Stalking Emily Saving Emily

The Plan

EMILY

The knock came soft. I moved before I could lose my nerve.

Twenty minutes in that shower building this moment. I'd choreographed it like a scene in my head while the expensive soap did things to my hair that drugstore brands never had.

I let my hair stay down, still damp at the ends. Robe slightly loose at the belt. I wore nothing underneath. A decision I'd made while looking at my own reflection.

I am done being someone else's prop, someone else's punchline, someone else's carefully maintained secret.

Patriarchy had worked for the men who hurt me.

Maybe it's my turn.

I pulled the door open. Flicked my hair back the way I'd practiced and let the robe fall open at the exact right moment. Just enough to seem accidental. My breasts bare beneath, because if you're going to run a plan as desperate as this, you commit to the plan.

The move was perfect. I'd have applauded myself if I wasn't currently performing.

I looked up.

A woman stared back at me. Blonde. Exquisite. Mouth open. Eyes wide.

Her gaze dropped to my bare chest, then back to my face, then down again. In that moment I registered what she was wearing. Classy hairdo. Gold necklace. Also, there was no other word for it, a hooker's outfit. Strappy and aggressively intentional.

The same plan.

The same damn plan.

I let out a full-throated, horror-movie, what the actual hell scream.

She followed with one of her own. Higher pitched and more offended.

I slammed the door so hard the frame shook.

Backed up against the wood, and stood there. My heart absolutely losing its rhythm. My hands pulled the robe closed with shaky fingers and I locked the door then pressed my forehead to the wood.

Oh no.

No no no.

The headlines wrote themselves in my head. Waitress Attempts to Seduce Hotel Owner, Accidentally Prostitutes Herself to Girlfriend. My mother's voice followed immediately in that tone of disappointment I'd been trying to escape since I could remember.

Emily, honestly. Is this who you've become?

I started laughing. Hysterical, breathless laughter against the door. My parents would die. They would actually die. My father would need sedation. My mother would write a petition to lock me up in a mental institute.

I was going to have to move countries.

Another knock.

I stopped laughing.

Dread filled my stomach, cold and heavy. I stepped closer to the door but didn't open it.

The knock came harder. A voice followed.

"Open the door, Emily."

My blood went cold.

He knew my name. Of course he knew my name. He owned the hotel which means he owned the restaurant where I worked. He probably owned the building I lived in and the subway line I took to get there.

I was going to lose this job too, because Leo Ashford was about to fire me into the middle of next week.

I smacked my own forehead. Once. It didn't help but it felt appropriate.

I composed myself. Arranged my features into maximum pitifulness. My eyes wide and chin slightly tucked. The look of someone who had made a terrible mistake and knew it and was very, very sorry.

I opened the door.

Leo stood there, fist raised to knock again. Behind him, the blonde woman hovered with an expression that mirrored his: fury but with a dash of contempt. Like I was a bug she'd found in her salad.

Leo looked like he could commit murder if it were legal. I did not blame him. I hadn't thought. I never thought.

I'd just seen a man with money and control and decided, for once, to be the one taking instead of giving, and I'd done it without considering that other people might have the same idea.

I had looked at a man I'd known for three hours and decided to run a play without checking whether the board was already in use.

Stupid Emily. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

I deployed the eyes. Maximum wattage. The kicked puppy who had learned nothing from being kicked but was very sorry about it anyway.

Leo didn't speak. Just stared.

Then he moved forward.

I stepped back automatically. He kept coming, and we did this dance across the entry

The blonde woman took a step like she meant to follow. He glanced back at her once and kicked the door shut in her face.

I heard her muted gasp of shock on the other side. Then silence.

Leo still didn't speak. He'd stopped advancing, but that didn't matter because I was already backed against the wall and he was right in front of me and there was nowhere to go unless his fury was strong enough to demolish drywall.

I let out a small sound. A squeak. The kind a scolded infant might make.

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

He stared at me for one beat. Two.

Then his face cracked.

His mouth twitched. His shoulders shook. He dropped his head forward and started laughing. Full, unrestrained, bent-over laughter. He laughed so hard he had to brace a hand on the wall beside my head. His forehead nearly touched my shoulder. He laughed like I was the funniest thing he'd ever seen, which, given the circumstances, I supposed I was.

My face heated. Annoyance cut through the fear at being the subject of the joke.

When he finally surfaced, wiping his eyes, he managed, "Tell me. What were you planning to do? Seduce Veronica?"

I turned my face away.

"Because I have to say," he was still almost-laughing, I could hear it, "she didn't seem open to the idea."

"I don't want to talk about it."

"I think I do."

His voice changed sharper. His body shifted closer. One hand braced on either side of me, caging me in.

"I have the faintest feeling," he said, "Veronica wasn't supposed to be your victim."

His finger found my chin. Tilted it up. Made me look at him.

His eyes were dark and knowing and far too attractive for someone currently making me feel three inches tall.

I swallowed.

He was too attractive. It should be a sin.

I'd always been a sucker for pretty boys. That was the problem. That was why Rowan had happened. That was why Dex's face still lived in a corner of my brain I couldn't quite evict. Pretty boys who looked at you like you mattered, and like you were the only person in the room.

Leo Ashford was looking at me like I was a puzzle he couldn't piece together.

But I was done being a sucker.

I reached up. Spread my manicured fingers across his chest. Scrunched the fabric of his shirt and pulled him closer.

Surprise flickered in his eyes briefly. Then his smile widened with a dangerous glint.

Leo Ashford, who wears wealth like second skin, is right in front of me being controlled by my fingers.

The thrill of it shot through me.

He hauled me against him, our bodies slamming together. I could feel the heat from him through the thin robe and the way his chest compressed mine.

The robe had gaped again and I saw him register that there was nothing underneath. I felt him harden against my thigh.

I didn't cower, instead I looked into his eyes. Then shifted my gaze to the mouth that had just laughed at me.

The man who'd brought me to his room and given me his jacket, who was now pressed against me in a hotel room while a woman in a hooker's outfit cooled her heels in the hallway.

Opportunity comes but once.

I leaned in. Put my mouth near his ear and whispered sultrily.

"I was waiting for you."

He took in a sharp breath at my words and pulled back just far enough to look at me. His hand came up, brushing the loose curls from my face gently.

"Is that so."

His thumb traced my jaw slowly.

"I'm here now, Emily," he said.

And I understood, in that moment, that whatever plan I'd been running had just become something else entirely.