Emma's pov
The section was about to start and he had all sorts of weird things to tell me.
We sat inside the room where I had been staying for the night, facing each other.
"So, let's begin.." I opened my notebook. "You said your pr manager and the company wanted you to come for therapy. Is it because you can't keep your anger at bay?"
He sighed, "What do you think?"
I stared at him, with no answer to give, "I don't know, Mr Cross. I just want to be able to get through this section and go to bed."
"Ahh, so your mind ain't here?"
"I don't think anyone's mind would be after the night I just experienced." my voice went low.
"This is crazy. How is a therapist supposed to help me when she is not in the right frame of mind?"
I scoffed, "Did you say you were not here to be fixed? What changed?"
Diaman went quiet and so did I. I was done with these sections. Why was I even here?
"Emma….You need to get some rest maybe we can continue these tomorrow." Damian stood up.
My head went low, disappointed at the fact that I had to be able to do it that way.
"I guess…"
He gave a slight nod and walked to the door.
"Hmmm, Mr Cross." I called out, making him pause by the door, "Sorry but I figured that I hadn't thanked you for being kind to me. I appreciate it."
He looked at me, his eyes were no longer cold and emotionless. I could see a flicker of emotion in them but in a few minutes, it was gone.
"You are welcome. You can stay as long as you like."
"Hmmm, about that."
His eyebrows raised, "Is there a problem?"
"No, I don't think so but I can't stay here. It is inappropriate and I could lose my license."
"So, you are going back to that house?"
I shook my head, "No…I…." I swallowed because I didn't even have a plan.
"You looked…..lost."
"Well, I'm not…" I yelled at him and I looked at myself surprised. "Fuck, I'm sorry. I…I."
"GET SOME SLEEP, EMMA." he walked out of the room without any more words from me.
"Ahhhhrghhh!!!" I yelled loudly, as I ran my fingers through my hair. I looked around.
"I couldn't stay here. It was nice and all but I couldn't stay here. I hated my life and everything that was going on.
"This was the worst thing that has ever happened to me.
"Fuck you, Jessy!" This was all her fault and Ethan's. I hated them so much. I never want to see them again. I lay back on the bed as I cried my eyes out to sleep. This is so fucked up.
How can my best friend sleep with my boyfriend and still not have the balls to accept it?
I cried so much, I had no idea when I fell asleep.
The morning light stabbed at my eyes before I was even ready to wake up.
My head throbbed, the kind of dull, angry ache that came after crying yourself empty. I blinked up at the ceiling for a few seconds, trying to remember where I was.
Then it all came rushing back. I was at Damian's house, the argument, his cold retreat through the door, my stupid, pathetic tears.
I groaned and pulled the blanket over my head. Maybe if I stayed here long enough, the world would forget I existed.
But that wasn't how things worked, was it?
After a few minutes, I dragged myself out of bed.
My clothes were a wrinkled mess from the night before, and my face, God, I didn't even want to see it in the mirror. I had puffy eyes, red nose, mascara stains… perfect look for a therapist who was supposed to help people keep it together.
I washed my face in the small bathroom sink, brushing my teeth with a spare toothbrush that Damian's housekeeper must've left.
Everything in this house screamed money and control, the marble counter, the neatness, the silence.
It was kind of suffocating.
As I stepped back into the room, a knock sounded on the door. I froze for a second, suddenly aware that I wasn't in my house.
"Emma?" His voice came through, low and calm. "You awake?"
I hesitated. "Yeah. You can come in."
The door opened, and he stepped inside wearing a crisp white shirt and dark trousers, sleeves rolled to his elbows. His hair was damp, probably from a shower, and for some reason, that detail made my stomach twist.
He looked at me for a second before speaking. "You didn't come down for breakfast."
"I didn't think I was invited," I said quietly.
A faint smirk appeared. "You're in my house. That's an invitation enough."
I folded my arms. "Well, I didn't want to make things awkward after last night."
He studied me for a long moment, his jaw flexing slightly. "You were right," he said finally.
I frowned. "About what?"
"About me needing help." He took a slow step forward, his gaze unreadable. "You asked if it was because I can't control my anger. You were right. I can't."
That admission caught me off guard. Damian Cross didn't strike me as the kind of man who admitted flaws easily. "Then maybe we should continue the session," I said, trying to sound professional even though my pulse jumped a little at his nearness.
He shook his head. "Not today. You're not in the right frame of mind."
"So what, you can tell me I'm a mess, but you get to shut down whenever you want?" I snapped before I could stop myself.
His lips pressed into a line. "You really like pushing people, don't you?"
"It's my job," I shot back. "Or it was supposed to be, before everything went to hell."
His eyes softened just a little. "You mean Jessy and Ethan?"
The sound of their names made something inside me crack. "Don't say their names," I whispered. "Please."
He nodded once, almost respectfully. "Fair enough."
The silence that followed was thick, but it wasn't entirely uncomfortable. It felt… different.
For a moment, I forgot that he was my client, and I was just a woman standing in front of a man who somehow understood brokenness.