Chapter Fifteen Emmy
Chapter Fifteen
Emmy
Saturday nights are supposed to feel light. Careless. Harmless. Like the choices you make won’t come back to collect their due.
I repeat that lie to myself as I stand in front of the mirror, my bedroom littered with discarded dresses. Too sweet. Too safe. Too much like the girl I’ve been trying to shed.
Then I see it.
The black dress.
Backless. Sparkling. Unapologetic. The kind of dangerous that doesn’t scream, but whispers. My pulse jumps as I pull it over my head, the fabric skimming my skin like it already knows my secrets. I smooth it down slowly, deliberately, and meet my reflection.
She doesn’t look unsure anymore.
I slip into matching heels, fasten my favourite dangling earrings, watching how they catch the light when I tilt my head. There’s something different in my eyes now. Something sharp. Awake.
Bold.
Hot… yes. But more than that,
Untouchable.
Tate lets out a low whistle the moment I step out of my apartment.
“Well damn,” she grins. “Okay, Emmy. I see you.”
I laugh, warmth blooming in my chest as I take her in. “Thanks, Tate. And you,” I gesture helplessly at her, because wow. “You look like an actual goddess.”
She really does. The gold dress clings to her like it was designed with her in mind, catching the light every time she moves. Matching heels, legs for days, her long hair pulled into a sleek high ponytail that only sharpens her already lethal beauty.
If the world were fair, she would’ve been a supermodel. Billboards. Runways. The whole thing.
Instead, she’s here with me, Saturday night, heels clicking against concrete, the city waiting ahead of us like it knows something we don’t.
And for the first time all evening, I feel ready to meet it.
We start the night with drinks, laughter spilling easily between us, the kind that loosens something tight in my chest. The bar is loud, crowded and pulsing with life. Music vibrates through the floor, through my bones, settling low and warm inside me.
For the first time in a long while, I let myself breathe.
I let the noise drown out the weight I’ve been carrying. Let the lights blur the edges of everything that’s been pressing down on me. Just for tonight, I allow myself to exist in the moment, to feel wanted, untethered, free.
I’m weaving my way back from the bathroom when it happens.
I collide with something solid.
Hard.
It’s like walking straight into a wall.
Strong hands steady me instantly, fingers closing around my elbow before I can even gasp. I look up and meet Ryan’s eyes.
“Careful there, Emmy,” he says with an easy smile, his gaze sweeping over me slowly, deliberately, like he’s committing every inch to memory. His grip lingers just a second longer than necessary. “Good to see you. Feels like we’ve been missing each other at work, my security shifts changed.”
Something about the way he says it feels intentional.
We start talking. Then laughing. Then another round appears in front of us, and suddenly time slips sideways. It feels effortless, familiar, like we’ve known each other longer than we have any right to.
Ryan is charming without trying, warm, attentive, the kind of attention that makes you feel seen. Desired. I don’t pull away when he leans closer, his voice dipping just for me.
And I don’t stop smiling.
I don’t notice the shift in the air.
Not when Ryan suggests dancing. Not when his fingers brush mine, light and inviting. The music is too loud, the lights too low, my body already swaying before my mind catches up.
He pulls me onto the dance floor, and I go willingly, laughing as the crowd closes in around us. One of his friends, whose name I still haven’t caught, slides up beside Tate, clearly trying to impress her. She gives him just enough attention to keep him hopeful, clearly amused by the effort.
Ryan moves closer, hands settling at my waist as his hips find the rhythm of mine. My arms lift above my head, following the beat, the music rolling through me in waves. It’s easy. Carefree. Harmless.
Until it isn’t.
Someone steps between us.
Decisive. Uninvited.
My breath catches hard.
Him.
Khai.
His presence is immediate and overwhelming, like gravity suddenly doubling.
Heavy. Inescapable. One second Ryan is in front of me, the next Khai’s hand is on my waist, firm and possessive, pulling me flush against him.
He’s so close I can feel every line of him pressed to me, heat and tension coiling tight.
I don’t even know how he got there.
I catch a glimpse of Ryan over Khai’s shoulder, confused, wary, something like intimidation flickering across his face. I try to apologize with my eyes alone, but Ryan’s gaze has already hardened, fixed on Khai with a scowl.
