, Emily still won't forgive me. She probably thinks I forced Betty out. She'll probably throw the cake away as soon as we leave," Shirley said, looking pitiful.
Emily thought, 'Is Shirley delusional?'
Seeing Emily's lack of response, Shirley opened the cake's packaging and handed it to her, looking all innocent.
Emily was stunned. With that look, Shirley could easily manipulate Patrick. What man could resist?
Patrick stared at her, as if daring her to defy him. If she didn't eat it, she'd be the bad guy.
"Fine," Emily thought. Allergic reaction or not, it was fate's choice.
She took the cake, scooped up a bite with a small spoon, and ate it.
Soon, she felt a tingling sensation spreading through her body.