Chapter 24
Adrian spent the entire day distracted.
He tried working.
Failed.
Tried playing a game.
Lost three matches in a row.
Tried staring out the window dramatically.
That accomplished nothing either.
Finally, he couldn't take it anymore.
He grabbed his car keys and left.
The engine of his red sports car roared to life.
Adrian drove through the city with one hand on the wheel, his expression dark and restless.
At a red light, he happened to glance toward the sidewalk.
A young couple was waiting at the intersection on a scooter.
The guy was driving.
His girlfriend sat behind him with both arms wrapped tightly around his waist, laughing at something he'd said.
Adrian stared.
Normally, he wouldn't have noticed them at all.
Today—
he was jealous.
Seriously jealous.
His fingers tightened around the steering wheel.
Maybe he should get a scooter.
Then he could take Emma places.
Actually...
A motorcycle might be better.
Emma took corners like she had a personal grudge against traffic laws. She'd probably love something faster.
A lot of Adrian's friends rode motorcycles.
He could learn.
The light turned green.
Adrian stepped on the gas.
After an entire day of thinking, he had finally figured out what was happening.
Emma was angry.
Obviously.
She had submitted her resignation, and he hadn't properly tried to stop her.
That had to be it.
She'd liked him for more than a year.
There was no way someone could just switch off feelings like that overnight.
So he would go to her apartment.
He'd talk to her in person.
He'd ask her to come back.
Then she'd come back.
Simple.
Adrian frowned.
Those stupid succulents had been wrong every single time.
He'd sacrificed several of them, and somehow every round had ended with:
Bullshit.
Plants didn't know anything about relationships.
Emma would come back.
She had liked him for over a year.
People didn't just stop loving someone overnight.
At least—
that was what Adrian told himself.
His red sports car pulled up outside Emma's apartment building.
Adrian was so focused on getting inside that he didn't notice the black Maybach parked nearby.
And he definitely didn't notice the woman in a white dress sitting in the back seat.
A moment later, the Maybach pulled away.
Adrian's sports car entered the complex.
The two vehicles passed each other without either passenger noticing.
"Mr. Vance."
Emma gave Lawrence her sweetest smile.
She'd spent almost the entire day at home doing absolutely nothing.
It had been wonderful.
Then, that evening, Lawrence had called.
Apparently, he needed her for another event.
Emma hadn't expected to make money today.
A pleasant surprise.
Lawrence sat beside her in a perfectly tailored black suit, looking as cold and unapproachable as ever.
His gaze moved briefly toward Emma.
She was wearing a white off-the-shoulder evening dress that showed the delicate line of her collarbones.
Her makeup was light, and her long hair fell softly around her shoulders.
Lawrence's eyes lingered for half a second.
Then he looked away.
Hadn't he already allowed her to call him something more intimate?
Why was she still calling him Mr. Vance?
He looked out the window.
"She's back."
Emma's eyes immediately brightened.
Isabelle?
Excellent.
If Isabelle was finally back, then Emma's assignment should be almost finished.
And Emma was less than a month away from graduating anyway.
Perfect timing.
Finish the contract.
Get paid.
Graduate.
Move on.
Beautiful.
Emma was just about to speak when Lawrence added,
"She brought her boyfriend."
Emma:
"......"
Damn.
Isabelle did not come home to negotiate.
She came home with artillery.
Lawrence had hired another woman to make Isabelle jealous.
Isabelle had responded by bringing home an entire boyfriend.
Emma suddenly felt like she'd been hired as a background extra in a very expensive emotional arms race.
She immediately turned toward Lawrence.
"It's okay, Mr. Vance."
Her voice softened.
"You have me."
Emma had absolutely no idea who was right or wrong in this situation.
And frankly, it wasn't part of her job description.
Lawrence paid her.
Therefore, during billable hours—
Emma was Team Lawrence.
Presumably, Lawrence wanted Isabelle to be the one who lost her composure first.
Fine.
Emma could work with that.
All she had to do was look completely devoted to him.
Make Isabelle believe Lawrence had moved on.
Maybe Isabelle would get jealous.
Easy.
Emma's voice was naturally soft, and when she wanted to sound sincere, she was extremely convincing.
The quiet certainty in those three words landed somewhere unexpectedly deep in Lawrence's chest.
He turned toward her.
Emma was looking at him with warm, unwavering eyes.
You have me.
For some reason, the irritation that had been sitting in his chest all day eased slightly.
They hadn't even been together for five minutes.
Lawrence looked away.
His voice remained cool.
"And what exactly are you going to do?"
Emma smiled gently.
"I'll stay by your side."
She paused.
"For as long as you need me."
Lawrence's brow tightened slightly.
He turned toward the window again.
Stay by my side?
But his heart belonged to Isabelle.
Emma was destined to get hurt.
A faint sense of guilt settled over him.
Maybe he should pay her more.
Money couldn't fix everything.
But in his experience, it fixed quite a lot.
Emma, had she known what he was thinking, would have strongly agreed.
"Are we going to see her now?" Emma asked.
"It's her friend's birthday."
Three years.
Isabelle had been gone for three years.
And now she was finally back.
Emma lowered her eyes.
She was already planning tonight's performance.
How close should she stand?
Arm linked through his?
Hand on his sleeve?
Occasional loving gaze?
Nothing too aggressive.
Elegant jealousy.
