Page 269 of Billionaire Temptations

“UGH!” I screamed as I jumped up from the couch. What was this I was feeling? I needed to get a grip and get hold of myself. What did I do to make him behave like that towards me? The words my mother told me kept playing over and over like a broken record. “We Wade women do not let others, especially men, control or wreak havoc on our emotional state.”

And that was exactly what I was doing. I was letting him wreak havoc on my emotional state, something I had never let happen before, and I didn’t know how to stop it. I climbed into bed around ten p.m. with my laptop and tried to distract myself from how I felt by going over today’s sales from the shop.

“Emily, it’s me. Open up!” Jackson pounded on the door.

Jumping out of bed for fear that my neighbors would call the police, I opened the door.

“Are you crazy? Do you want someone to call the cops?”

“May I come in?”

“No.”

“Then I’ll just stand here in the hallway until you talk to me.”

“Jackson.” I sighed. “I’m too tired to deal with this right now.”

“Why are your eyes all puffy and red? Have you been crying?”

“No.”

“Come on, Emily. Just let me in, and we can talk about tonight.”

“There’s nothing to talk about. Remember? You don’t know what to say?”

He closed his eyes as he pursed his lips.

“I was angry with you today.”

“For what?”

“If you let me inside, I’ll explain.”

“Fine.” I waved my hand.

He stepped through the door with his hands tucked tightly in his pants pockets and followed me into the living area.

“Tell me what I did that made you angry? Because I haven’t got a clue.”

“Who was that guy you were with earlier?”

“What guy?” I furrowed my brows.

“The one in your shop. I stopped by earlier this afternoon because I wanted to see the espresso bar, and when I walked in, I saw you hugging him, and to top it off, he was running his finger up and down your arm, and you seemed to be enjoying it.”

“You mean Jake?” I cocked my head.

“Is that his name?” He narrowed his eye at me, and I didn’t appreciate his tone.

“Jake happens to be a friend of mine. We went to Parsons together and then he dropped out and moved to Italy to study fashion. He just moved back to New York and heard I opened a shop, and he came to see me. Oh, and if you must know, he’s gay!” I shouted.

He stood there, looking down, hands still tucked inside his pockets.

“I’m sorry,” he softly spoke, knowing he fucked up big time.

“You’re sorry for what?” I asked in a commanding tone. “Sorry that you jumped to conclusions? Sorry that you didn’t bother to come see me while you were standing in my shopstaring at us? Sorry that you canceled our date for no fucking reason at all?!!” I shouted. “You, Jackson, broke rule number seven about open communication and honesty!”

He lifted his head, and his eyes met mine.

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