Chapter seventeen
1606 Words
The afternoon sun bled through the tall trees scattered around the university courtyard, warm light catching in Emma’s hair like liquid gold. She tucked her notebook into her bag, a soft sigh slipping past her lips. The day had been long, and her head was still full of numbers, files, and flashes of him—Lucian Sinclair.
She hated how easily his name lingered in her thoughts.
The way his voice could still echo in her chest, low and restrained.
The way the air between them had burned in that elevator.
She adjusted the strap of her tote and began walking, weaving through the thinning crowd of students. Just a few more steps to the gate. Then she could go home. Pretend her heart wasn’t at war with itself.
“Emma.”
Her pulse stuttered.
The voice was too familiar—soft, low, and laced with something unspoken.
She turned.
Jason stood a few feet away, hands shoved in his pockets, the late sunlight glinting off the edge of his smile. The same smile that used to make her laugh. Now, it just twisted something deep in her stomach.
“Hey,” she said carefully. “I didn’t see you there.”
“Yeah,” he said, stepping closer. “You’ve been kinda busy lately. Hard to catch you anywhere.”
She forced a polite smile. “Work’s been… hectic.”
His gaze flicked over her face—sharp, searching. “You mean your internship? At Sinclair Enterprises?”
The way he said it made her uneasy.
“Yes,” she said slowly. “Why?”
He shrugged, but his tone didn’t match his easy posture. “No reason. Just… we used to talk. You used to tell me things. Now it’s like I don’t exist anymore.”
Her fingers tightened on her bag strap. “I’ve just been focused, that’s all. It’s nothing personal.”
“Nothing personal?” His voice softened, but the curve of his lips hardened. “Emma, you vanish for weeks, ignore my texts, and then you say it’s nothing personal? You know how that sounds, right?”
She bit the inside of her cheek. “Jason, I didn’t mean to—”
He took a step closer, close enough for her to catch the faint scent of his cologne — once comforting, now cloying. “Do you know how that made me feel?” he asked, quieter now, the tenderness edged with reproach. “I thought we had something real. You don’t just throw that away because you’re… what, busy?”
“I’m not throwing anything away,” she said, trying to keep her tone steady. “We were never—”
He cut her off with a laugh that didn’t reach his eyes. “Right. We ‘were never anything.’ That’s convenient, isn’t it?”
Her throat ached. “Jason, please—”
“I stayed up every night wondering if I said something wrong,” he continued, voice slipping between wounded and sharp. “I defended you when people said you were cold. I told them you were just shy. But maybe they were right.”
Emma flinched, the words slicing through her composure. “That’s not fair.”
“Fair?” His smile tightened. “I cared about you, Emma. I still do. But it’s hard when you treat me like a stranger.”
She swallowed hard, the ache rising in her chest. “I’m sorry if I made you feel that way. But I can’t give you what you want, Jason. I’m just… not in that place anymore.”
He looked at her for a long time. The hurt in his eyes slowly morphed into something else—smooth, practiced, unsettling.
“Okay,” he said softly. “I get it. You’re focused on your career. On your fancy new job.” He took a small step back, his voice almost teasing. “Just don’t forget who was there before all that. People change fast when they meet men like Sinclair.”
Her stomach dropped. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Jason’s smile widened, empty and knowing. “Nothing. Just saying—he’s not the type of man who plays nice for long.”
Before she could answer, he turned and walked away, his words lingering like smoke.
Emma stood frozen, her heart thudding painfully against her ribs. The chatter and laughter around her blurred into meaningless noise.
By the time she reached the gate, her palms were damp, her breath uneven.
She didn’t know what scared her more — Jason’s sudden change in tone, or the small, traitorous voice in her head whispering that he wasn’t entirely wrong about Lucian Sinclair.
Her fingers fumbled through her bag until she found her phone. She hesitated for half a second, then tapped Alexa’s name.
The call connected after two rings.
