“You want to continue our conversation?” He pushes on, regardless of my “go away” posture. Lays his hand casually on my bent knee, propping it up at the wrist and rests quite happily there.

“What conversation?” I ask, genuinely confused but stay concealed under my arm, my gut churning like I may not like this.

“You don’t remember?” The surprise in his voice makes me a little wary. I shake my head and the color rises in my cheeks; Jake never presses for no reason.

What the hell did I say to him last night?

“I put you to bed.”

Well, that explains why my cell was off.

He turns his off every night, whereas I normally don’t. Just in case I’m needed.

“Thanks.” I mumble. I want to ask him what I said, but I don’t, because I’m scared. I’m scared I might actually have told him something I didn’t want him to know.

“You talked about your father.” He says matter of factly.

Crap. Like that.

The anger rises in me unexpectedly and it’s too quick to grind back down.

“He’s not my father! … He’s just a donor to my existence, and nothing more.” I snap, jumping to my feet, his hand falling to the couch, surprising him. The heat rises in my chest; teen Emma’s anger renewed with a fury and I’m pissed at myself for her appearance once again. I angrily storm to the kitchenette, I need water and a second to calm down.

And a boss who stops bloody well digging into stuff that has nothing to do with him.

“And Ray?” The question is so precise and unimposing yet has a devastating effect on me. Stomach lurching to my throat, I falter and drop my water bottle hard on my foot, giving out a shocked yell and jump back as pain sears through my toes.

“Are you okay?” He leans around, looking at me. His eyes steady on me as I scramble back but my head reels as I bend down to retrieve the Evian bottle and try to take a deep breath through instant dizziness.

Control Emma … Control.

and more deliberately, letting it

he know

“Fine.” I answer stiffly.

need to talk about this.” He

down. I want to know what I told him about Ray, about my father but I also don’t want to know, don’t want to talk about this. I feel sick, maybe I should tell him I need to throw up and lock myself in my room for an hour, make him leave

you trust me, Emma?” he sounds so hurt, it hurts me

I trust you.” I turn to

could he ask

have to trust him, I do trust

time I’ve admitted to myself that I actually do, and it startles me a little to really

trust Jake! I trust a man! When did that happen?

that I trust playboy Casanova Jake Carrero … my

on me. I shake my head and turn away because I can’t look at him while

don’t need to

it linger.

need to talk about this.” I huff,

expression on his face, the one usually reserved for stubborn clients. He grabs my upper arm gently and pulls me to face him, visually his expression is angry, but his manner is calm. I try to twist free, but he holds me

said he beat you

withdraw from him, shocked that I even let that much out in my drunken stupor. Heart flipping over in my

to know about this. What

me like some sad little victim, incapable of taking

I tell

seems surprised by my reaction and

eyes, I stalk past him. I can’t do this; he has no

you’re my friend.” He follows me, and the anger writhes inside of me once more. Teen Emma raising her ugly head and losing control like she always did,

I snap a little too aggressively and

Shit …

The Novel will be updated daily. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

Comments ()

0/255