Chapter 12: The VIP

The noise was almost unbearable. Ryan, with his cheerful personality and passion for music, was the center of attention. The bar was emptier than usual. The neon lights illuminated the walls, but they couldn't clarify my thoughts. The memories of the dream from that morning swirled in my mind, and I was starting to get used to these nightmares.

—Hey, you're in limbo—Ruth said, gently nudging me—. Tomorrow, when we finish work, I'll take you to an important place—she added, leaning in to speak in my ear while holding a tray. Her closeness sparked a flicker of curiosity in me, but I would have to wait until tomorrow.

—Emma, to the VIP—my boss said with a serious gesture as he turned around.

I headed to the luxurious lounge, hoping to find some calm away from the noise. I opened the door and...

—James?—I exclaimed, surprise and fatigue intertwining in my voice. My heart leaped, caught between uncertainty and an unexpected thrill.

James was reclined in the large armchair, arms stretched around the back and one leg crossed. His posture exuded power and arrogance, and even his charm could be intimidating. When he looked up at me, an enigmatic smile spread across his face.

—Emma, it's fascinating how you keep circling back, and no matter how far you go, you always end up returning to me—he said in a confident voice, laced with provocation.

His words irritated me; his playful tone was the last thing I needed. I took a deep breath, lifting my chin defiantly with renewed determination.

—Enough of the games, James. I'm here to work, not to entertain you—I replied firmly, though my voice trembled. The tension in the air was palpable.

—Well, then prove your skills if they're as good as they say—he said, tapping his chin in a challenging gesture. His eyes sparkled with an intensity that made me question my own control.

—Of course, I'm good. What you see is what you get. At least I don't need an arrogant smile to hide who I am—I said, my tone dripping with disdain, though my hands shook slightly, and my heart raced.

His expression shifted; the mockery morphed into anger. His intense black eyes locked onto mine, as if I had touched a sensitive spot.

—I would watch my tone if I were you. This is your job, and I'm the client. I don't think it benefits you to speak to me like that—he said, adjusting his suit in a way that reflected his contained fury.

—Well, do it, Mr. James. It's the last thing you can take from me, isn't it?—I replied sharply, fatigue and frustration sharpening my voice.

He stood up with determined movements and approached me with his hands in his pockets, his steps resonating with unsettling authority. I swallowed hard, struggling to maintain my composure, determined not to let him intimidate me.

—I think you're mistaken about me, Emma. You don't know who you're talking to—he said, leaning closer to me, his gaze so piercing I felt like I was running out of air. Despite the pressure, I didn't move. I lifted my gaze to meet his, his size imposing and almost overwhelming.

—I clearly don't. You dance around so much that I'm starting to think you're not as terrifying as you seem—I said, clenching my fists, trying to stand firm while a wave of vulnerability and fear mixed inside me.

His eyes filled with fury, and in a quick movement, he pushed me against the wall, his palms pressing against the surface right beside my head. The fear he instilled in me was almost unbearable, and I clenched my hands tighter to withstand the pressure. Having him so close unleashed a storm of conflicting emotions within me.

—I don't think you want to see my terrifying side—he said, his closeness so intense I felt the heat radiating from his body. His eyes glimmered with an internal storm.

—Then show me— I said, lifting my face even more to stare into his eyes, struggling not to reveal my fear, even though inside I felt like I was about to break.

James raised his right hand, and with his index finger, he caressed my face, stopping at my chin and gently lifting it. His touch was electric, and the minty breath he exhaled ignited all my senses.

—Don't play with fire, Miss Ford—he said, his voice a whisper charged with threat and promise. The inner heat I felt was overwhelming.

Suddenly, his expression changed, as if for a moment the mask of control had slipped from him. He quickly withdrew, turning away with calculated elegance, the sound of his steps marking the distance between us. I stood frozen as he turned his back on me, his figure like an impenetrable wall.

I felt a relief mixed with intense frustration, as if I wanted to prolong the moment. My breathing remained rapid, and my fingers ached from the pressure I had exerted to control my nerves.

James kept his back to me and murmured:

—You can leave. There's no need for you to attend to me.

I hurried out of the room. The path felt longer than usual, as if I were traversing a tunnel to another world, far from my reality. I leaned against the wall in the hallway, breathing heavily, my hand pressed to my chest. What was that? What's wrong with you, Emma? How can the danger in his hands make me tremble with both fear and desire at the same time?

—Hey, is something wrong?—Ryan asked, appearing out of nowhere, as if James were my doom and Ryan my salvation.

I simply shook my head, regaining my posture, though my hands and legs still trembled.

—Emma, I want to help you, okay? You're red and clearly nervous; something happened to you—Ryan insisted, gently placing his hand on my shoulder.

—Nothing's wrong, Ryan, thanks for worrying— I said kindly, donning a façade of strength while inside I was falling apart.

Ryan smiled and nodded, turning to go back to his work, and I to mine. I couldn't forget the encounter with James.

James is a storm; Ryan is like the peace within it...