Khai leans in, his mouth brushing my ear.
“You’re dancing with me,” he says quietly.
It’s not a request.
And the night tilts violently on its axis.
Anger flares hot and sharp. “No,” I snap, shoving at his chest. “What the hell are you doing here?”
I don’t wait for an answer. I turn and storm outside, the night air slamming into my overheated skin like a shock. My heart is racing, too fast, too loud, like it’s trying to outrun him.
It doesn’t.
Footsteps follow. Fast. Certain.
“Don’t,” I warn, spinning around. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to barge in and decide things for me.”
His eyes are dark, stripped of softness, fixed entirely on me. “You were dancing with him.”
“So?” I shoot back, even as something traitorous twists low in my stomach. “I can dance with whoever I want. I’m not yours.”
The moment the words leave my mouth, he moves.
Sharp. Decisive. Inescapable.
He’s suddenly there, too close, his hands coming up, firm but controlled, pinning me against him like he’s afraid I’ll vanish if he loosens his grip. His body cages mine, heat and strength and intention, his gaze burning into me.
He leans in, his mouth brushing my ear, his voice low enough to unravel me.
“You’re wrong,” he murmurs. “You’re mine. You have been since the moment I laid eyes on you.”
My breath stutters. I shove at him again, even as my pulse betrays me. “No,” I insist. “We’re nothing. We’re not dating. I don’t belong to anyone.”
He doesn’t argue.
He kisses me.
It’s not gentle. It’s not hesitant. It’s consuming, stealing the fight right out of my lungs, swallowing my protest whole. My anger splinters, shattering into something dizzy and dangerous, something that makes my knees weaken despite myself.
My hands betray me, flying up to his neck, fingers threading into his hair as I breathe him in like I’ve been starving. His hand slides down my bare back, sending a shiver through me, one settles at my neck, the other firm and possessive at my lower back, anchoring me there.
Claiming me.
When he finally pulls away, it’s only by inches. His forehead rests against mine, his breath warm, his presence overwhelming.
And I’m left trembling, not with fear.
But with the terrible, undeniable truth that he doesn’t just want me.
He consumes me.
“Okay, Little Heaven,” he murmurs softly, his lips brushing mine as he speaks, a slow lick of his mouth betraying just how deliberate this is. “A date it is.”
His voice drops lower, darker. “And I’ll show you exactly how mine you really are.”
The words sink straight into me, stealing the strength from my knees.
Footsteps approach, voices drifting closer. Tate and Ryan step outside, but Khai doesn’t move away. If anything, his arm tightens around my waist, pulling me flush against him, a silent claim made undeniable. He lifts his gaze to Ryan, slow and measured, a knowing smirk curling his mouth.
I can feel Ryan watching us. Measuring. Losing.
“I’ll pick you up tomorrow,” Khai murmurs, his attention never leaving mine. “8 p.m.”
There’s no question in it. No space for refusal.
He leans in again, impossibly close. One hand slides to the back of my neck, fingers tangling in my hair, tugging just enough to tilt my face up to his. His mouth crashes into mine, possessive, unapologetic. Not just a kiss.
A declaration.
When he pulls away, he lingers for a beat, his gaze burning into mine before flicking back to Ryan, one final, lethal look, then he turns and walks off like he hasn’t just unravelled me.
Over his shoulder, he calls out casually, “You better take care of my girl, Tate.”
I don’t move. Can’t.
I’m left standing there stunned, breathless, my heart racing like it’s forgotten how to beat normally.
Tate loops her arm through Ryan’s and grins, light and unbothered. “Well,” she says, planting a quick kiss on his cheek, “I guess it’s you and me now.”
I watch the exchange with surprising calm. No jealousy. Just awareness, as something shifts in Ryan’s eyes, a door cracking open where there hadn’t been one before.
Later, Tate and I climb into a cab, headed back to my place. Her head eventually falls against my shoulder, already drifting. I stare out the window as the city blurs past, my body still humming, my thoughts hopelessly tangled around one undeniable truth:
Whatever Khai is to me,
Nothing about him is accidental.