THE HIDDEN HAND

Chapter 6

“You don’t need to thank me,” Emily said softly. “You risked yourself to get my purse back. I don’t know how I’m supposed to repay you.”

Warmth bloomed quietly in her chest as she looked into his deep, unfathomable eyes.

For a moment, she forgot the coldness of the street, the fear of the robbery, the panic that had seized her when her purse was snatched away. All she could feel was gratitude.

If Richard had not appeared when he did, she truly did not know what she would have done.

Richard watched her in silence.

The light in the apartment fell across his face, softening the sharp lines of his features. Yet somehow, that softness only made him seem more dangerous. His eyes were calm, dark, and unreadable, like a night sea without moonlight.

Then he smiled.

“In that case,” he said, his voice low and smooth, “may I ask for something in return right now?”

Emily’s body tensed at once.

Her fingers tightened slightly around the roll of gauze in her hand.

She was curious, of course.

But she was also wary.

There was something about the way Richard spoke that made the air between them feel thinner, warmer, harder to breathe. It was only a simple sentence, but coming from him, it seemed to carry another meaning beneath the surface.

Richard noticed the change in her immediately.

The corner of his mouth lifted.

Was she truly that frightened?

She sat there trying so hard to remain composed, but every tiny reaction betrayed her—the stiff line of her shoulders, the sudden stillness of her hands, the guarded look in her eyes.

It was almost cruel, how easy she was to read.

And even crueler, perhaps, how much it made him want to push.

To tease.

To corner her little by little until that fragile calm of hers broke apart completely.

But Richard was not impatient.

Not with her.

A frightened bird had to be coaxed into the palm,

Emily drew a quiet breath and forced herself to meet his gaze.

“Mr. Nelson, please say it,” she replied. “If it’s something I can do, I’ll do it.”

She did not like owing people favors.

Her nature was straightforward. If the request was within her ability, she would agree. That was only fair.

Richard studied her for another moment, as though measuring just how far he could go before she retreated.

Then he said, “All right. From now on, don’t call me Mr. Nelson anymore.”

Emily blinked.

He continued, his tone almost casual.

“You can call me Richard.”

Emily stared at him for half a second before quietly letting out a breath of relief.

That was it?

This was the favor he wanted?

Among close friends, calling each other by name was perfectly normal. There was nothing especially strange about it. Still, when the name was Richard, when it belonged to him, it suddenly felt different.

Too personal.

Too intimate.

As if crossing that line would make the distance between them vanish faster than she was prepared for.

After a short pause, Emily nodded.

“All right,” she said. “Then you can call me Emily too.”

Richard’s eyes darkened faintly.

“Emily.”

He said her name with deliberate softness.

Her heart skipped before she could stop it.

It was only her name.

Only three syllables.

Yet in his mouth, it sounded unlike anything ordinary. It sounded like a secret spoken in the dark. Like a promise. Like a warning.

Emily quickly lowered her gaze.

“Let me help you with your hand first.”

She picked up the antiseptic and began tending to the wound.

Her expression became focused at once. Carefully, she cleaned away the blood near the cut, afraid that the slightest force might hurt him. Then she unrolled the gauze and wrapped it around his hand, layer by layer.

Her fingertips brushed his skin.

Once.

Twice.

Each brief contact sent a strange warmth through her, mingled with an ache of worry she could not quite explain.

Richard was a famous idol.

Someone watched by countless fans, followed by cameras, judged beneath harsh lights and louder rumors. His hands, his face, his body—everything about him belonged not only to himself, but to the public eye.

If something happened to him because of her, it would not be a small matter.

If his injury affected his work, if the media found out, if his fans misunderstood…

The consequences would be terrible.

The thought made her even more careful.

“Does it hurt?” she asked softly.

Richard looked at her instead of the wound.

“No.”

It was not entirely a lie.

The cut was shallow. Harmless.

Necessary.

He watched her lowered lashes, the faint crease between her brows, the way guilt and concern made her so gentle with him.

His little injury had been worth it.

More than worth it.

Emily finished tying the gauze and gently pressed the end into place.

“There.” She finally looked up. “Try not to get it wet. And if it swells or becomes inflamed, you should still see a doctor.”

Richard glanced at the white bandage around his hand.

Her wrapping was neat. Careful. Almost tender.

“I’ll listen to you,” he said.

The words were simple, but his voice made Emily’s ears warm.

She looked away at once.

“You should also be more careful. Even if you were helping me, it was still dangerous.”

“Were you worried about me?”

The question came too suddenly.

Emily paused.

Then, after a moment, she answered honestly, “Of course. You were injured because of me.”

Because of her.

Richard’s smile softened.

If only she knew.

Before Emily left, Richard walked her to the door. Just as she was about to say goodbye, he called her name again.

“Emily.”

She turned back.

“Yes?”

“Let’s exchange contact information.”

Emily was stunned.

For a moment, she simply looked at him, unsure whether she had heard correctly.

She had looked through his fandom pages before. It was almost impossible not to know him. Richard Nelson’s name was everywhere—on trending lists, entertainment headlines, magazine covers, fan edits, promotional posters lighting up entire buildings.

His fans were passionate and numerous, enough to push him to the hottest position in the entertainment industry.

People like him did not casually give out private contact information.