chapter 5 - arrival of Emily

Chris Zayden had always been a man of focus. His sharp mind, calculated decisions, and unmatched charm made him a legend in the corporate world. Yet, over the past few weeks, his unwavering concentration had been fractured by something—or rather, someone.

Hema.

She wasn't like the women Chris was used to. Hema was modest, quiet, and radiated a natural grace that didn't demand attention but effortlessly captured it. She wasn't clad in designer gowns or towering heels like the socialites who hovered around him. Her presence was subtle, understated, and completely irresistible.

Chris found himself gravitating towards her every chance he got. Her black kurta—a simple yet elegantly embroidered outfit—floated gracefully as she walked, each movement soft yet deliberate. Her hair, dark and glossy, curled naturally around her face, catching the light and framing her radiant smile. But it wasn't just her beauty that consumed him. It was her energy—the way she laughed with her trainees, the easy warmth she carried wherever she went.

He couldn't stop watching her. Day after day, Chris would position himself to catch glimpses of Hema. He scrutinized every detail, from the silver threads on her kurtas to the way her fingers fidgeted with her dupatta when she was deep in thought. Was it the dress that made her look stunning, or did she make even the simplest attire admirable? The question plagued him, fueling his growing obsession.

Despite his growing fixation, Chris wasn't someone who allowed emotions to cloud his judgment. Yet Hema had unwittingly wormed her way into his thoughts, her image refusing to leave his mind. She haunted him in meetings, distracted him during his morning workouts, and even appeared in his dreams, her curls shimmering as she laughed in that intoxicating way of hers.

Chris was startled out of his reverie one evening when the door to his hotel room flew open. Emily stood in the doorway, her face a mix of relief and irritation. "Chris, where have you been? I've been trying to reach you all day!"

Emily was the kind of woman who commanded attention. Blonde, bold, and unapologetically confident, she was everything Hema was not. Yet, at that moment, Chris felt nothing but irritation at her presence. He wasn't in the mood for her theatrics.

Before he could form a response, Emily crossed the room, closing the distance between them in an instant. "I've missed you," she murmured, her voice sultry as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his.

Chris let her kiss him, his hands instinctively moving to her waist. Her familiar scent and touch should have ignited something in him, but his mind drifted elsewhere. Even as he tugged her closer, undressing her with practiced ease, Hema's image remained vivid in his mind.

Emily, oblivious to his distraction, eagerly led him toward the bathroom. Their bodies collided against the cold tiles, their movements urgent and heated. Chris's hands roamed over Emily's bare skin, but all he could see was Hema. The black kurta. Her radiant smile. The sound of her laugh echoing in his head.

He gripped Emily tighter, his touch growing rougher as frustration bubbled within him. No matter what he did, Hema's image wouldn't fade. He pounded into Emily, his movements harsh and punishing, but it wasn't Emily he wanted. It was Hema. Her soft curves, her quiet modesty, her unspoken allure.

When he finally released, it wasn't Emily's name on his lips—it was Hema's face in his mind.

Later that night around 11pm, Emily was sleeping on the bed, Chris went to washroom. Her sleep was disturbed by message notifications.

The faint buzz of notifications pulled Emily's attention. She glanced at Chris's phone, noticing a flurry of messages from "Mark" lighting up the screen. A knot of suspicion tightened in her chest.

Chris rarely let anyone access his phone, but Emily had observed him input his passcode before—a careless moment months ago when he thought she wasn't looking. Now, her curiosity overrode her better judgment.

With trembling fingers, Emily unlocked the phone and opened the chat. Her heart pounded as she scrolled through the messages. Mark had sent several photos, each of a woman Emily didn't recognize.

The first image showed a young woman sitting on a balcony, sipping tea. Her posture was relaxed, her curls framing her face in soft waves. She looked serene, unaware she was being photographed.

Emily's brow furrowed as she swiped up, revealing more pictures. The same woman at a supermarket, carrying a basket of groceries. Another showed her walking down the road in a simple black kurta, the sunlight catching the embroidered threads.

It didn't take long for Emily to piece things together. This wasn't just anyone. This was someone Chris was obsessing over.

Her chest heaved as rage consumed her. She hadn't signed up to be humiliated, especially not by a man who prided himself on control.

"Chris," she called out, her voice sharp.

Chris stepped out of the bathroom, fixing his cufflinks. His gaze shifted to Emily, and the sight of his phone in her hands made his jaw tighten.

"What do you think you're doing?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous.

Emily stood, holding the phone up as if it were evidence in a trial. "What the hell is this, Chris? Who is she?"

His expression didn't change, but his silence spoke volumes.

"She's your employee , isn't she?" Emily's voice grew louder. "Mark's been sending you these photos—spying on her like some creep! What are you doing with them? What is she to you?"

Chris exhaled slowly, stepping closer. "You're overreacting," he said coldly, his eyes narrowing.

"Overreacting?" Emily's laugh was bitter. "You're having your assistant follow some girl, taking photos of her without her knowledge. And I'm overreacting?"

Chris tilted his head, his demeanor calm but his eyes sharp. "I suggest you calm down, Emily. You don't know what you're talking about."

"Calm down?" she spat. "You're obsessed with her, aren't you? Is this why you've been so distant? Why you can't even touch me without looking like you're thinking of someone else?"

His patience snapped. Chris closed the distance between them in two strides, gripping her arm with enough force to make her wince. "Watch your tone," he growled.

Emily yanked her arm free, glaring up at him. "You think you can intimidate me? You think I'll just look the other way while you chase after some… some Bitch?"

"She's not a bitch," Chris said, his voice fierce with anger.

The admission felt like a slap to Emily's face. Her chest heaved as she glared at him. "You arrogant bastard," she hissed. "You're risking everything—our families, our business ties—all for her?"

Chris smirked, the corner of his mouth curling in disdain. "You think you're so important, don't you? You're nothing but a pawn, Emily. A convenient arrangement."

The words hit her like a punch to the gut. Tears burned in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. "You're disgusting," she said, her voice trembling with rage.

Chris stepped closer, grabbing a handful of her hair and pulling her head back. Emily gasped, her hands flying to his wrist as she winced in pain.

"You don't get to talk to me like that," he hissed in her ear. "Not you. Not anyone."

Her breath hitched, her anger momentarily eclipsed by fear.

Chris released her abruptly, watching as she stumbled back. She straightened, glaring at him with pure hatred.

"You'll regret this, Chris," she said, her voice shaking. "You'll regret treating me like this. And I promise you, she'll regret it too."

Chris said nothing, his eyes cold as he watched her storm out of the room. The door slammed shut behind her, the sound echoing through the suite.