Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Caleb
The door to the executive apartment swings open, and Ethan steps forward with a polite nod, gesturing for Emmersyn to come in. All the air leaves my lungs the moment I see her. Even though I knew I’d be seeing her, nothing could have prepared me for this. She’s . . . stunning. No, more than stunning—breathtaking. It’s like she’s stepped out of a dream, more beautiful than I ever remembered.
The last time I saw her, she was nineteen—young, uncertain, but with that same fire in her eyes. Now, as she steps into the room, it’s clear how much she’s changed, how much she’s grown into herself.
Emmersyn Mara Langley is nothing like the girl I agreed to marry so long ago. Now, she’s a striking woman in her early thirties, standing just seven inches shorter than Ethan’s six-foot-four frame. Her dark auburn hair, now styled in polished waves that graze her shoulders, is worlds away from the simpler styles she used to wear. And those eyes—sharp, green, and always assessing—seem even more piercing than I remember.
It’s hard not to notice how time has only made her more captivating. The years have refined her, adding a confident edge to her natural beauty. She’s still the same Em, but with a presence that’s impossible to ignore. It’s disarming, really, how she can walk into a room and command it without saying a word.
And damn if that doesn’t stir something in me, something I’d rather not admit is still there. I don’t want to name it—in fact, I’d prefer to shove it down deep, bury it where it can’t reach me. But there’s something about Emmersyn that’s different now, something provocative that goes beyond her physical beauty. It’s in the way she carries herself, the confidence in her stride, the way her presence fills the room. It’s unsettling, how just being near her brings back feelings I thought I’d buried a long time ago.
She’s not the girl I knew back then—she’s a woman who’s seen the world, who’s carved out a place for herself in it. And that stirs something deeper, something that’s been lying dormant, waiting for this very moment to resurface.
Ethan clears his throat, snapping me out of my thoughts. “So . . . your wife is here,” he says, his tone laced with curiosity and a dozen unspoken questions. “What happened to ‘that shit is done and over’?”
“Leave,” I say, trying to keep it polite, even though what I really want to say is, ‘fuck off—I can only handle one crazy, demanding person at a time.’
He scoffs but nods at Emmersyn with a grin. “Nice meeting you,” he says.
“Thank you for bringing me here,” Emmersyn replies, her voice smooth and composed as she steps farther into the apartment, her heels clicking softly against the floor. The confidence in her voice only amplifies the difference between the girl I married and the woman standing before me.
I try to mask the mix of emotions swirling inside me. “Emmersyn,” I greet her, my voice coming out gruffer than I intended.
“Caleb,” she responds, her lips curving into a slight, almost challenging smile. The years might have changed us both, but the chemistry—that electric pull between us—is still very much alive.
When I agreed to marry her, I didn’t think about anything beyond what she was offering. If I’d taken a minute to really consider what I was getting myself into . . . well, things might have turned out differently. We didn’t marry for love. There wasn’t even any physical attraction—at least, that’s what I told myself. It was just convenient at the time. But convenience screwed me over in more ways than I care to count. That’s not going to happen again. Not this time.
Why did it screw me over? Because as soon as we were married, I realized the chemistry between us was explosive. We were like two volatile elements, and when combined, we didn’t just ignite—we detonated. Sometimes, the explosion was vibrant and thrilling, like when we kissed. Those kisses . . . they weren’t just sparks. They were all-consuming, the kind that left me breathless and wanting more, even when I knew better. Other times, the explosion was more like a nuclear meltdown, especially when we couldn’t see eye to eye. Our fights? They were legendary, the kind that left destruction in their wake.
Ethan, sensing the charged atmosphere, gives me a nod. “I’ll leave you two to it,” he says, but not before adding with a smirk, “The box of condoms is in the bathroom.”
I flip him the finger, and the asshole leaves with that smug grin on his face. The moment the door clicks shut, it’s just the two of us. Emmersyn holds my gaze, and for a split second, it feels like time rewinds, and I’m standing in front of that nineteen-year-old girl again. But then reality snaps back, and I’m acutely aware of the woman she’s become—the one who’s now challenging me with every breath.
“You haven’t changed,” I say, unable to keep the edge out of my voice. It’s part frustration, part something else I don’t want to name.
