Page 44 of Pride

“Is it stalking if it’s for your own good?”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

ALEX

She was freezing when I picked her up, and from the way she sat in the car, rigid and on edge, I knew she wasn’t comfortable. But when she burst into tears, my heart fucking broke.

I wanted to stop the car and pull her over the console into my lap and hold her. She was trying to be strong, but I knew she was tired of fighting. I wanted to fight for her. To be there for her. She was so fucking independent, and I liked that, but I wished she’d let me in. Let me take some of the weight that was dragging her down. Every fibre of my being wanted to protect this girl, but I knew she wouldn’t let me.

I leaned forward and turned the heating up to maximum. And as she calmed down, using a tissue to wipe the tears from her eyes, I started to talk.

I wasn’t sure she’d open up, but I had to try.

“What happened today?”

“What do you mean?” she replied a little defensively, her mind clearly on a million other things.

“What happened to make you leave the newspaper? You’ve put up with that guy for four years now. So what happened today to tip you over the edge?”

Her head turned slowly to face me.

“Youarea stalker.”

“What?” I smiled and gave a low chuckle.

“How did you know I’ve worked there for four years?” she questioned, the mistrust evident in her tone.

“Because I did my research and wanted to know a little more about you as a reporter, before I invited you into my home.”

It was a lie.

I had totally stalked her social media, along with any other avenues of information I could find since I’d met her at the gallery opening. I thought she was the most gorgeous woman I’d ever laid eyes on, and wondered why she’d made me feel so nervous. I never got nervous. And I had to know more.

But I wouldn’t tell her that.

It’d make me sound like a creep.

I wasn’t a creep.

At least, I didn’t think I was.

“I suppose that makes sense,” she replied, and I silently congratulated myself on her response. “But if you’ve done your homework, you’ll know I was working as Mr Gold’s assistant until a week ago.”

I did know that, but I wasn’t about to divulge all my secrets.

“Gold isn’t the biggest advocate for equality in the workplace, anyone could tell you that. But graduating at the level you did, with an English Literature degree, I knew you’d know how to write a good, strong story. Not everyone gets a first-class with honours. I didn’t. And before you ask, that fact was listed on the company website too.”

She seemed to relax a little when I said that. I knew I’d hit a nerve, talking about her job, but I hoped I’d also made her feel good about herself, reminding her that she was an educated woman. That she was worthy, despite what Gold might’ve told her.

“I do love writing,” she replied, and I finally felt her body relax a little beside me.

“So you should. Never give up on your dreams, Emma.”

She nodded to herself thoughtfully, and we drove on for a while in silence. And then she broke that silence in a way that totally threw me off-balance, leaving me reeling on how I should respond.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

EMMA