Chapter 2 His Fiancée
1083 Words
More cars started to pull up, forming a tight circle around her.
That was when Emma realized she was surrounded by a convoy of luxury vehicles. A group of entitled rich boys gathered around, smirking.
Standing in the center was the first guy who stopped. His silver hair gleamed under the sun, and his features were sharp, almost perfect—if not for the greed and cockiness in his eyes, which ruined his looks completely.
"Well, well. Fancy running into you again, sweetheart." He sneered.
Emma's glare could've burned through him. "Brandon, you did that on purpose, didn't you?"
"On purpose? No way. I just wanted to get a little closer to you, my friend," Brandon replied, over-emphasizing the word as he threw up his hands in mock innocence. "But it seems like you're not in the best mood. Guess I'll have to move up that little repayment deadline..."
Emma wanted to snap, but the mention of debt kept her quiet. She gritted her teeth, taking a slow breath. Then, swallowing her pride, she forced a smile, though it barely touched her lips as she gestured to the scratch on his car.
"Okay, it was my fault. What's the damage? Name your price."
If this had been anyone else, Emma would've argued her case until they backed down. But this was Brandon.
Brandon, the guy they owed a lot of money to. He was nasty and vicious, and ever since the day they signed that six-million loan, he'd been on their case. He couldn't stand Matthew and took every opportunity to rub it in their faces.
That day, when they'd signed the contract, Brandon had pretended to be so friendly, calling them his "friends" over and over, but the smug look on his face said it all. The insults? They never stopped.
And here he was, at it again.
Emma had her suspicions that this whole situation had been a setup from the start, but without proof, all she could do was bite her tongue and deal with it.
"Good girl," Brandon mocked, circling her slowly, looking her up and down. He clicked his tongue and grinned. "Honestly, the most valuable thing in this car is you."
Laughter erupted around them. The stares that followed were cold, predatory, making her skin crawl as if they were undressing her with their eyes. Someone even whistled.
"Come on, Brandon! This one? Seriously?"
"He's still heartbroken over that fiancée who ditched him. Dude's standards must be in the gutter now."
"Yeah, she's average at best, but hey, she's got curves. Bet she'd look decent enough without clothes."
Emma didn't give them a single glance. Her cold stare stayed fixed on Brandon, lips twitching into a thin, humorless smile. "So, what now?"
She clenched her fists behind her back, quickly running through Matthew's self-defense lessons in her head.
If all Brandon was here for was to throw cheap shots, she could let it slide. But if he tried anything else, she'd make sure he regretted it.
Brandon's eyes lingered on her for a moment longer, and then he casually adjusted his collar, like he was trying to make a point.
Emma's attention flicked to something around his neck. A simple silver necklace, not flashy, but the pendant—a tiny dagger—had two letters carved into it.
E and M.
It was the necklace she had given Matthew.
Her stomach dropped, and her fists loosened. "Why... why do you have that? Where's Matthew? What did you do to him?"
"You want to know?" Brandon raised an eyebrow, his hand reaching for her waist. "How about you spend a night with me, and I'll tell you."
Emma clenched her jaw, forcing herself to stand still. She didn't flinch as his fingers brushed her side, but before he could go any further, the screech of tires cut through the air. A car, even more expensive and flashy than the others, skidded to a stop right in front of them with perfect precision.
"Brandon! What's going on here? Weren't we supposed to be racing? How did you all just disappear?"
Every one of the rich boys immediately turned toward the new arrival and greeted in unison, " Matthew!"
Emma stared, her mind unable to process what she heard.
"Matthew?!"
The guy who had just stepped out of the car—she'd know him anywhere. They spent every day together. There was no mistaking him.
But how? He'd texted her that morning, full of excitement after winning three underground fights last night, saying he'd made a thousand bucks. She could almost feel his pride through the screen.
Now, just a few hours later, here he was, driving a luxury car, hanging out with their enemies. And racing? Seriously?
Emma's thoughts were a mess. The tall, handsome man turned and spotted her. He froze for a second and then frowned. "Emma?"
Even through his sunglasses, she could see the deep crease between his brows. His voice was sharp, irritated. "Didn't you just get off your night shift? What are you doing here?"
"Matt..." Emma reached out to grab his arm. "What's going on?"
But before her fingers could touch him, Matthew swatted her hand away like he couldn't stand the thought of her touching him.
The passenger door opened, and a young woman with long red hair and a flowing dress stepped out. She took one look at Emma before linking her arm through Matthew's. "Babe? Who's this?"
Emma stared, disbelief crashing over her like a wave.
Babe? She just called him babe. And Matthew didn't even react. Instead, he pulled the redhead closer, his expression cold as he glanced at Emma.
But Emma knew him. She knew him so well that even in this moment, she could sense his anger, simmering beneath the surface. His eyes flicked over her, up and down, his lips pressed into a hard line.
'He's trying to figure out what to say, how to explain this away.'
'What the hell is happening? Who is Matthew? And what's going on here?' Emma's mind was spinning, confusion and fury building up inside her until it was about to break free.
The whole scene fell silent, except for the quiet whispers coming from a few feet away. But Emma's hearing was sharp, and she caught every word.
"Emma! That's her!"
"Wait, what? Who's Emma?"
"Don't you remember? Matthew made a bet at the bar—said he'd get her in bed within three months. Guess he wasn't kidding."
- Writer