She studies me, then glances down at herself. After a quick assessment, she shakes her head as if disagreeing with me and looks up with those beautiful green eyes that used to hypnotize me—but not this time. “I’d like to think I’m a different person.” She pauses, looking at her hands and smiling softly before turning her attention back to me. “You, on the other hand, haven’t changed at all. Still brooding. Still impossible.”
“Still infuriating,” I counter, but there’s something else in my tone—a spark, maybe even a dare.
She steps closer, the scent of her perfume—something crisp yet undeniably feminine—teasing my senses. It’s a scent that reminds me of those nights when I’d hold her while she slept, feeling like the luckiest man alive. But now, I can’t help but wonder if someone else has taken my place in those moments, someone else who gets to breathe in that scent and feel her warmth.
“So, are you going to make me stand here all day, or can I take a seat?” she asks, arching an eyebrow as she glances around the room, her gaze finally settling back on me. She shifts her weight slightly, the movement subtle.
I let out a loud breath, motioning for her to sit. “We’ll talk,” I say, feeling the tension between us twist into something almost tangible. “But don’t expect me to make this easy.”
Her smile widens, just a fraction, but enough to make my heart skip. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Why the divorce papers?” I ask, cutting straight to the point.
“What happened to listening to me first?” she counters, one eyebrow arching in challenge.
“Nah, I want answers and if I let you talk, you’ll just avoid responding to them,” I reply, leaning back slightly, trying to mask the curiosity bubbling beneath my stern exterior. “Why did you send them over only to backtrack now? ”
“Gertrude died, and I thought it’d be safe,” she says, her voice softening.
That old hag might be dead, but nothing is ever safe when it comes to her. Nothing. I wonder what she did this time. I’m not surprised one bit that she’s somehow involved in whatever new scheme Emmersyn is running. Though I could stop her right now and shove her out the door, I want to at least understand why I have to be involved in the latest plot.
“But it’s not?” I press, catching the subtle unease in her tone.
She shakes her head, pressing her lips together. I can practically see the gears turning in her mind, working overtime. I’m impressed she’s not talking faster or trying to throw me off by speaking in circles without making any sense.
Is there another clause or condition that ties her to another gullible fool? She could always find someone new. Was there someone new, and now . . . “Explain.”
Emmersyn reaches into her purse, pulling out a manila envelope and a sleek, elegant one adorned with delicate embossing. The contrast between the two is striking—one official and cold, the other almost tauntingly refined.
I take both envelopes. I start with the more official one. It’s the will of Gertrude Langley, who apparently still owned the media empire—the one Emmersyn has cared for more than anything else in the world. Em would do anything for it—including sacrificing her life and surrendering anything. This woman hasn’t changed one bit.
When I finish reading it, I open the letter. Gertrude is playing with her granddaughter again, convincing her that what she’s asking is for her own good. And, of course, she’s dragging me into this fucking charade. Gertrude Langley thinks everyone around her is a puppet she can play with until she gets bored and destroys them.
She obviously believes she’ll have the last laugh, but this time, I’m not going to be part of her game. Never again. As I finish reading her letter, a laugh escapes me. “She’s still fucking with you, huh?” I shake my head in disbelief.
“As usual,” Emmersyn confirms, giving me a sad smile.
“Sorry for your loss,” I say honestly, because even when they drove each other crazy, I know how much she loved her, and Trudy Langley was the only family she had left.
My heart breaks a little, knowing that Em has no one left. That was one of her greatest fears—that one day, the only person who loved her would be gone, and no one would care what happened to her. And if I could, I’d help her, but I have to remember that Emmersyn Langley is poison, pure destruction, and chaos wrapped in a beautiful package.
I need to escape her grasp before she traps me and tears me apart like she did last time. Never again. I have to get away from the swirling tornado that is the Langley women.
“Listen, my lawyer is looking into the documents you sent—” I tap my chest a couple of times, trying to find the strength to reject her. “I think it’s best if we part ways. You can figure this out on your own. You’re no longer an impressionable eighteen-year-old.”
“I already tried,” she says, her voice tinged with desperation, a sadness that tugs at something in me I’d rather ignore.
“You’re not going to manipulate me into this,” I reply, my voice firm as I glance pointedly at the door. “Leave.”
She stares at me as if she can’t believe I’m really going to shut her out. Those eyes plead with me to listen, to not turn her away. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s how to survive and escape the most dangerous situations. And Emmersyn Langley is the most dangerous thing in my world. She could destroy me with her words, with her mouth, with a single look . . . and I’m not going to let her.