49. A Tug of War

49. A Tug of War
DAY THREE

“You already sound married to me.” Charlie says with a hint of smirk in his voice.

His words hit on the wrong side of my head, and I feel a glitch in my system, causing my heart to malfunction and skip a beat.

“Just drive.” I murmur, looking out of the window, and sinking into the thought.

Marriage with her? I would rather drink bleach.

I catch my reflection in the glass, and adjust my tie. Perfect. Always perfect!

It’s not arrogance, it’s just fact. I am the total package, the kind of guy who checks every box on every woman’s list.

Resources? Check. High Status? Double check. Money that would even make the devil envy? Hell yeah!

I am an Alpha male, whereas Emara is just bare minimum in human form. 

She is completely useless. 

Hell, she doesn’t even have survival instincts. How did she blindly get into a stranger’s house and here living with me?

She is a complete gone case.

I could have done way worse to her. Like, selling her organs or getting her trafficked to some red-light district.

God! She is fucking dumb.

I would never think of marrying a girl with zero skills, and definitely not someone who already fucked me over to save her pathetic excuse of a lover.

I despise her.

But then, I remember last night, how the words I love you just slipped out of my mouth, and it felt like they were not a lie.

Fuck.

I close my eyes, feeling a tug of war going inside me. 

My heart throws open its doors, showing someone already lives in there, and then there is my dominant brain, which denies every proof that I don’t even have a heart, just a vascular pumping organ.

FUCK!

I whip out my iPad, open the notepad, and start typing in a desperate attempt to organize my thoughts.

Maybe if I break this down logically, I can see it for what I really like in her that got me so whipped. I can’t even think straight!

I create two columns, one for the Pro and another for the Con with the title- Emara, the Chaos.

In the Pros section, I write:

\-> She’s hot
\-> No idea why I am weirdly into her

I pause, staring at the list. That’s it. That’s all I have got to justify why I am drawn to her and tolerate her shenanigans.

That’s all she got!

Moving forward, in the Cons column, I write:

\-> Highly immature
\-> CRAZY 
\-> Zero benefit
\-> Terrible cook
\-> No real skills
\-> Extremely silly
\-> Short height
\-> Cannot be trusted

I look at the list. It is telling me everything I need to know. 

Emara is nothing but a distraction. An emotional pothole I fell into for reasons even I don’t get. 

Maybe I don’t really love her.

Maybe I just love the challenge of controlling her. 

Or maybe, it’s just the fact that she is the one thing I can’t control, and that fascinates me.

I close the notepad, lean back in my seat and watch as the city passes by like my life speeding forward.

Sure, I do want to settle down, but marrying someone like her, who is a liability will only slow me down in life. 

I would rather choose someone who brings status, and wealth to the table. After all, marriage is a business deal, with sex. 

And Emara seems like a total loss in the deal. 

Gathering my stuff, I stroll into the office. All eyes lock on me as I walk in fifteen minutes late. That’s strike two in three days, all because of her!

I didn’t think arguing with her would tank my entire schedule.

Tossing my suit jacket onto the back of my chair, I pop a Xanax and chug deep gulps of cool water.

The pressure is getting to me, but I can’t let anyone see me crack.

I press the intercom and my secretary rushes in. “Schedule?” I quip, taking deep breaths and waiting for the pill to kick in.

“Sir, the D2R meeting started 7 minutes ago..” She doesn’t hesitate telling me I am late, because I was supposed to be in that meeting.

Fantastic!

Never in my life have I been off-schedule, and now here I am, running on my toes, being a bad example for my employees. 

Emara!

I remind myself to add another point in the notepad to the Con’s section: Causes excessive stress.

As soon as I enter, the entire room goes huss and I can feel their eyes drilling into me with silent judgement.

“Sorry, I am late. Something urgent came up.” I give them my best excuse and dive right into the discussion. “Sam, can you fill in?” 

The lead developer clears his throat, continuing the presentation on the screen. “The Beta testing for D2R has shown several significant issues like lagging on certain devices, a few security malfunctions, and UI isn’t fully optimized yet.”

He then glances at me, visibly tense. “We are realistically looking at another two or three weeks before the Beta version is polished enough for a solid release.”

Hell! Tomorrow is the release date.

I purse my lips into a hard line. “That ain’t happening. The release is scheduled for tomorrow. The marketing team is already on it to publicize it as a groundbreaking launch.”

I take a deep breath, feeling the weight of stress on me. Three weeks delay or should I release the Beta as planned and risk a disaster?

My fingers tap on the table, while I run my horses. “What’s the status of the prototype?”

“It is more stable than the Beta model, though it lacks some of the advanced features.” One of the project managers inform me. “There are still a few things that need attention. It is not perfect, but functional.”

Silence fills the room along with tension, as everyone stares at me, waiting for a decision. 

Just then, my phone buzzes on the table, and I glance at the screen which shows a notification from my home security system. 

Access denied: Attempt to open the bedroom door. 

Huh? I tap the camera feed, and there she is.. Emara. Of course!

She is standing by my door, looking right up into the camera, and giving me the middle finger with that damn smirk on her face.

God! This girl. 

Why does she always have to play with my balls?

I groan audibly, catching the attention in the room. I realize they are still staring at me, and I try to push it all down, getting back to the discussion, like nothing happened.

“Let’s move forward with the prototype release, since the Beta is still glitching.” I state, attempting to steer the focus back to work. 

But mentally, I am already under her clutch. 

Fuck! This girl is a certified sociopath.