Page 28 of Take It Offline

I hold back a scoff, and an uneasy silence descends for another block.

Roberts couldn’t have known what he was getting by pitting us against each other, but I’m starting to wonder if it’s more pain than it’s worth.

It takes a solid minute before I realize she’s shaking. Son of a bitch. First, I almost hit her with my car (even if it was her own damn fault), and here I am, arguing with her and making it worse.

At the next red light, I reach between the front seats and grab one of the blankets I keep in the back for the dogs. Emma takes it without a word and pulls it around her shoulders.

Every few minutes, she gives me a new direction, and the closer we get, the more curious I am to see where she lives. It’s not every day I play chauffeur to an heiress.

It’s not until I’ve parked that I realize where we are. Dormside is a nickname for the part of town where just about every college kid I knew—including Reese and me—bunked for cheap when we first moved here.

Why the hell would she direct me here? To play a sick joke at my expense?

Anger has my heart pounding like a vicious drummer. Emma might be cold, but I never took her for cruel.

Then again, I’ve been wrong before.

“You can’t live here,” I say, each word jagged and harsh. How does someone like Emma Conway even know this dump exists?

“Screw you,” she hisses, then she’s unlocking her door and climbing out. “Thanks for the ride.”

Polite to a fault. I almost laugh. She’s barely three steps away before I’m out and following her. As I catch up, she stops, turning on her heel.

Brows pinched, she glares at me. “What are you doing?”

“Proving something.” Like the fact that she’s a damn liar.

She lifts her chin. “I’ve got nothing to prove to you.”

I step closer. “Look. I don’t know who told you about this place”—or that I used to live here, andfuck,who at work would even know that?—“but I know this neighborhood, and if you really do live here, like you say, then I’ll feel a hell of a lot better walking you to your door.” Shoving my hands into my jeans, I step closer. “Now, are you going to let me be a gentleman, or should I drive you to your actual apartment?”

There’s that murderous look again. Many people have leveled that at me, none of them half as stunning as she is.

Shit, she’s gonna give me some kind of hate kink, isn’t she?

“Fine.”

She stalks ahead so fast I have to jog to catch up.

Everywhere I look, I’m hit with nostalgia. It’s been years, but I can still point out the pipe the super bent when he parked his truck too close and the water damage spot that looks like a two-headed llama on the ceiling. The hallway still smells like smoke, and I would bet money that the fire alarms don’t work.

“Christ, this place hasn’t changed a bit.”

We stop at a door on the first floor, and that twisting in my stomach has turned to dread. She’s so damn close to the stairwell. It’d be easy for someone to break in.

Then Emma slides her key smoothy into the lock and opens the door.

Holy shit.

“Well?” she says, still looking angry and beautiful. “Get inside. I’m not doing this in the hall.”

I step over the threshold, my heart thundering in my chest. “I bet you say that to all your dates.”

None of this makes sense, and not in the sexy, mysterious way I’ve come to associate with her. No, the apartment is cramped and dark, transporting me to a time in my life I’ve worked for years to move past. A place I never would have pictured her in a million years.

I rub the back of my neck, scrambling to connect this place with the Emma I thought I knew.

“Are you happy now? Have I passed your test?”

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