“Hey, you alive?” Alexa’s voice came bright, teasing, alive. “I thought school had swallowed you whole.”
Emma tried to laugh, but it came out brittle. “Can you meet me? Like… now?”
Something in her tone must have cut through the joke, because Alexa’s voice shifted immediately. “Where?”
“The café near campus. The one with the awful green chairs.”
“I’m on my way.”
Alexa arrived ten minutes later, oversized hoodie, messy bun, and denim shorts, sunglasses perched on her head. She spotted Emma instantly and slid into the seat opposite her.
“You look like someone just ran over your peace of mind,” Alexa said, raising a brow. “What happened?”
Emma’s lips curved weakly. “Jason.”
Alexa groaned, dragging her palms down her face. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“I wish I was.” Emma’s sigh trembled slightly. “He showed up on campus. Said I’ve been ignoring him. That I’ve changed.”
Alexa’s brows shot up. “You have changed. It’s called growth.”
Emma smiled faintly but the tension didn’t ease. “He made me feel like I was the bad one. Like I just threw him away without reason.”
Alexa stirred her iced coffee with a straw, expression sharp. “Classic manipulation. He’s guilt-tripping you because you stopped orbiting around his ego.”
“Maybe,” Emma murmured, fingers tracing the rim of her cup. “But he sounded so calm. So normal. And then… it shifted. He mentioned Lucian.”
That made Alexa pause mid-sip. “Lucian Sinclair?”
Emma nodded slowly. “He said people change fast when they meet men like him. That he’s not the type to play nice for long.”
Alexa set her drink down carefully. Her teasing tone softened. “That’s low. He’s trying to scare you.”
“I know,” Emma whispered. “It’s just—hearing his name come out of Jason’s mouth like that… it felt wrong. Like he knew something I didn’t.”
Alexa reached across the table and brushed her cousin’s hand lightly. “Hey. Don’t do that thing where you spiral. Jason’s just bitter. And jealous. You’re doing something for yourself now — he can’t stand that.”
Emma blinked fast, giving a small nod. “You make it sound easy.”
“It’s not,” Alexa said softly. “But you’ve survived worse, Em.”
A weak laugh slipped past Emma’s lips. “When did you get so wise?”
“Somewhere between heartbreak and coffee addiction,” Alexa grinned.
That earned a real smile from Emma.
Lucian stood by the glass wall of his office, the skyline stretching out before him in clean lines of gold and blue. One hand was buried in his pocket; the other held a glass of untouched whiskey that caught the fading light.
He told himself he’d stayed to finish reports. To review contracts. To work.
But his gaze had drifted — again and again — to the faint reflection of a desk across the hall.
Her desk.
Emma’s chair was pushed neatly under the table. Her notebook stacked precisely beside her laptop. A chipped white mug sat next to it — he’d seen her hold it countless times, fingers wrapped around it while she worked through lunch.
He lifted the glass to his lips, but the scotch stayed untouched.
Ever since that night — the elevator — he hadn’t been the same.
He could still feel her there.
The tremor of her breath when he leaned too close.
The soft, startled sound she made when he almost kissed her.
He’d told himself it was a mistake. A lapse. But his mind wouldn’t let it go. Neither would his body.
Now, every time she said Mr. Sinclair in that careful voice, every time she brushed past him in the hallway, it took everything in him not to react.
Lucian’s reflection stared back at him — sharp, composed, distant. But beneath the surface, his control was fracturing.
He hated this.
The loss of command.
The raw, unwanted ache of wanting someone he had no right to want.
His phone buzzed on the desk, but he ignored it. Instead, his gaze flicked once more toward her empty workspace.
He could still see it — her wide eyes, the way her pulse had fluttered when he touched her. The way she whispered his name, barely a sound, like it meant something.
He closed his eyes, jaw tight. “Get it together,” he muttered under his breath.
But when he looked up again, the city lights blurred into streaks of color — and in the reflection of the glass, all he could see was her.
- Writer
