Chapter 5
Noah
Emma sits down across from me, her gaze averted and directed toward her lap. I can’t help but notice the slight tremor in her hands, as if she’s terrified of me. I’m furious, but I’m still taken aback by her reaction.
Emma is undeniably a beautiful woman. Her long and silky brown hair cascades over her shoulders and her eyes are a uniquely dark brown that pulls you in. Her skin, which is usually smooth and creamy, appears almost ghostly pale today. There are dark circles under her eyes and it unsettles me. Something feels off about her right now, but I’m forced to remind myself that it’s not my problem. I try to mask the discomfort I feel at her appearance behind my anger.
“Do I need to remind you of my expectations?” I ask, clasping my fingers together on top of the desk, the air crackling with tension. I study her, waiting for her to raise her head and meet my gaze, but she doesn’t. She remains focused on her lap. Her voice is weak when she replies, “No sir, it won’t happen again. I am so sorry. Last night I—“
“I. Don’t. Care. About last night,” I interject; the words come out sharper than I intended, but I can’t let either one of us forget where the line is. Her eyes snap up to mine at the sound of my voice. “Apparently, I do need to remind you. What happens during your personal time is not my concern and should not affect your job.”
The silence in the room feels deafening. I watch as resignation creeps across her face, shadows flickering in her eyes. “I am truly so sorry. I promise this won’t happen again. Please, just give me another chance,” her voice trembles with sincerity as she holds eye contact with me this time, for several beats. I’m almost impressed she refuses to look away. Almost. But there’s also a flicker of defiance in her expression.
As I hold her gaze, the pleading depth in her eyes pulls me in. “Emma,” I say, allowing my voice to soften just a fraction. “You need to understand that I value professionalism above all else. I can’t tolerate you showing up late.”
There’s a part of me that wants to reach out, to reassure her and offer some comfort, but that would be treading too close to a dangerous line. “This is your only warning. Close the door behind you on your way out.” I turn back to my computer, looking for a distraction in order to ignore the strange feeling persisting in my chest.
Emma hurries out of my office, once I hear the soft click of the door closing, I lean back in my chair and exhale sharply, rubbing a hand down my face. My mind is filled with deadlines, projects, and our upcoming trip to Japan. It’s crucial that everything goes smoothly there. I need a reliable assistant, but I also don’t have time to start over with the hiring process to find a new one. She better pull herself together fast.
After I send a few emails and make some urgent phone calls, the weight of my interaction with Emma lingers in my mind. I decide to take a break and grab a second cup of coffee, hoping the extra dose of caffeine will clear my head.
On my way back from the coffee bar, I catch sight of Emma at her desk, and my heart plummets. Her usual vibrant energy is now dull, her eyes are slightly red around the rims, and I can see a subtle swell beneath them. Did I really make her cry already? I hardly even reprimanded her this morning.
Watching her now, that feeling in my chest turns into a knot, and a mixture of confusion and concern swirls within me. Maybe I’ve been a little too harsh. I feel a strange sense of protectiveness that clashes with my role as her boss.
But, I choose silence and retreat to my office, resolving to give her a reprieve today—no extra tasks, no added pressure. Just this once, I’ll grant her a day to gather herself. But tomorrow, she’d better bring her A-game.
The minutes tick by, but my thoughts remain stubbornly anchored to her. The delicate balance between compassion and professionalism weighs heavily on my mind. I want to call her back into my office to check on her, but I can't. We’re here to work, not be friends. I’ve learned my lesson in the past; showing even a hint of kindness can lead to complications very quickly.
———
The rest of the week goes by much smoother than I anticipated. Emma surprises me by coming in earlier than scheduled. She tackles each task with impressive efficiency and doesn’t bat an eye at any assignment I give her. I find I have no complaints. She is a quick learner, I’ll give her that.
By five-thirty Friday morning, I’m already at the airport, waiting on the jet. The anticipation of this trip has been constantly at the forefront of my mind. I’m anxious to get this over with.
I’m reviewing some documents when I hear footsteps ascending the stairs of the jet. Emma appears a second later, and I can’t help but raise my eyebrows at her appearance. She looks like she just rolled out of bed. Her usual silky, beautiful hair is in a messy bun, and her face is bare of makeup, making her pale complexion even more prominent. In fact, she looks even paler than she did the other day in my office. A pang of concern strikes me, but I brush off the thought, convincing myself she must have a fear of flying.
“Good morning, Mr. Lawson,” Emma greets me, placing her bag in the seat next to mine.
“Good morning, Ms. Sterling,” I reply, carefully observing her. “You alright? You look a little under the weather.”
“Oh, yeah, I’ll be fine. I just didn’t sleep well.” Her voice is light and reassuring, yet she quickly averts her eyes away from mine. After an awkward pause, she excuses herself to the restrooms at the back of the plane. Her reaction felt a little odd, almost evasive.
