Chapter 22: Losing Control

Emma Carter did not lose.

Not in negotiations. Not in court. And definitely not in a battle of wills with Alex Kingston.

Yet, as she sat on his couch, his gaze locked onto hers, something felt dangerously out of her control.

His words lingered in the air like a slow-burning fuse.

So, I wonder how you'll handle it when you finally lose it.

Emma wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

So, she smirked instead. "You assume I can lose."

Alex leaned closer, resting his arm on the back of the couch, his face inches from hers. "Everyone has a breaking point, Carter."

Emma refused to move away.

If he wanted to play this game, fine. She would win.

"Is that what this is?" she asked coolly. "You trying to find mine?"

Alex's lips twitched. "Maybe."

Emma tilted her head. "And what happens when you don't?"

Alex studied her for a moment, his eyes dark, calculating.

Then, he smiled.

"I guess I'll just have to keep pushing."

—

The rest of the day was a test.

A war of restraint.

Alex had this infuriating way of making everything feel like a challenge.

From the way he leaned in just a little too close when reaching for something—

To the way his fingers brushed against hers when handing her a drink.

And worst of all?

The way he looked at her.

Like he was waiting for something.

Like he knew.

—

Emma kept her walls up.

She stayed sharp, unreadable, giving him nothing.

But by the time the evening rolled around, she was exhausted.

Not that she would ever admit it.

They sat in his penthouse dining area, the city lights glittering through the massive windows.

Alex had cooked.

Which she hadn't expected.

"Surprised?" he asked, setting a plate in front of her.

Emma raised a brow. "I didn't think you were the type."

Alex smirked. "And what type is that?"

She picked up her fork. "The kind that actually knows how to use a kitchen."

Alex chuckled, sitting across from her. "I'm full of surprises, Carter."

Emma rolled her eyes but took a bite.

It was… annoyingly good.

She refused to compliment him.

Alex, however, watched her with amusement. "You like it."

Emma took another bite, ignoring him.

Alex grinned. "I'll take that as a yes."

She sighed. "Do you ever stop talking?"

"Not when I'm right."

Emma shook her head. "You're insufferable."

Alex leaned forward slightly, his voice lower. "And yet, here you are."

Her grip tightened on her fork.

Because he was right.

She was still here.

And the worst part?

She didn't hate it.

—

After dinner, Emma stood by the window, sipping a glass of wine.

The city stretched out before her, endless lights, endless movement.

She felt Alex's presence before he even spoke.

"You're overthinking," he murmured.

Emma glanced at him. "I'm thinking. That's different."

Alex smirked. "Not with you, it's not."

She frowned. "And what does that mean?"

Alex stepped closer, close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating from him.

"You don't let yourself just be," he said. "Everything with you has to have a purpose. A strategy."

Emma's jaw tightened. "That's how I win."

Alex's gaze darkened. "And what happens when the game changes?"

Emma exhaled slowly.

Because this—this—wasn't just banter anymore.

This was something else.

Something deeper.

Something dangerous.

She turned to face him fully. "What exactly do you want, Kingston?"

Alex didn't hesitate.

"You."

Her breath caught.

Not because she was shocked.

But because he said it like it was inevitable.

Like it was fact.

Emma squared her shoulders. "I don't do distractions."

Alex's smirk faded slightly. "Then why haven't you walked away?"

Emma had no answer.

Because she should walk away.

She should end this game before it became something she couldn't control.

But instead—

She stayed.

And Alex knew it.