Page 43

EMMA

T he temperature in the car drops a few degrees as we make our way to Vera's residence.

Klaus hasn't said a word for the entire duration of the drive. I wouldn't think anything of it usually. He's a naturally broody, quiet man. But there's been a shift in his energy. His body language gives him away—the tense muscles, the hard jaw, his lost eyes.

He's anywhere but here.

I know I shouldn't, but I can't help but overthink it.

"I need to pee," James announces.

"We're almost there, James," Klaus says, turning toward his nephew. "Can you wait fifteen minutes?"

"I need to pee now," James says.

"Sir, there's a Starbucks up front," the chauffeur says.

Klaus's eyes flash with annoyance, but he grunts. We stop in front of the coffee shop. I'm about to unbuckle my seat belt, but Klaus turns in my direction.

"I got it," he says. "Stay in the car."

He doesn't even look at me. I chew on my bottom lip as he takes James inside the Starbucks.

Something is definitely off. He wasn't able to take his eyes off me all evening. But now, he can't even bring himself to look at me.

I shouldn't be jumping to conclusions, but I can't help but wonder if it was something I said or did.

"Mom used to always get me a cake pop whenever she got coffee," Rosalie says, distracting me from my thought spiral.

I suck in a breath. It's the first time Rosalie has opened up about her mom with me.

"Venti brown sugar oat milk shaken double espresso with light ice," she says.

I chuckle. "Is that what she ordered?"

Rosalie nods. "Sometimes, she even let me have a sip. I love coffee. But only Mom's coffee. Dad's coffee was gross. He had it black ."

She makes a face, like she can still taste the bitterness of the coffee in her mouth.

"I didn't like my dad," she says. "He used to hit her. That's why she's hiding now."

My mouth drops open, but I recover quickly.

I don't even know what to say to that. This wasn't included in the nanny training manual.

My eyes clash with the driver's. He's pretending to look at his phone, but I know he heard every word Rosalie just said.

"Rosalie, what do you mean she's hiding now?" I ask.

"You should ask Uncle Klaus about it," Rosalie replies. "He knows everything."

I glance toward the coffee shop again. I can make out Klaus's silhouette through the glass facade. He stands out in the crowd like a god among mortals.

As if he can feel me watching him, he turns to look at me. I can't make out his face perfectly, but I can tell he's frowning.

"I had a good time today, Miss Turner," Rosalie says. "Skating makes me really happy."

"I'm glad you had fun, kiddo," I say, smiling at her.

Her words still swirl around in my head. She spoke about her mom in the present tense. I wonder what she meant by it. It's possible that it's a coping mechanism. She could be keeping her mom alive in her head because she's not ready to let go of her yet.

My heart squeezes with empathy.

It's probably not the best thing to spoil her with sweets, but I want to do something that makes her happy.

"Do you want a cake pop?" I ask her.

Her eyes light up instantly. "Yes. The birthday cake one with the rainbow sprinkles on top. And James likes the chocolate one."

"Okay, stay here," I say. "I'll get it for you."

She squeals. I can't help but smile. I was her age once. I remember what it's like to be easily thrilled by the small things in life.

I get out of the car and walk toward the coffee shop.

Just as I reach the door, Klaus steps outside holding James's hand. There are thunderstorms in his eyes as he looks down at me.

"I told you to stay in the car, Emma," he says.

"I wanted to get a cake pop for Rosalie," I say.

"We're leaving," he says. " Now ."

James looks between the two of us, confused about the sudden shift in the air.

I take a deep breath.

My heart breaks in two.

It's happening. A part of me has always feared it. He told me he wouldn't go cold on me again, but it's just his nature. It's just who he is. He shuts himself off from the whole world just so he won't feel anything.

Tears rush to my eyes.

"Jesus Christ," he says. "Go ahead and get the cake pops."

I brush past him, blinking hard to keep the tears from falling. I stand in the short line and try not to have a meltdown in public.

I keep my eyes on the floor. The world turns blurry as my thoughts race.

There's a reason his coldness hurts me so much. It touches on old wounds of feeling unwanted. And that's not a headspace I ever want to return to again.

If he's going to be this way with me, it's better that I leave his world.

"Ma'am?" the barista asks. "What can I get for you?"

