A Game With The Billionaire

Chapter 10:

Emma:

I am in my bedroom, staring at the character sketch for the past ten minutes, I can’t decide if the armour should be black or white and my brain isn’t really there. My head is tangled around the lines of code all afternoon. Right now, I am half proud, half confused about my progress, also I am one second away from throwing my laptop out the window.

I am still glaring at the screen when I hear a voice downstairs.

“Jeremy! Come out wherever you are.” No doubt the voice I am hearing is feminine. I furrow my brows, my eyes flying to the time; it’s nine in the night, who could be looking for Jeremy at this hour? I stand up from my chair and walk downstairs, only to see Charlotte Hilton standing in the center of the living room, with a box in her hand.

“Oh goodness, Emma. Hello.” She smiles so wide, revealing her perfectly white teeth. Her father is Mr. Hilton, the man who won’t invest in my games until I am settled down. She's part of the Hilton triplets, Charlotte, Clara and Chloe. Charlotte is the epitome of beauty, with her long caramel blonde hair and striking gray-blue eyes.

I don’t particularly have fond memories of her. In Chicago, years ago, she had her arm draped over Jeremy while he presented to the whole world the game he had built alone but Charlotte is a sweet person, which makes it incredibly hard to dislike her.

“Charlotte.” My voice is formal, too formal. “What brings you by?”

“I came to see Jeremy.” She has a southern lilt to her accent that makes her tone mellifluous. “I saw the news, you and Jeremy, dating? That makes me so happy, it’s high time his single ass settles down.”

“Yeah, thanks.” I reply curtly. “Anyways, I don’t think Jeremy is back from work yet. What do you have there?” My eyes gesture to the box she’s clutching tightly.

“Ah, this. I got them for Jeremy but since he’s not around, I might as well drop it down.” She says, dropping the box on the table. Good, she’s leaving. “Tell him, I said hi, please?” I catch a whiff of her perfume, I hate that she smells nice, I hate that she’s nice. Charlotte is the type of person who remembers birthdays, who hugs people for real and is always smiling. Except when she is not.

The front door opens and Jeremy walks in. Of all the time he decides to walk in, why now? Can’t he have walked in fifteen minutes later?

“Charlotte?” he freezes when he sees her, and then his whole face lights up like a little kid on Christmas morning.

“Jeremy!” She squeals, running straight into his arms. She hugs him tightly, laughing; he hugs her back, smiling as if he has been waiting for it all week. I stand there, something slow and painful settling in the pit of my stomach, there’s a pang in my chest.

This shouldn’t hurt, I tell myself, it shouldn’t.

But damn it, it does.

“I brought you something.” Charlotte says, dragging his hand and I watch as she gestures at the box. “There are pastries, don’t worry. I know you don’t like strawberries, so I purposefully avoided using them. I baked them myself.”

“Thanks.” He says, of course she knows he doesn’t like strawberries. I tug at the sleeves of my oversized sweatshirt.

“I can’t stay for long. I am meeting my sisters for a game night. Bye Jeremy,” she turns to me with that bright smile. “Bye, Emma.” When the door clicks shut, I breathe sharply.

Jeremy turns toward the table, grinning as he unties the ribbon around the pastry box. “She always brings too much,” he says too fondly.

“She’s nice.” I say, something burning deep in my chest.

Jeremy looks up and his brows furrow in confusion, “What?”

“Nothing.” I say, too fast. My throat is tight, my hands fidgeting at the hem of my sweatshirt. “I’m just saying, Charlotte is too friendly, hugging you like that and baking pastries.”

Jeremy blinks. “Emma,” his voice softens. “Are you....jealous?”

I freeze.

I catch the hope in his voice, as if he wants this to be true.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” I hurriedly say and before I can get another word out, Jeremy’s hands wrap around my wrist pulling me towards him. His grip isn’t harsh, just firm, enough to make my breath hitch.

“Don’t lie to me,” he whispers under his breath. “You can’t stand seeing me with someone else.”

A swell of anger overcomes me, who does he think he is? Thinking I can be jealous after he betrayed me? I want to hit him so hard.

“Let go of me.” I say harshly, even though a tiny part of him doesn’t want him to.

He doesn’t, his hand stays wrapped around my arm, his thumb pressing lightly against my skin. “Why do you keep pushing me away, huh? You act like you can’t stand me, like I am the villain in your story.”

