Chapter 1 #2
After spending enough time around wealthy men with complicated personalities, Emma had become extremely good at reading moods.
Lawrence was in a terrible mood.
She smiled softly.
"Mr. Vance, are you having a bad day?"
Lawrence slowly turned toward her.
His hand suddenly shot out.
His fingers closed around her throat.
Emma's eyes widened.
"You think you're important enough to ask me that?"
His voice was low and cold.
Emma immediately understood.
This was part of the performance.
He wasn't actually trying to hurt her.
The pressure wasn't enough to cause damage.
Fine.
She could handle that.
Then Lawrence lifted the hand holding the cigarette.
Emma's eyes sharpened.
Absolutely not.
She caught his wrist.
"Mr. Vance."
Her voice remained soft.
"Don't."
Lawrence frowned.
Emma didn't mind the fake aggression.
She didn't mind being treated like the pathetic replacement in his tragic romance story.
That was literally what she was being paid for.
But physical injury?
No.
That was outside the contract.
Her agreement clearly stated that clients were not permitted to physically harm her.
If they did, she could terminate the contract immediately.
There were penalties.
And if things became serious, she could call the police.
Emma might be a professional, but she wasn't stupid.
Especially when five wealthy men currently depended on her for emotional services.
She had learned to protect herself.
A girl who worked around powerful men needed more than a pretty face.
She needed boundaries.
And, when necessary, a little self-defense.
Lawrence looked down at her small hand wrapped around his wrist.
Emma noticed the moment his attention shifted.
A weakness.
Perfect.
She moved.
Emma lunged forward, caught his wrist, and pressed it against the edge of the window.
Then she scratched the center of his palm.
Lawrence's fingers twitched.
"What the—"
His grip loosened.
Emma immediately pulled away.
And then—
A knock sounded against the car window.
Both of them froze.
A police officer stood outside.
He glanced through the window.
Then at Lawrence.
Then at Emma.
The two of them were sitting far too close together.
The officer frowned.
"Everything okay in here?"
Emma blinked.
Lawrence's expression darkened.
"Yes."
The officer didn't move.
"I saw the car stopped here for a while. Just wanted to make sure there wasn't some kind of disturbance."
"There isn't."
Lawrence opened the door and stepped outside.
He adjusted his jacket.
The officer looked at him.
"Do you know the woman?"
"Yes."
"Are you two together?"
Lawrence paused.
Emma held her breath.
"Yes."
The answer came without hesitation.
The officer nodded.
"Okay. She seemed pretty upset."
Lawrence glanced back at Emma.
"She isn't hurt."
"Good."
The officer looked between them once more.
"I just wanted to make sure everything was consensual and nobody needed assistance."
"Understood."
Lawrence gave a short nod.
The officer looked at the cigarette between his fingers.
"And don't leave that on the street."
Lawrence glanced down.
"I won't."
"Have a good night."
"You too."
The officer walked away.
Lawrence got back into the car.
He closed the door.
Silence.
Emma slowly moved toward her side of the seat.
Lawrence straightened his jacket.
Then he looked at her.
"What exactly did you think I was doing?"
Emma blinked.
She looked at the cigarette.
Then at him.
Then back at the cigarette.
Oh.
He'd only been trying to put it out.
She had completely misunderstood.
Well.
At least Lawrence Vance had basic human decency.
Good to know.
Emma immediately switched back into professional mode.
"I didn't mean that I was afraid you'd hurt me."
She gently took his hand and placed it against her throat.
"I just..."
Her voice became soft.
"If something happened to my face, I wouldn't be able to stay by your side anymore."
She gave him a wounded little smile.
"That would hurt more than anything."
Lawrence stared at her.
Emma smiled sweetly.
"Go ahead, Mr. Vance."
His eyes narrowed.
Then he pulled his hand away.
"Get lost."
Emma curled herself into the far corner of the back seat.
Her expression looked completely devastated.
Inside?
She was thrilled.
Perfect.
No argument.
No contract termination.
No extra work.
She hadn't even had to do anything.
From the driver's seat, Mark glanced at them through the rearview mirror.
He had worked for Lawrence long enough to know when to keep his mouth shut.
Still, he couldn't help feeling a little sorry for Emma.
Then again, everyone had bills to pay.
The Maybach moved smoothly through the city.
Eventually, they stopped outside a luxury hotel.
Before getting out, Lawrence spoke.
"Tonight is a welcome-back party for one of her friends."
Emma paused.
Oh.
Now she understood.
His untouchable ideal—the girl who ruined him for anyone else—is back.
Well, technically, she wasn't back yet.
She was still traveling in another country.
But one of her close friends had returned and was hosting the party tonight.
That explained Lawrence's mood.
And it explained why Emma had been hired.
Her job was simple.
Make Lawrence look happy.
Make them look close.
Make anyone watching believe they were deeply involved.
If the woman's friends saw them together, the story would eventually reach her.
Maybe she'd hear about it.
Maybe she'd get curious.
Maybe she'd finally come back.
And if she did?
Great.
Mission accomplished.
Emma had never believed Lawrence would fall in love with her.
This wasn't romance.
It was business.
Once the contract expired, she would leave.
Simple.
Professional.
"Understood."
Emma checked her watch.
"But I only have ninety minutes."
She had another client later.
And that client had booked her for a rather complicated little game that required considerably more energy than smiling at a party.
Lawrence glanced at her.
"Ninety minutes is plenty."
His voice was cold.
"I have no intention of keeping you beside me any longer than necessary."
Then he added:
"Don't get any ideas. You're only a replacement."
Emma stared at him.
"......"
Fine.
Whatever.
As long as he didn't run over her allotted time.
She had money to make.
The Maybach disappeared into the hotel's private entrance.
Neither of them noticed the red sports car entering the parking garage behind them.
The engine shut off.
The driver's door opened.
A young man stepped out.
His hair was dyed a striking shade of blue.
He ran a hand through it, clearly irritated.
"God, this is annoying."
He looked toward the hotel entrance.
"I'll stay for an hour. Smile at the right people. Then I'm leaving."
He straightened his jacket.
"Who the hell needs an arranged marriage?"
The young man scoffed.
"I certainly don't."
Then Adrian Mercer walked into the luxury hotel.
And he had absolutely no idea that the woman who had spent the past year desperately following him around—
had just quit.