32. I’m a thief, sweetheart
CHAPTER 32
I’M A THIEF, SWEETHEART
CHARLIE
I ’ve worked my ass off to get an address on Park Blvd. Four hundred square feet overlooking an alleyway might not impress anyone else, but it’s more than I’ve ever had. And—and this is the real kicker—I can afford it.
Never in a million years did I expect to have more than two dollars to scrape together, and here I am, with actual savings, a closet full of labels, and a fridge full of food.
I still don’t know where I’m going, but it’s better than where I’ve been.
Emma was so worked up after meeting with Roberts that I did the only thing I could. I kept her close and brought her home.
I get it now, how she felt when I saw her place for the first time. Opening herself up to scrutiny. Allowing me into the inner sanctum.
I don’t feel like boasting much now.
After what feels like an eternity, she turns back to me, a question in her eyes. “I’m not sure if you remember, but my apartment is on the other side of town.”
“Your point?” It’s a tease, a gamble, to lighten the darkness she’s drowning in. I’m not about to trivialize her anger—she’s earned it—but I want to make it clear that I’m offering her a lifeline.
The smile she gifts me is small but powerful. It lights up the dark corners of my heart in the way only Emma can.
“You’re a good man, Charlie.”
I’ve been called worse things, much truer things, but she can call me anything she wants if it makes her smile.
Because it’s so goddamn beautiful.
And I hate myself, because I’m about to make it disappear.
“I have to tell you something.”
I don’t know what happened in Roberts’s office today, but I can take a pretty good guess. And now I owe her the truth.
Emma is quiet while I lay it all out—how Roberts has been working against her, every ugly detail I remember.
I expect her to blow up. I’d deserve it. So would he. By my own hand, we’ve come full circle—her slighted, me to blame. She should be raging.
I want her to.
She doesn’t. Worse, she apologizes, sorry that I got pulled into a scheme neither of us could have seen coming or had any control over.
It’s a testament to how incredible she is.
What a fucking joke.
No, not a joke. Jokes are funny. Even clever.
This is bullshit. Plain and simple.
“That’s why you were so adamant we work together,” she says.
I nod. “He’s set against you for some reason. So I wanted to make it as difficult as possible for him to pin any win we had on me.”
“Why didn’t you just take it?” she asks. Before I can reiterate because fuck him , she adds, “Not because of Roberts, but because you’ve earned it.”
“I’ve had to fight for a lot in my life, but I’ve never stolen anything, and I’m not about to start now.”
“I should have expected this,” she says with a defeated scoff. “My last boss, Mason, warned me when he left to be wary of Roberts, but I thought I had it under control.”
My gut twists. I’ve seen firsthand how low people can sink, but somehow, they keep going lower.
“Don’t you dare.” I run a hand through my hair. “You’ve done everything right. He’s the asshole. And so am I.”
“Charlie, no.”
“I should have told you earlier.”
“It wouldn’t have changed anything.”
Yeah, but she wouldn’t have been blindsided.
Dammit.
She covers my hand with hers and gives it a light squeeze. “Thank you for telling me.”
It’s a solid hit, enough to put me on my back if I wasn’t sitting. There is absolutely no reason she should be thanking me, but that’s Emma. Beautiful, generous Emma.
She leans back, looking at the ceiling, and lets out a long breath. “This is worse than the time Jesse Olsen tried to cheat on me with my best friend and then stole our ride back to the hotel.” A broken huff of a laugh escapes her. “Good thing he’d forgotten to close out his tab. Once we realized he’d taken off, we enjoyed a very lovely bottle of 2008 Cristal on his dime.”
Her voice is too quiet. She’s trying so damn hard to stay composed, but I don’t need her to be calm for me. I like her fire and brimstone. There’s a fighter in her, and it kills me to see her throw the match.
“I should quit,” she says.
Every fiber of my being revolts at the idea. “Absolutely not.”
She lets her head loll against the back of the couch so she’s facing me. “Why would I stay? You said it yourself; Roberts has it out for me. Whether I get this promotion or not, he’ll find some new way to make my life as difficult as possible.”
For me . Stay for me.
I should know better than to wish for things like that.
“Sometimes I think I’m still there out of spite,” I admit. “Just to prove I could stick it out.”
“And now?” she asks, her brows pinched. “You’re exceptional at your job. There’s no doubt in my mind that you could keep going if you wanted to. But is it what you want? Not because you need to prove something, but for yourself.”
“Not everyone has the luxury of choice.”
She hums, thoughtful. “That’s true. Which is why it’s important to not waste it if you do.”
I’ve never let myself think about it for too long, because once I have an answer, I won’t be able to forget.
I’m not going to lie; I like the lifestyle. Wearing clothes that aren’t secondhand. Slipping on an oxford and a silk tie, walking into the world knowing I look damn good. Powerful. Persuasive.
But we aren’t meant to be talking about me.