“You’re the villain in my story, Jeremy.” I laugh bitterly, that deep ache resurfacing again. “You think you can walk back into my life with your charming smile and stupid dimples and pretend it didn’t destroy me.”

He flinches, but I don’t care. The words are rushing out now and I can’t seem to stop them, I hate that he brings out this version of me. “I trusted you. I believed you. And you made me a damn idiot.”

His voice breaks slightly. “I tried to explain, Emma. You wouldn’t listen.”

“Because you lie!” I shout so hard, my throat hurts. “You chose her over me!”

“Choose who?” There’s that look of confusion in his golden brown eyes again.

“Charlotte!” I yell.

“I didn’t choose her.” Jeremy softly says.

“Oh really?” I scoff, my pulse pounding so hard, “Then why were you hugging her like she’s the love of your life? Why did you smile at her like she hung the damn moon?”

“So you’re jealous.” He says under his breath.

You know what, I can’t have this conversation with him right now. I storm over to the rack and grab my overall coat, slamming the door harshly even though he continuously calls my name.

Forty-five minutes later, I am in one of the bars downtown, seated on the counter stool with Nicholas, Nicole’s twin brother. He’s the only one that’s free tonight, and so here we are. The bar is half-empty, music playing beneath the noise, we haven’t even been here ten minutes, and I am already having a banging headache.

I adjust on the stool. “Whiskey.” I say to the bartender.

“You don’t even like whiskey.” Nicholas watches me with a calm expression.

“Ah!” Is what I respond with. The bartender brings the glass of whiskey and I down the first shot and wince, letting it burn through the ache.

After a moment, Nicholas says softly. “So are you going to tell me what happened? Or are we going to continue drinking alcohol like our life depends on it?”

I let out a dry laugh. “Jeremy.”

“Ah, my cousin.” Nicholas replies, I know that he and Jeremy have a pretty tight bond, so I don’t want to put him in an uncomfortable situation so instead of pressing further, I drown another glass and motion for the bartender to get me another.

Nicholas types something in his phone and I nod my head, even at this hour, this man is always working. He sets the phone on the counter and turns towards me. “What happened?”

“Nothing, Charlotte came around and they hugged.”

“Hugged?” Nicholas says. “It seems to me that you’re jealous.”

“I am not jealous.” I say, rolling my eyes and he just mutters an ‘hmm’ under his breath.

“I am serious.” I counter back, taking another sip. I am starting to feel drowsy, this doesn’t seem good.

“Emma.” The voice is undoubtedly familiar, my head snaps up and a pair of golden brown eyes is looking down at me.

“What is he doing here?” My voice comes out wobbly.

“I texted him.” Nicholas says, standing up. “You have had too much to drink, Jeremy will take you home. Take care, Emma.” He leans in and presses his thumb against mine, it’s something we used to do when we were little, we used it to tell each other we were safe.

He then turns towards Jeremy and hand slaps him on the back while whispering something that I don’t catch.

When Nicholas leaves, Jeremy places a hand on my shoulder. “I am taking you home.”

I laugh bitterly. “You don’t get to tell me what to do.” I yank away his arm from mine when he reaches for my arm.

“Emma.” He says softly, but there's a hint of frustration simmering beneath his voice. “You’re upset, you’re drinking and you don’t even like bars, you don’t have to prove a point to me like this.”

“I am not proving anything.” I snap.

He sighs and steps closer. “You can hate me all you damn want, Emma. Hell, you can go back to hating me tomorrow morning. But tonight, I am not leaving you and I am taking you home. Let me take you home. Let me take care of you tonight.”

He drapes his jacket over my shoulder, his hand guiding me up. I know I shouldn’t but I accept his help. We walk out of the bar, with him asking me if I am okay so softly that I might burst into tears.

When we get to his car, Jeremy helps me with the seatbelt. When we get home, I sit there while he turns on the bath, he tests the water with his hands, adjusts the temperature and looks at me with gentle eyes. “Go on, it’ll help.”

I don’t argue.

For the first time since that night in Chicago that everything between us fell apart.

I let him.

I let him run the bath.

I let him steady me when I sway.

I let him tuck me into bed, pulling the blanket up to my shoulders like I might break.

His jacket still smells like him, musky and warm. I want to tell him to stay but the words catch in my throat and so, I close my eyes.

Just this once, I tell myself as I drift asleep, I’ll let him take care of me just this once.