Chapter 86

Emily’s skin still tingled from Alex’s touch. Even as she wrapped her arms around herself and curled up on the bed, the echoes of their recent intimacy haunted her like a feverish dream. The room smelled of his cologne and her perfume a cocktail of lust, secrecy, and confusion.

He had left the room without a word.

No promises.

No explanations.

Just silence.

She pressed a trembling hand to her chest, trying to still her racing heart. Why did it always feel like he was pulling away right after pulling her in so deep?

Outside, the sky had darkened to a deep gray. A storm was coming. Literally, and maybe metaphorically too.

The door creaked slightly, and Emily turned her head, hopeful. But it wasn’t Alex.

It was her mother.

“El... Emily,” her mother stammered, clearly not expecting to see her lying on the massive bed, hair messy, skin flushed. “You’re still here?”

Emily sat up abruptly, panic racing through her. “I... I was just... resting.”

Her mother looked around the room, her eyes narrowing at the rumpled sheets and the faint red marks around Emily’s collarbone. Her expression twisted.

“You’ve been crying,” her mother said sharply, stepping closer. “What happened? Where’s Alex?”

Emily wiped her eyes quickly. “He left... for a meeting, I think.”

Her mother tilted her head, her gaze suspicious. “Emily, you know this... situation with Alex isn’t normal. You staying here, the way you speak about him. Is there something going on between the two of you?”

The question hung in the air like smoke.

Emily swallowed hard, resisting the urge to scream. Yes, Mom. I’m sleeping with your husband’s best friend. I’ve been letting him ruin me in every room of this mansion. And worse, I want him. I crave him. I hate myself for it but I can’t stop.

But all she said was, “No. He just makes me feel safe. That’s all.”

Her mother didn’t seem convinced, but she sighed and dropped it. “Well, your father’s coming back next week. I don’t want any drama, Emily. Please.”

Emily nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. “I understand.”

Downstairs, Alex stood in the garage, jaw clenched, hands gripping the steering wheel of his car.

He was losing control.

What the hell was he doing with Emily? She was too young. Too soft. Too... forbidden.

And yet, every time he told himself to walk away, he’d find her standing there, looking at him with those wide, curious eyes, wearing innocence like a fragile armor he couldn’t help but want to destroy.

He leaned his head back against the headrest, closing his eyes. His phone buzzed. A message from Liam.

Liam: “Heard you’ve been spending a lot of time with Emily lately. Watch yourself, bro.”

Alex stared at the message, his blood running cold. Liam had always been too observant. Too close. The idea of anyone else knowing, suspecting, or worse telling her father made Alex’s stomach churn.

He deleted the message.

He couldn’t stop now. But he had to be smarter.

Later that night, Emily couldn’t sleep. The mansion felt too quiet, too heavy with secrets. She slipped out of bed and padded barefoot down the hallway, stopping in front of Alex’s door.

It was slightly ajar.

She pushed it open and peeked inside.

He was there. Sitting in the dark. A glass of whiskey in one hand, shirt unbuttoned, hair messy.

He looked up slowly. “Can’t sleep?”

She stepped inside, shutting the door behind her. “Neither can you.”

He didn’t respond, just stared at her with something unreadable in his eyes. She took a few steps closer, then hesitated.

“I can go if you want,” she whispered.

“Come here,” he said roughly.

She obeyed, walking into his open arms like a moth to flame. His hands were warm, steady on her waist. She slid onto his lap, her legs straddling him, their foreheads pressed together.

“Emily,” he murmured against her lips. “What are we doing?”

“I don’t know,” she whispered, “but I don’t want it to stop.”

He kissed her slow, deep, aching and she melted against him. It wasn’t rushed this time. It wasn’t about punishment or dominance. It was quiet, aching hunger. The kind that made you feel like you were dying a little just to taste it.

“I think about you too much,” he admitted, his lips brushing her jaw. “You’re in my head when you shouldn’t be.”

Emily clung to his shirt, her voice trembling. “Then let me stay there. I’m already ruined anyway.”

He paused, pulling back slightly to look at her.

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s true,” she said. “I can’t be normal after this. I don’t want anyone else. Just you.”

Alex exhaled harshly, dragging his fingers through her hair. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“But I do.”

They didn’t make love that night. They just held each other. Skin to skin, heartbeats syncing, breaths mingling in the dark. It was scarier than sex, it was intimacy. Real, raw, terrifying intimacy.

The next morning, Emily woke up to an empty bed. Alex was gone. Again.

But this time, there was a note.

"Stay in today. I’ll be back before lunch. Wear something red for me. A."

She smiled softly, folding the note and tucking it into her diary.

He was still here.

For now.

But deep down, Emily knew the storm hadn’t passed it had only just begun.