Page 55

EMMA

“ R eader, I married him,” I read out loud.

The four words make me pause.

I’m still reading Jane Eyre to my grandmother. We started the book before I even took up the nanny position. We’re at the end of the book now. It’s where the two characters have their happily ever after.

Something about this book holds a mirror up to my face. It shows me an alternative reality of what could have been. Of what should have been.

“A quiet wedding we had: he and I, the parson and clerk, were alone present. When we got back from church, I went into the kitchen of the manor-house, where Mary was cooking the dinner, and John cleaning the knives, and I said—‘Mary, I have been married to Mr. Rochester this morning.’”

I finish reading the final chapter and then close the book. I stare at the illustrated cover of the classic novel.

My grandmother reaches for my hand, breaking the spell I’m cast under.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asks.

I put the book away and reach for another one from the stack on the bedside table. It’s another classic, but thankfully, it doesn’t contain any romance.

“I’m not sure if I’m in the mood for Frankenstein, dear,” she says.

“How about Dostoevsky?” I ask, picking out another book.

“No depressing books,” she says. “And I don’t need you to read to me anymore, Emma. I want you to talk to me.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” I say.

“Really? You’re lying to me now?” she asks, folding her arms over her chest.

I look at my grandmother. Something in me softens at the sight of her. She gained back the weight she had lost. There’s color in her cheeks and vitality in her eyes.

It’s been a few weeks since the Elysium incident.

I half expected that Klaus would change his mind and kick me out of his house, but that hasn’t happened yet. Vera dropped by to give my grandmother the antidote. Ever since then, there’s been a drastic improvement in my grandmother’s health.

Even though I didn’t ask for it, Klausarranged a room for my grandmother in the house.

I expected him to fight with me. I expected us to scream at each other until our throats turned hoarse. But there has only been radio silence between us.

We might as well be strangers.

“I’m not lying, Grandma,” I say. “There’s simply nothing to talk about.”

“Tell me what’s on your mind, Emma,” she says. “I’m worried about you.”

I stand and walk to the window.

Even if I wanted to discuss it, I wouldn’t know where to begin.

I don’t know how to tell my grandmother I took up a job at the gentlemen’s club.

I don’t know how to tell her that I crossed all professional boundaries with my billionaire boss.

I don’t know how to tell her that we broke each other’s hearts.

I feel like I’ve been robbed of a future that should have been mine.

It was promised to me, but everything fell apart. And this time, I really wanted to hold on to this love.

“I was talking to Helena earlier,” she says. “She told me what happened.”

“How much did she tell you?” I ask.

“You love that man, don’t you?” she asks.

“It doesn’t matter,” I say. “He doesn’t feel the same way about me.”

“And what makes you think that?”

“Because I know, Grandma,” I say. “I know just how much I mean to him.”

I shared my body with Klaus. I shared my deepest secrets and gave my heart to him. I trusted him with it, but he only ever wanted me for sexual pleasure. That was the only thing about me that ever appealed to him.

“I don’t know what happened between you two, but that man still cares about you,” she says.

My heart starts thumping against my ribcage.

I want it all to be a lie. I want to unhear the words I heard that night. I want to go back to the way things used to be.

But that will never happen.

“A man may not always show love through words, but you’ll always be able to tell by his actions,” she says. “And every single thing he’s done points to the obvious.”

“Please don’t fill my head with nonsense,” I say, squeezing my eyes shut.

I can’t go back to living in a fantasy world. He’s not the charming hero, and I’m not the princess worth fighting for.

He made that abundantly clear.

“Think about it, Emma,” my grandmother continues. “That man has no reason to pay off our debts or go out of his way to provide treatment for me. He has no reason to invite me to his home just so I can be close to you. He wouldn’t be doing any of it if he didn’t care about you.”

“If you heard the things he said about me behind my back, you wouldn’t think he’s such a great man.”

She must hear the way my voice breaks because she falls silent. I brace myself for the inevitable questions—but they never come.

