Page 11 of Hate the One You're With
“You haven’t changed,” I say, unable to keep the edge out of my voice. It’s part frustration, part something else I don’t want to name.
She studies me, then glances down at herself. After a quick assessment, she shakes her head as if disagreeing with me and looks up with those beautiful green eyes that used to hypnotize me—but not this time. “I’d like to think I’m a differentperson.” She pauses, looking at her hands and smiling softly before turning her attention back to me. “You, on the other hand, haven’t changed at all. Still brooding. Still impossible.”
“Still infuriating,” I counter, but there’s something else in my tone—a spark, maybe even a dare.
She steps closer, the scent of her perfume—something crisp yet undeniably feminine—teasing my senses. It’s a scent that reminds me of those nights when I’d hold her while she slept, feeling like the luckiest man alive. But now, I can’t help but wonder if someone else has taken my place in those moments, someone else who gets to breathe in that scent and feel her warmth.
“So, are you going to make me stand here all day, or can I take a seat?” she asks, arching an eyebrow as she glances around the room, her gaze finally settling back on me. She shifts her weight slightly, the movement subtle.
I let out a loud breath, motioning for her to sit. “We’ll talk,” I say, feeling the tension between us twist into something almost tangible. “But don’t expect me to make this easy.”
Her smile widens, just a fraction, but enough to make my heart skip. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Why the divorce papers?” I ask, cutting straight to the point.
“What happened to listening to me first?” she counters, one eyebrow arching in challenge.
“Nah, I want answers and if I let you talk, you’ll just avoid responding to them,” I reply, leaning back slightly, trying to mask the curiosity bubbling beneath my stern exterior. “Why did you send them over only to backtrack now?”
“Gertrude died, and I thought it’d be safe,” she says, her voice softening.
That old hag might be dead, but nothing is ever safe when it comes to her. Nothing. I wonder what she did this time. I’m not surprised one bit that she’s somehow involved in whatever new scheme Emmersyn is running. Though I could stop her right now and shove her out the door, I want to at least understand why I have to be involved in the latest plot.
“But it’s not?” I press, catching the subtle unease in her tone.
She shakes her head, pressing her lips together. I can practically see the gears turning in her mind, working overtime. I’m impressed she’s not talking faster or trying to throw me off by speaking in circles without making any sense.
Is there another clause or condition that ties her to another gullible fool? She could always find someone new. Was there someone new, and now . . . “Explain.”
Emmersyn reaches into her purse, pulling out a manila envelope and a sleek, elegant one adorned with delicate embossing. The contrast between the two is striking—one official and cold, the other almost tauntingly refined.
I take both envelopes. I start with the more official one. It’s the will of Gertrude Langley, who apparently still owned the media empire—the one Emmersyn has cared for more than anything else in the world. Em would do anything for it—including sacrificing her life and surrendering anything. This woman hasn’t changed one bit.
When I finish reading it, I open the letter. Gertrude is playing with her granddaughter again, convincing her that what she’s asking is for her own good. And, of course, she’sdragging me into this fucking charade. Gertrude Langley thinks everyone around her is a puppet she can play with until she gets bored and destroys them.
She obviously believes she’ll have the last laugh, but this time, I’m not going to be part of her game. Never again. As I finish reading her letter, a laugh escapes me. “She’s still fucking with you, huh?” I shake my head in disbelief.
“As usual,” Emmersyn confirms, giving me a sad smile.
“Sorry for your loss,” I say honestly, because even when they drove each other crazy, I know how much she loved her, and Trudy Langley was the only family she had left.
My heart breaks a little, knowing that Em has no one left. That was one of her greatest fears—that one day, the only person who loved her would be gone, and no one would care what happened to her. And if I could, I’d help her, but I have to remember that Emmersyn Langley is poison, pure destruction, and chaos wrapped in a beautiful package.
I need to escape her grasp before she traps me and tears me apart like she did last time. Never again. I have to get away from the swirling tornado that is the Langley women.
“Listen, my lawyer is looking into the documents you sent—” I tap my chest a couple of times, trying to find the strength to reject her. “I think it’s best if we part ways. You can figure this out on your own. You’re no longer an impressionable eighteen-year-old.”
“I already tried,” she says, her voice tinged with desperation, a sadness that tugs at something in me I’d rather ignore.
“You’re not going to manipulate me into this,” I reply, my voice firm as I glance pointedly at the door. “Leave.”
She stares at me as if she can’t believe I’m really going toshut her out. Those eyes plead with me to listen, to not turn her away. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s how to survive and escape the most dangerous situations. And Emmersyn Langley is the most dangerous thing in my world. She could destroy me with her words, with her mouth, with a single look . . . and I’m not going to let her.
Chapter Seven
Emmersyn
“Leave,”he says with finality, his voice like a blade that threatens to slice through me. A punch so strong that will push me into the abyss and leave me stranded in the dark.