Shrugging off the thought, I turn back and take another glance at her—my curiosity getting the best of me. She’s wearing black tights today that cling to her toned thighs. She’s also wearing an oversized hoodie that hides her body, although I know her petite waist and full breasts are underneath. Stop checking out your employee, you sick fuck, I internally chide myself.
Emma returns and settles in the window seat just before the plane begins to taxi down the runway.
“Sorry about that,” she murmurs, bucking her seatbelt. “I’m not feeling well this morning.” She crosses her arms protectively over her stomach.
A wave of concern washes over me. Once again I feel uncomfortable with these sudden feelings I’m having toward her. “Well, hopefully you can sleep it off during the flight. I have a lunch meeting shortly after we land that I don’t need you for. You can check into your hotel room and be ready for dinner by six.”
“Are you sure you don’t need me for the lunch meeting as well? I’ll be fine. I don’t mind diving straight into work mode.” She meets my gaze, and I try to resist those striking eyes of hers that always pull me in.
I make a point to look her up and down before I answer. “I think it’s best if you skip this one. I’m just touching base with a few investors. I don’t need you there.” I’m hoping my tone conveys a firm dismissal. I do want her there, but she doesn’t need to know that.
“Okay, I’ll be ready to go at six then.” Disappointment flickers across her face and she blushes before turning her attention to the window. I feel like a dick. The pilot makes his announcements and then we are speeding off for takeoff, the roar of the engines drowns out the awkward silence between us.
I take my time looking at Emma’s profile as she stares out the window. She’s mesmerized by the view, yet I can see the tension in her body. Glancing down, a pang of empathy hits me when I notice her knuckles turning white as she grips the armrests tighter. I guess my assumption was right, she is afraid of flying.
Resting my ankle over my knee, I fidget restlessly with the urge to touch her. To comfort her. I clear my throat, trying to find something to say. “Have you ever flown before?”
She closes her eyes and leans back, releasing a long, shaky breath. “Yes, but I usually take something to calm myself down. I’ve also only ever flown commercial before. A private jet feels a little different.”
I nod in understanding. “I’ll ask if they keep something on board that can help,” I say, reaching for my seatbelt. But just as I start to unbuckle myself, her warm hand lands on mine, hovering dangerously close to my crotch. The closeness sends an electric current through my body.
“No, I’ll be okay once the plane reaches altitude and levels o—“ her words are cut off as we hit a sudden patch of turbulence that rattles the cabin. Her hand shoots from mine and grips my thigh on instinct. Her fingers curl on my leg tightly. Her hand is now even closer to my dick and makes me twitch. The heat of her touch ignites a wave of awareness that surges through my veins.
“S-sorry,” she stammers, her cheeks flush as she quickly removes her hand from my leg and places it back onto the armrest. I feel terrible for forcing her to come along on this trip when she has such a fear of flying.
“Let me see what they can give you; you clearly need it.” I move my leg to stand up, but before I do, she grips the back of my elbow.
“I don’t want to take anything,” she insists. “I promise I’ll be fine. Takeoff is the only part that bothers me.” Her gaze locks onto mine.
“Very well then,” I reply, leaning back into my seat once again, re-buckling my seatbelt with a reluctant sigh. I close my eyes and focus on the comforting hum of the engines. A small smile tugs at my lips when I realize her fear is precisely why she chose to sit next to me, even with so many other seats available on this plane. I have work to do, but there’s plenty of time on the flight to do it later.
I'm not sure how much time passes when I’m suddenly jolted awake. I must have been sleeping hard, my body feels heavy and it takes me a minute to realize where I am. Then I realize Emma's head is laying on my shoulder and my head is gently resting on top of hers. The first thing that registers in my mind is how delicious her hair smells, like she’s fresh from the shower, lathered with a sweet and citrusy shampoo. I internally scold myself for going down that path of inappropriate thoughts again. I cautiously sit up, trying my best not to disturb Emma. But as I sit up, my movement wakes her. She jerks her head up suddenly with a startled expression, and she blushes immediately—it’s cute, and I hate myself for thinking that it's cute.
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” she exclaims, wide-eyed.
Standing up to stretch my legs, I throw her a reassuring smile. “No worries at all. I’m going to the back of the plane to get some work done. Feel free to go back to sleep—you’ll need your energy for that event tonight. They can run pretty late sometimes. Also make time to familiarize yourself with the attendees’ list and what companies they are with, although our priority is Mr. Adachi.”
I move toward the back of the plane, needing to put as much distance between us as possible. Why am I feeling like a horny, love-sick teenager lately? Settling into a seat near the restrooms, I set up my laptop and dive deep into financial reports. But my thoughts betray me and keep drifting back to her. I only pause to eat a quick meal and pour myself a scotch to dull the nerves—just one at first, but then a second soon follows. The warming liquid helps ease the tension just a little bit. I tell myself it’s for the stress, for the workload, but deep down, I know it’s a weak attempt to numb my thoughts of her.