I realize that I'm at the front of the line now. I don't trust my voice not to break, so I'm about to step aside. But the scent of musky sandalwood infiltrates my nostrils. His body heat envelops me like a warm embrace.

"Cake pops," he says. "One of each."

He pays for the order and gets the paper bag. Instead of walking us toward the car, he guides me to one of the couches. He sits down next to me and takes my hand in his.

"What's wrong?" he asks gently.

"Nothing," I say, taking another deep breath.

"Something's clearly bothering you," he says, brushing his thumb over my hand with so much tenderness that it brings another wave of tears to my eyes.

I look up at him. The tears roll down my cheeks.

He flinches at the sight of them.

"Was it something I said?" I ask. "I know you don't like it when I plan things for the kids without your permission, but I thought skating would be a fun activity for us."

"It's not that, Emma," he says.

"I thought we were having a good time, but you got all distant out of nowhere," I say. "Was it because of what James said about us being like a family? Because I want you to know that I don't expect anything from you. I know my place in your world."

His eyes narrow into slits.

"You're joking, right?" he says.

I clasp my hands together, trying to hide their trembling.

I'm too afraid to say the truth. And the truth is that I care too much about this man.

I always told myself that I wouldn't fall for the wealthy, arrogant type, but I never really had a choice when it came to Klaus.

He sucked me into his orbit from the very first time we met.

He's had me in the palm of his hand ever since.

"Emma, look at me," he says.

I lift my gaze. I shouldn't be ashamed of this. I'll let my eyes cry. I'll let my heart bleed. I'll let my soul hurt.

"Do you really think that little of me?" he asks.

"I don't know what to think when it comes to you," I whisper. "That's what scares me the most. You know everything about me, but I feel like I barely scratched the surface when it comes to you."

"I'm sorry I made you feel that way," he says, taking my hand in his. His thumb brushes against the back of my hand. "If I've been distant, it's only because I have a lot on my mind."

"Why?" I tilt my head, studying him. "What changed all of a sudden?"

His eyes look haunted. Whatever it is, he doesn't want to share it with me.

Something occurs to me then.

"Is Vera an old flame?" I ask.

"No," he replies, his brows knitting together. "She's only ever been a friend to me."

"Okay, what is it then?" I ask.

"Can you take my word for it when I say it has nothing to do with what you said or did?" he says.

I want to press him further because whatever it was, it rattled him. But maybe this conversation can wait until later.

"Okay, I'm sorry," I say. "I didn't mean to jump to conclusions like that."

"Emma," he says, squeezing my hand in his larger one. "You're allowed to express your emotions with me. I meant it when I said that I want to know every little thing that's going on in that beautiful head of yours."

As we stare at each other, I'm hit by a wave of longing. I want to kiss him right now, just to reassure myself that nothing has changed between us.

And by the heated look in his eyes, I can tell he's thinking the same thing.

I don't expect him to actually go for it.

He cups the back of my head and pulls me closer. He looks into my eyes for a moment before his heavy gaze drops to my lips. Everything inside me thaws as he presses his lips against mine.

It's a reassuring kiss—one that lets me know he's not going anywhere. It's a kiss of ownership. He's staked his claim on me and marked me as his.

"You belong to me now, Emma," he says. "And I take care of what's mine. Do you understand that?"

My heart all but combusts. I didn't know it was possible to feel this much. But this man makes me feel everything all at once.

"Okay," I whisper.

"Good," he says. "Now let's go to my platonic friend's house for dinner."

"You don't have to say it like that," I say, standing up.

His large hand rests on my lower back as we walk toward the parked car. The second we step outside the coffee shop, his fingers dig into my skin. He's on edge. His eyes scan our surroundings, looking for an invisible threat.

I reach for his arm and squeeze his bicep. He doesn't relax until I'm inside the car again.

I hand the cake pops to the kids. They demolish them in under thirty seconds.

Klaus is inside the car, but his mind is somewhere else. He's lost in thought again, worrying about something he refuses to share with me.

"Are you okay, Miss Turner?" Rosalie asks.

Everyone in the car looks at me. I nod.

"Yes, sweetheart," I say. "I'm fine."

I still feel Rosalie watching me. The words she said earlier haunt my head.

That's why she's hiding now. You should ask Uncle Klaus about it. He knows everything.

For not the first time, I'm left wonderingif I know this family as well as I think I do.