Entangled Heart: A Rival's Redemption

Chapter 2: Unwanted Distance.

Emma With my hand twisting the keys, I fixed my gaze on the door of my flat. I briefly stood there attempting to let the familiar noises relax me while listening to the gentle buzz of the metropolis outside my window. But no white noise could cover the echo of Liam Worthington's voice in my head. You will be working with me. straight forward. The hubris. His outright conceit. I pushed the door open and crossed the threshold, dropping my bag onto the closest chair as my heels sank into the plush carpet. He wouldn't make things simple, so I knew, but to be forced back into his world felt like some nasty cosmic joke. I rubbed my temples while slanted on the kitchen counter. Now turning back was not possible. Whether or not I enjoyed it, I was in it and would have to deal with Liam every day if I wanted to clinch this business. I could deal with it though. I must. Pulling a bottle of water from the refrigerator, I drank it and allowed my head stray. What did that say about me, that the idea of working with Liam shook me more than the scope of this project? I had worked with demanding customers before; indeed, I had flourished under duress. But something about Liam, the way he regarded me as though he could see right through me, tore at my confidence. Not something, no. It had everything. The background. The challenge. The turn-about. My phone pulled me from my ideas by buzzing on the counter. I looked at the screen: a note from my best friend and personal sounding board for all things Liam-related. Jenna: How then was the Mr. Hotshot reunion? Want me to bring wine? We could vent together. I could not help but grin. Even in half-joking, Jenna always understood how to lighten the situation. Me: You know I could always use wine, but right now it's not quite six o'clock. Give me one minute to consider. Her answer came right away. Jenna: You stalling is bad. Share all with me! I moaned, dropped the phone, and shook my head. Not sure where to start either. I felt as soon as I entered Liam's office as though I had entered some other universe in which the past was clawing back to the present. But telling Jenna would take more than a few text messages. Rather, I inhaled deeply and wrote back: Me: I will call you later. It's confusing. Though I could virtually hear Jenna's annoyed sigh over the phone, I needed time to gather myself. Before I could talk about Liam, I had to clear too much from my brain. I required a scheme. I moved to the window and let my eyes sweep over the city lights below. Funny, in a twisted sort of sense. I had fantasized for years about standing across from Liam once more and facing him at last for what he did. Like some sort of combat speech, I had repeatedly gone over the phrases in my thoughts. But today was not at all what I had anticipated. Neither verbal takedown nor righteous wrath had existed. Rather, I had felt something far more disturbing: the same draw I had experienced all those years ago, the one that had brought me to him prior to everything having gone south. I shook my head, driving out the idea. That was old history; I was not going to uncover it once more. I didn't need a complication like Liam Worthington, and whatever had before stood between us was dead and buried. --------------------— I arrived in the Worthington Industries office fresh resolved the next morning. Riding the elevator to the top floor, the same knot of anxiety knotted in my gut, but I resisted allowing it to control me. I had work to do and I wasn't going to let Liam—or my emotions—trip me. The doors opened and I saw him right away—already sat at the large glass conference table—a folder open in front of him. His whole attention was on the document he was reading, so he looked not where I entered. I seized the chance to watch him, my eye following the sharp lines of his jaw and the way his dark hair reflected the light coming through the windows. Still, he exuded that same easy confidence—the type that made you feel as though he was constantly two steps ahead. It annoyed me then as well as it does today. But there was something else about him—something in the way his forehead wrinkled slightly as he read and his shoulders seemed tenser. Not that it made any difference. I came here to work, not to examine Liam Worthington's attitude. I started to cough, and his head sprang up to meet mine. There was something unreadable in his countenance for a split second—surprise, maybe—before his customary calm detachment took front stage. Emma, he said, reclining in his chair. "You arrived early." "Professionalism," I murmured, flashing him a forced smile as I settled across from him. I thought I would set the tone. Liam's mouth curved in that maddening smile. "Wow. But don't assume that will mean I treat you lightly. I ar eyebrows. One would not dream of it. He leaned forward to examine me, hands clasped together. "Good" Let us then get right on. We reviewed the project specifics over the following hour, talking about everything from market studies to anticipated income sources. Though I was not unfamiliar with difficult tasks, it was a lot to absorb. The way Liam seemed to fall naturally into the position of mentor, pointing out weaknesses in my approach and offering changes with a degree of disdain that made my blood boil, made it difficult. Not the task itself. He leaned over the table once, pointing to a figure on the spreadsheet in front of us and close enough for me to feel his body heat next to mine. "See this," he remarked, speaking softly. "This figure is much too positive. You are overstretching the demand in the European market. You have to account for the aftermath from Brexit. I tightened my mouth to fight the want to snap at him. Though his phrasing, as if I were the newbie and he were the expert, made me want to toss my coffee at him, he was not wrong. "I am aware of that," I responded with a neutral tone. "I'm working on tweaking the forecasts." Liam ar eyebrows, obviously delighted by my forbearance. Definitely you are. I stare at him, but he just leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest to observe me with his maddeningly calm face. I detested his seeming enjoyment of it as well as his easy ability to irritate me. Above all, though, I detested that part of me still yearned to impress him. --------------------— I was psychologically tired by the time the conference finished. Numbers and forecasts whirled in my head, but more than that, the relentless pressure from Liam sapped me. Every conversation I had with him felt like a struggle, and I was bored with battling. Liam got up and stretched his arms above his head in a way that caught my eye while I was getting ready. His shoulders seemed big. I turned aside fast, concentrating on my laptop and pushed it inside my bag. "Well, I think that went well," he remarked, his voice arrogant. I turned sideways to peek at him. Define "well." Laughing, he moved around the table to be next to me. " Emma, you held your own. I'm rather impressed. Surprised, I turned to look at him. Was that...a compliments? I stood up and threw my bag over my shoulder, warning them not to grow used to it. "This is only the starting point." Liam grinned, a languid, almost predatory look that made me shudder down my back. "I wouldn’t have it any other way." His voice halted me in my tracks as I turned to get out. "Emma." Stopped, I looked over my shoulder. "What?," Now his look was austere, all traces of humor absent. "You know this isn't just about the project, right?” My heart st missed a beat. "What do you mean??" Liam's eyes darkened and he never turned away from me. You definitely know what I mean. I swallowed hard, my throat dry right away. I knew nothing to say or how to react to the meaning in his remarks. I thus performed the only action I could. I spun and headed out the door.