Page 29 of Tempting the Billionaire
I almost want to text him and ask, but I’m afraid that reaching out to him will do more harm than good. I suppose I’ll just have to wait around and see if that horrid video shows up on my socials. I shudder at the thought.
My mind wanders back to Ezra. What Rachel said was right. Bishop Jewelers won’t suffer from this. Only Ezra. My heart breaks just thinking about it. And it breaks even more knowing about the part I played in all this. Biting back the lump forming in my throat, I vow to stay as much out of his way as possible, get through working here until I can find another job. He deserves better. A life without me in it, reminding him of the terrible things I did.
“Ooooh, Emma,” Rachel calls from the other side of the store. “Come look at these.” She has a delivery package open on the counter, a few smaller boxes scattered about that she’d obviously taken out.
Trying to shake the emotions from my mind, I hurry over to her side. On the counter, each in their own plush velvet box, are a handful of engagement rings. I raise an eyebrow, unsure why this attention is warranted. Our store is filled to the brim with engagement rings.
“These are the new prototype designs from Jason,” Rachel explains, reaching for one of them. She pulls it from the box, sliding it on her finger. She holds it out, tilting her head and observing it. “Ugh, I want an emerald cut so badly. If only I can find a man first.” She giggles.
I glance over the others, and one in particular catches my eye. My heart lurches, remembering the sweet moment in his office that Ezra and I had shared. I reach for the ring, holding it gently. It’s the gold bezel ring I’d picked out. The one I’d said I’d want for myself.
I stare down at it sadly.
I’m about to set it back down on the counter, when another element snags my attention. Not the ring, but the box. I turn it slightly so I can see the top of it. Now that I notice, I see all the ring boxes have some kind of sticker on the front—like something made with a label maker.
My breath catches in my throat when I see what it says.
Emma.
I stare down at it, feeling a tear coming to my eye. He’d named the ring after me.
I snap the box shut, putting it down before Rachel notices my reaction. Hopefully she won’t notice the name, and if she does, mine is a common enough name for it to not raise suspicion. At least I hope so.
Walking away to compose myself, I decide to make an amendment to my earlier vow. If, in the end, Ezra truly wants nothing to do with me, I’ll give it to him. I’ll honor it. But not without at least pleading my case. Not without trying. Because Ezra Bishop is too good a man to give up.
And I’m not giving him up without a fight.
Chapter 16
Emma
I park outside Ezra’s townhouse, sitting in the dark silence for a long moment. The sun has long since set, and I stare up at the lights through his windows. I savor the moment for a few heartbeats. Because after I go in and speak with him, after I bare my soul and see what he says—that’s that. He’ll either forgive me or he won’t.
And this, right now—the hope—might just be the best I’ll ever get.
Because in all honesty, I don’t expect forgiveness. If I were in his situation, I can’t say I’d be so easy to forgive. I truly can’t blame him. And that makes it all the harder.
With one last deep breath, I grab my purse from the passenger seat and hop out of the car. I ring his doorbell, smoothing my hair nervously. I know he has cameras down here. He’ll immediately know it’s me.
Suddenly, it occurs to me that he might not even let me in. But I don’t have much time to dwell on that thought before I hear the familiar buzz of his front door unlocking.
Surprised, because he hadn’t greeted me over the intercom, I hesitantly push the door open and step inside. I glance around the large lobby, realizing I really haven’t explored much of his house. All our time had been spent on his top two floors.
I shift uncomfortably, having no idea where he could be in this enormous townhouse. But then I hear the sound of a door opening and closing, and then, around the corner, strides Ezra.
He’s wearing sweatpants and a dark green t-shirt—and fuck, if he doesn’t somehow look sexier in that than he does in his everyday suits.
He comes to stand before me, silent, farther apart than we’d normally stand. His hands are in his pockets as he surveys me with a look of, not anger as I’d expected, but simple sadness.
“Hi,” I greet quietly, my voice catching on the word.
He offers me a tight-lipped grin that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Hi.”
I shuffle anxiously. “Can we talk?”
He shrugs. “I let you in.”
Right. I nod, adrenaline coursing through me. “I saw the news. About you and your … wife.”
