Excuse Me, Coming Through

Emma Hart awaited Damien Sterling, holding her breath as if even the slightest exhale could betray her presence. Fortunately, her nights were free of snoring—a habit she was grateful for, lest she feared she might never dare to sleep.

With a mix of resignation and impatience, Emma queried, "Mr. Sterling, what do you need from me?"

Turning to face her, Damien's gaze carried a frosty severity, chilling Emma as though intending to freeze her in place.

Approaching his desk, Damien pulled out a chair, intending to sit. Yet, faced with Emma's repeated inquiry, "Mr. Sterling, what exactly do you want?" he paused, his movements deliberately slow. Her impatience seemed to prompt him to reduce his pace even further, leisurely opening the chair and taking his seat.

Resting his arms on the desk, Damien gradually lifted his gaze to meet Emma's. "Is there something urgent? Running off to some other man, perhaps?"