Page 10 of Hate the One You're With
“This is a private matter that I’d prefer we handle away from prying ears,” she interrupts, her voice edged with caution. “If anyone recognizes me and finds out?—”
“So you’re in trouble?” I cut in, my suspicion flaring.
“Not necessarily. It’s something that can be fixed within the next week,” she replies, her tone carefully measured. “Well, and with a six-month sacrifice.”
“Why are you being so fucking cryptic?” I snap, my patience fraying.
“Moderate your tone,” she counters, her voice firm.
“You’re so fucking infuriating,” I growl, barely holding back my frustration.
“Yeah, yeah, but this is for the greater good,” she says, brushing off my anger like it’s nothing. “Why don’t I book us a room at the?—”
“No, I’ll send my driver to where you are. He’ll bring you to me,” I insist, cutting her off before she can suggest something ridiculous.
“There’s no need to?—”
“Emmersyn, you do as I say, or I won’t even listen to you,” I warn, my voice low and threatening.
“Fine. Do you need me to tell you where I am?”
“No need,” I reply, glancing at my phone. Ethan is late with the information, but at least he’s offering to help me. “I just got a text from a friend that your plane has landed. Wait for the driver, and just know that the answer to whatever you came to request is most likely no.”
Chapter Six
Caleb
The doorto the executive apartment swings open, and Ethan steps forward with a polite nod, gesturing for Emmersyn to come in. All the air leaves my lungs the moment I see her. Even though I knew I’d be seeing her, nothing could have prepared me for this. She’s . . . stunning. No, more than stunning—breathtaking. It’s like she’s stepped out of a dream, more beautifulthan I ever remembered.
The last time I saw her, she was nineteen—young, uncertain, but with that same fire in her eyes. Now, as she steps into the room, it’s clear how much she’s changed, how much she’s grown into herself.
Emmersyn Mara Langley is nothing like the girl I agreed to marry so long ago. Now, she’s a striking woman in her early thirties, standing just seven inches shorter than Ethan’s six-foot-four frame. Her dark auburn hair, now styled in polished waves that graze her shoulders, is worlds away from the simpler styles she used to wear. And those eyes—sharp, green, and always assessing—seem even more piercing than I remember.
It’s hard not to notice how time has only made her more captivating. The years have refined her, adding a confident edge to her natural beauty. She’s still the same Em, but with a presence that’s impossible to ignore. It’s disarming, really, how she can walk into a room and command it without saying a word.
And damn if that doesn’t stir something in me, something I’d rather not admit is still there. I don’t want to name it—in fact, I’d prefer to shove it down deep, bury it where it can’t reach me. But there’s something about Emmersyn that’s different now, something provocative that goes beyond her physical beauty. It’s in the way she carries herself, the confidence in her stride, the way her presence fills the room. It’s unsettling, how just being near her brings back feelings I thought I’d buried a long time ago.
She’s not the girl I knew back then—she’s a woman who’s seen the world, who’s carved out a place for herself in it. Andthat stirs something deeper, something that’s been lying dormant, waiting for this very moment to resurface.
Ethan clears his throat, snapping me out of my thoughts. “So . . . your wife is here,” he says, his tone laced with curiosity and a dozen unspoken questions. “What happened to ‘that shit is done and over’?”
“Leave,” I say, trying to keep it polite, even though what I really want to say is, ‘fuck off—I can only handle one crazy, demanding person at a time.’
He scoffs but nods at Emmersyn with a grin. “Nice meeting you,” he says.
“Thank you for bringing me here,” Emmersyn replies, her voice smooth and composed as she steps farther into the apartment, her heels clicking softly against the floor. The confidence in her voice only amplifies the difference between the girl I married and the woman standing before me.
I try to mask the mix of emotions swirling inside me. “Emmersyn,” I greet her, my voice coming out gruffer than I intended.
“Caleb,” she responds, her lips curving into a slight, almost challenging smile. The years might have changed us both, but the chemistry—that electric pull between us—is still very much alive.
When I agreed to marry her, I didn’t think about anything beyond what she was offering. If I’d taken a minute to really consider what I was getting myself into . . . well, things might have turned out differently. We didn’t marry for love. There wasn’t even any physical attraction—at least, that’s what I told myself. It was just convenient at the time. But conveniencescrewed me over in more ways than I care to count. That’s not going to happen again. Not this time.
Why did it screw me over? Because as soon as we were married, I realized the chemistry between us was explosive. We were like two volatile elements, and when combined, we didn’t just ignite—we detonated. Sometimes, the explosion was vibrant and thrilling, like when we kissed. Those kisses . . . they weren’t just sparks. They were all-consuming, the kind that left me breathless and wanting more, even when I knew better. Other times, the explosion was more like a nuclear meltdown, especially when we couldn’t see eye to eye. Our fights? They were legendary, the kind that left destruction in their wake.
Ethan, sensing the charged atmosphere, gives me a nod. “I’ll leave you two to it,” he says, but not before adding with a smirk, “The box of condoms is in the bathroom.”
I flip him the finger, and the asshole leaves with that smug grin on his face. The moment the door clicks shut, it’s just the two of us. Emmersyn holds my gaze, and for a split second, it feels like time rewinds, and I’m standing in front of that nineteen-year-old girl again. But then reality snaps back, and I’m acutely aware of the woman she’s become—the one who’s now challenging me with every breath.