Premium package.
The car became quiet.
Lawrence glanced sideways.
Emma was leaning slightly toward the window, her eyes lowered.
From his angle, she looked...
hurt.
A strange feeling moved through his chest.
Had he just hurt a woman who genuinely cared about him?
Lawrence looked away.
He'd compensate her.
Generously.
She couldn't have him.
But she could definitely have money.
Emma would have considered this an excellent arrangement.
Her phone suddenly vibrated.
She looked down.
Emma frowned.
Again?
What did he want now?
She declined the call.
A few seconds later—
her phone vibrated again.
Emma stared at the screen.
Her patience disappeared.
She blocked the number.
There.
Peace.
Sir, please stop interfering with my income.
Lawrence glanced toward her.
"Who was that?"
The question left his mouth before he had time to think about it.
He paused.
Why did he care who was calling her?
Emma looked up and gave him a sweet smile.
"Spam call."
Lawrence said nothing.
At that exact moment, Adrian was standing outside Emma's apartment.
He'd knocked several times.
Nothing.
So he'd called her.
The first call had gone through.
She hadn't answered.
He tried again.
This time—
straight to voicemail.
Adrian slowly lowered the phone.
His face went pale.
The first call had connected.
Now it didn't.
There was only one obvious explanation.
She blocked my number.
Adrian stared at his phone.
First she'd blocked him on the messaging app.
Now she'd blocked his actual number.
His chest tightened.
How had things gotten this bad?
What had happened?
Yesterday they'd eaten dinner together.
Today she wouldn't even let him call her.
Adrian paced back and forth outside her apartment like a malfunctioning Roomba.
He ran one hand through his carefully styled blue hair, completely ruining it.
Then he pulled out his phone again.
He needed help.
Real help.
Preferably from someone who actually understood women.
He called Ryan Brooks.
"Where are you?"
Loud music came through the phone.
"I'm out."
"Send me the address."
Ryan immediately noticed something was wrong.
"What happened?"
Adrian's patience snapped.
"The address, Ryan."
Ryan pulled the phone slightly away from his ear.
"Okay, damn."
Adrian ended the call.
Ryan stared at his screen.
Why was Adrian asking him for the address?
He should already know where everyone was tonight.
Trace had invited him too.
"Isabelle!"
"Happy birthday!"
Isabelle Monroe, dressed in an elegant white dress, stepped forward and hugged Trace Donovan.
Trace wore a bright yellow cocktail dress.
She returned the hug.
"Thanks."
Her smile was slightly forced.
Lawrence was definitely coming tonight.
Which meant Isabelle would get exactly what she wanted.
Trace, however, had a different problem.
She'd messaged Adrian.
He hadn't replied.
Not once.
She didn't understand it.
Why didn't Adrian like her?
She was beautiful.
She'd even made major life decisions partly because of him.
And Adrian barely looked at her.
Isabelle didn't notice Trace's mood.
She turned toward the blond man beside her.
"This is my best friend."
Her boyfriend smiled and gave Trace a friendly hug.
"Happy birthday."
"Thank you."
Then someone near the entrance spoke.
"Lawrence is here."
The atmosphere changed almost instantly.
Most of the people at the party had known one another for years.
And plenty of them knew the history between Lawrence and Isabelle.
Naturally, everyone wanted to see what would happen when Lawrence walked in and found Isabelle standing beside another man.
Isabelle turned toward the entrance.
A tall man in a black suit had just walked in.
Emma was beside him, her arm linked through his.
Isabelle's gaze landed on her.
A faint, cold smile appeared.
So that's her.
The replacement.
At first glance, Emma resembled her.
But after another second—
not really.
The dress.
The makeup.
The styling.
Those were clearly meant to evoke Isabelle.
But Emma herself was different.
Especially her eyes.
Isabelle tightened her grip on her boyfriend's hand.
Then walked toward them.
"Lawrence."
She smiled.
"It's been a long time."
Lawrence's gaze immediately dropped to their intertwined hands.
Strangely—
he didn't feel as much as he'd expected.
No explosion of jealousy.
No overwhelming anger.
His eyes moved to Isabelle's face.
Still nothing dramatic.
"It's been a while."
His voice was calm.
Isabelle studied him.
That wasn't the reaction she'd expected.
So she deliberately moved closer to the blond man beside her.
"Let me introduce you."
She smiled.
"This is my boyfriend, Eric."
Eric held out his hand.
"Nice to meet you."
Lawrence's brow tightened slightly.
After a brief pause, he shook it.
"Likewise."
Eric then turned toward Emma.
"Nice to meet you."
He offered her his hand as well.
Emma smiled and shook it.
At first glance, Eric had thought she looked surprisingly similar to Isabelle.
But after looking at her properly, the resemblance seemed much weaker.
Especially when Emma smiled.
Her eyes curved slightly at the corners, giving her expression a warmth—and a hint of mischief—that Isabelle didn't have.
Eric smiled.
"You're very beautiful."
The atmosphere changed.
Isabelle's smile stiffened.
Lawrence's expression cooled.
Emma:
"......"
Sir.
Read the room.
Isabelle's gaze moved over Emma.
Then she looked at Lawrence.
"Lawrence."
Her voice carried a faint edge.
"Aren't you going to introduce us?"
Before Lawrence could answer—
a man's voice came from nearby.
"Emma?"
Emma turned.