Chapter 6
1240 Words
Travis POV
Some people think being a billionaire means your life is shiny and smooth like a polished marble floor that never cracks.
But most days, it feels more like a tightrope walk, one misstep away from disaster. One wrong deal. One betrayal. One moment of weakness.
I live in a world where pressure is oxygen. Where smiles are practiced. Where every handshake hides a silent threat. I’ve built my empire knowing that love, trust, even comfort those are luxuries. They’re distractions. You want to win? You keep your guard up. You don’t let anyone close enough to pull you down.
At least, that’s how it’s always been.
Until her.
Emma.
She didn’t crash into my world the way some women tried to with noise, perfume, and loud flirtation. No. She walked in quiet. Calm. Focused. The kind of calm that made everything else seem too loud.
From day one, I knew she was different.
And from day one, I avoided her.
Not because I didn’t notice her but because I did.
She wasn’t the kind of assistant I was used to. She didn’t try to impress me. She didn’t care about my last name or my bank account. She was just… Emma.
Bright-eyed, honest, stubborn as hell. She organized my calendar better than anyone ever had. She remembered my coffee preferences down to the temperature. She stayed late when she didn’t have to.
And that day in the boardroom?
I’ll never forget it.
We were pitching to a major client. Old-school finance guys with doubt in their eyes and skepticism in their posture. They didn’t trust my youth. My confidence. They thought I was all flash and no substance.
I started strong, presenting numbers and future projections. But I could see it wasn’t landing. They were already leaning back. Already doubting me.
And then Emma spoke.
She stood up, quiet but sure. She didn’t raise her voice. She didn’t even look at me first. She looked directly at the client and said:
“You might not know Mr. Winthrop yet. But I’ve worked with him closely. I see how he runs this company. He’s hands-on. Detail-oriented. He doesn’t make promises he can’t keep. If he says your investment is safe, it is.”
No hesitation.
Just faith. Steady and bold.
And it worked.
The men leaned forward. Asked more questions. And an hour later, we had the deal.
Afterward, I thanked her with a nod. But I didn’t say what I was really thinking.
You saw me. And I don’t know why that means so much.
Since that day, I haven’t been able to look at her the same way.
And that’s what makes this moment right now even harder.
6:17 p.m.
She was supposed to be back with my tailored suits from the dry cleaner thirty minutes ago. She had left her phone on her desk, which she never does. Emma is many things, but forgetful isn’t one of them.
I tried to brush it off at first. Told myself she got caught in traffic. That maybe she went to grab a coffee on the way back.
But deep down, I knew something felt off.
I stood from my desk and walked to the window. New York was still alive out there. Lights flickering. Taxis honking. People rushing like they were always late to something important.
I ran a hand through my hair and grabbed my coat.
Vanessa spotted me as I walked toward the elevator. She stood up from her desk like she’d been waiting for an excuse.
“Mr. Winthrop,” she purred. “Do you need anything before you head out? I could accompany you..”
“No,” I said, too sharply. “I’ll handle it.”
Her expression shifted, but I didn’t have time for her disappointment. Emma might be in trouble.
The air outside was colder than I expected, and the wind tugged at my coat as I stepped into the street. I scanned the sidewalk. My heart was beating faster than I liked to admit.
I walked a block. Then two. Then I saw her.
Sitting on a bench at the corner, her arms wrapped tightly around herself like she was holding herself together.
My steps quickened without me realizing it.
“Emma,” I said.
She didn’t move at first. Just kept her head bowed, her shoulders trembling.
When I crouched in front of her, she slowly looked up.
And I felt something inside me twist.
Her eyes were red. Her face pale. Not just from the cold but from something else. Fear? Sadness? I couldn’t tell yet.
“I’m fine,” she whispered.
She wasn’t.
Without thinking, I took off my coat and wrapped it around her. “You’re freezing.”
She didn’t argue.
I sat beside her. The bench was damp and cold, but I didn’t care. I just needed to understand what had happened.
“I went to the dry cleaners,” she said quietly. “But I felt weird. Like someone was watching me. I turned around a few times but didn’t see anyone. Still, I couldn’t shake it. And then I couldn’t get a cab, and I just… I didn’t know what to do.”
She swallowed, looking down at her hands. “I felt stupid. So I sat here.”
“You should’ve called,” I said, trying not to sound too harsh, but it came out wrong. Too much concern hidden in the bite.
She gave a small, broken smile. “I left my phone on the desk. Dumb, right?”
I shook my head. “No. Not dumb.”
I took a deep breath. “I’ll take you home.”
She blinked. “But..”
“No buts. You need to rest. I’ll send someone else for the suits.”
She hesitated like she wanted to argue again, but she didn’t. She let me help her up.
She was lighter than I expected. She swayed a little, and I caught her gently.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
I didn’t answer. Not with words.
I just kept my hand on her back as we walked to the car.
The ride to her apartment was quiet. I watched her from the corner of my eye as she stared out the window, her reflection flickering in the glass.
When we reached her building, she paused at the door.
“Thank you,” she said again.
I frowned. “You don’t have to thank me for caring.”
Her eyes met mine, wide and uncertain. And then something flashed behind them pain, maybe. Or something heavier.
“I’ll be okay,” she said.
I nodded, even though I wasn’t sure I believed her.
As she turned the key and opened her door, I stopped her.
“Emma?”
She looked over her shoulder.
“If anything like that ever happens again if you’re scared, or hurt, or even just tired call me. I don’t care what time it is.”
She stared at me for a second, then nodded.
And then the door closed.
But I didn’t walk away right away. I stood there, listening to the silence on the other side. My own chest felt tight.
Because for the first time in years, I wasn’t thinking about the company. Or the numbers. Or my reputation.
I was thinking about her.
And I knew… this wasn’t going to go away.
Something had changed.
Something real.
- Writer