“I don’t know what to do,” I say. “I don’t know if I should stay. I love Sinclair mansion and the kids, but the air feels stifling. I feel like I’m slowly suffocating.”

“What’s stopping you from leaving?” she asks.

I take a deep breath. I’ve been asking myself that question every day lately.

“Do you still hope that things can go back to the way they used to be?” she asks.

Tears rush to my eyes.

Even after hearing the hurtful things he said, I still miss him. I can’t help it.

“If something’s meant for you, no force in this universe can keep it away from you,” she says. “Even if you turn your back on it, it will come back to you.”

Maybe that’s what I should do. Instead of letting myself go through heartbreak over and over again, I should walk away.

I wished on every star for him.

But that’s all over now.

I should learn to accept that even though it was the happiest I felt in a long time, it just wasn’t in the stars.

I wait until everyone falls asleep.

When the clock strikes midnight, I step outside my room.

I walk to the room opposite mine and try to gather the courage to knock.I rehearsed the moment a hundred times in my head, but now that I’m actually here, I can’t get myself to do it.

I lift my hand.

“I know you’re out there,” he calls out. “Please go back to your room.”

I should say something, but the words don’t leave my lips. He sounds bored, like I’m nothing more than a nuisance in his life.

I hear heavy footsteps crossing the room. I remain frozen as the door swings open.

“It’s you,” he says.

There’s surprise and disappointment in his eyes.

“Who did you think it was?” I ask, blinking at him.

“What do you want?” he asks.

“I needed to speak with you about something,” I say.

He crosses his arms and leans his shoulder against the doorframe. I don’t think he’s aware of how devastatingly handsome he looks right now. His eyes are blank, devoid of emotion as they assess me.

He raises his eyebrows.

I lower my eyes.

“I think it’s time for me to leave,” I say.

“Why?” he asks.

I look up at him. “For obvious reasons.”

“I want to hear them,” he says.

He can’t be serious right now.

My eyes drift over his shoulder. His room is in a state of disarray. The blankets are all messed up, like he’s been tossing and turning in his sleep. Empty wine bottles litter his desk, and there’s clutter everywhere. I’ve never seen his room like this before.

I’ve never seen him like this, either.

There are hollows under his cheekbones, like he’s too heartbroken to eat. I berate myself for even having that thought.

This man doesn’t care about me. He never did, no matter how much I want to believe otherwise.

“I don’t have it in me to explain,” I say truthfully. “I just can’t keep working here anymore.”

“You signed a contract,” he says.

“I don’t care about the fucking contract right now, Klaus,” I snap. “I’m losing my mind here.”

His eyes flare with anger, but it lasts only a fraction of a second.

“I can’t allow you to leave the premises,” he says, his voice calm like we’re making a business deal. “It’s not just about the contract. It’s about your safety.”

A hollow laugh escapes me. “What, the stalker? I’ve been dealing with him for most of my adult life. I’m pretty sure I can deal with him now.”

It takes everything in me to leave the rest of my thoughts unsaid.

My stalker did terrible things, but the way Klaus hurt me was so much worse.

“Is that all?” he asks, about to shut the door in my face.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” I ask, placing my palm against the door. “What makes you think that you have a right to dictate other people’s choices for them?”

“Because you don’t understand the gravity of the situation,” he says.

“And you think your judgment is any better?” I ask.

He doesn’t say anything. There’s nothing in his eyes. He’s reverted to being the cold, asshole boss I used to know.

“Once we catch the stalker, I’ll let you leave,” he says. “Is that okay?”

I prefer his wrath. I prefer some emotion. Anything other than this polite diplomacy.

His phone starts ringing, breaking the tension between us. He takes the call, keeping his dark eyes fixed on me as he listens.

“I’ll be there in ten minutes,” he says over the phone.

I step aside as he walks into the corridor. Thedoor slams shut behind him, the sound reverberating in my ears.

Without another glance back at me, he’s gone.