“Hold up,” I say, rerouting the conversation. “I already know how good I am. I want to know why it sounds like you’re rolling over right now.” I refuse to let her dim herself for that asshole. “Let me ask you this: if Roberts hadn’t played this bullshit game with us, and the lead team pulled you into a room and said ‘tell us who should get this role,’ what would you say?”
Without answering, she lowers her head, brushes an invisible spot from her pants.
“I get it. You think I’m the best. Honestly, who could blame you?”
It’s not quite a smile, but the curl of her lip sends a wave of relief through me, and I finally unclench my jaw. Now we’re getting somewhere.
“But put all of that aside. Day one, you had no problem telling me you’d earned that job. What’s so different now?”
She sighs, keeping her gaze averted. “I appreciate your faith in me, but this isn’t a self-esteem issue. I should have done more, fought harder, pushed more.”
Shifting in my seat, I angle in closer. “Don’t beat yourself up.”
“Why not?” she asks.
Fuck. I hate seeing her like this. Hate that I feel so useless.
“You shouldn’t want the approval of a dickwad like that.”
“I don’t want it,” she says. “But I won’t get anywhere without it.”
She’s stronger than me, able to put herself aside for those she loves. What Emma needs is someone to be selfless for her.
“I’m in awe of you,” she says, because the world makes no sense, and Emma will never cease to amaze me. “You learned to play the game, but it’s more than that.” She turns to me, and every word makes me fall faster. “You have a natural talent for people. The kind of skill that other people pay thousands of dollars to learn. None of them make it look as good as you. It’s no wonder they want you.”
Honestly, the longer this project goes on, the less I want it. I wanted to earn the role, not feel like I was ripping my own heart out and sticking it into a hydraulic press.
“They want me because they think I’m one of them. Thanks, but no thanks.” I shake my head and shudder. “And do you really want to play who is better? Because I’m good, but I’ve got nothing on you, sweetheart.”
She looks away. It’s physically painful not to wrap my arms around her, show her how much she means to me. “We’re smart. We can figure this out.”
“How?” Her eyes swim with doubt. “Nothing we do will matter if Roberts isn’t going to back us up.”
My heart aches at the defeat in her voice. “I’ll fix it.” I’ll do whatever it takes.
So softly her words are hard to make out, she says, “I’m not sure you can.”
“Then we’ll face it together.”
If she needs help breaking down barriers, I’ll ask her to point and be her wrecking ball. If she wants to go high, I’ll give her a boost. If she wants to go low, I’ll grab a shovel and start digging. There’s nowhere I won’t follow. No corner I won’t have her back in.
“Okay, that’s it.” I stand before I do something stupid like kiss her or drown us both in my weak, mortal feelings.
“You want to know my secret? Well, here it is.” I hold out a hand, and when she slides her palm along mine, I pull her up. “Stand tall, shoulders back, chin up. Make them look up at you.”
Her lips curl into a smile. “It’s like being back at school.”
“Are you going to call me sir?” I waggle my brows, lust stirring under my skin.
She tugs on my tie, her attention slipping to my mouth. “Only if you’re good.”
Christ.
My pulse kicks up, and want roars in my ears. Damn if I don’t love a woman who takes control, enjoys the blood-pumping back-and-forth of taking and giving ground. And in all my life, no one has matched me like Emma does.
“Yes, ma’am.”
I’m playing with fire, waving a flare at a T-Rex and hoping I don’t get eaten. But I can’t stop.
She wants it, that’s obvious. Her pulse flutters at the base of her throat, and she’s practically vibrating. I keep waiting, fucking ready to let her devour me. Desperate to know if she’ll follow through.
What she’ll do.
“What next?” she whispers.
I’ve known hunger before, but never like this.
“Use silence to your advantage. Make them wait, and they’ll fill it for you. They’ll show their hand before they’re ready.”
I lick my lips, heart pounding in my chest as she drops her gaze and copies me. I swallow past the tightness in my throat.
“Another trick is to know when to give them no other options, even when there’s an alternative. If you know the best way, and we both know you usually do, present that and that alone. If they don’t like it? Make them explain why. Put them in the hot seat. It’s a great way to see their true intentions. Don’t be afraid to push back.”
How the hell does she not see just how powerful she is?
Emma doesn’t simply solve problems, she vaporizes them.
“Don’t shrink yourself for anyone,” I say, crowding in, dizzy with the heat pouring off her. “You’re damn good at what you do, and when you stop forgetting that, you’ll be fucking unstoppable.”
No wonder Roberts is scared of her. The entire world should cower at her feet.
If management knew what they had, he’d be reporting to her.
I run my fingers along her jaw. “With your words and my charm, we can do anything.”
There’s wonder in the look she’s giving me. Want and awe and all of it is dangerous to my resolve. When she licks her lips, I stop breathing.
If we don’t do something else, and soon, I’m going to mess up this friendship.
I step back. “Hey, do you want a beer?”
Her lips part, and her cheeks are a deep red. “I’d love one.”
“Good. I know just the place.”