Chapter 41 – Losing Control

Emma sat across from Alex at a secluded table in an upscale restaurant, regretting every life decision that had led her here.

The low hum of conversation, the golden candlelight flickering against the dark wood, the scent of expensive wine in the air—everything felt too intimate. Too deliberate.

And the worst part?

Alex looked completely at ease, swirling a glass of whiskey in his hand, watching her like he had already won.

Emma exhaled sharply, placing her menu down. "Let's just get one thing straight, Kingston. This isn't a date."

Alex smirked, leaning forward slightly. "Oh?"

She narrowed her eyes. "It's dinner. That's it."

He hummed in amusement. "And yet, you're still here."

Emma clenched her jaw, refusing to rise to the bait.

A waiter approached, and before she could order, Alex spoke. "She'll have the filet, medium rare. And a glass of the Bordeaux."

Emma shot him a glare. "I can order for myself."

Alex met her stare, unbothered. "I know."

The waiter, clearly sensing the tension, nodded and walked away.

Emma crossed her arms. "You're insufferable."

Alex took a sip of his whiskey, his eyes gleaming. "And yet, you're still here."

Emma rolled her eyes, grabbing her water glass. "If you say that one more time, I swear—"

"You'll what, Carter?" His voice dipped lower, sending a shiver down her spine. "Walk away?"

Emma froze, her fingers tightening around the glass.

He wasn't just talking about tonight.

He was talking about all of it—the way she kept pulling back, the way she kept pretending this thing between them wasn't real.

And the worst part?

She had no good answer.

The food arrived before she could respond, but the silence between them was anything but empty.

—

Halfway through dinner, Emma felt herself relaxing—against her better judgment.

It was infuriating how easy it was to talk to him when he wasn't being an arrogant ass. He was sharp, witty, and when he wasn't trying to provoke her, he was… almost charming.

Almost.

"You're staring," Alex noted, smirking over the rim of his glass.

Emma scoffed. "I'm trying to figure out how anyone puts up with you."

He chuckled. "Would you believe me if I said you're the only one who doesn't?"

She raised an eyebrow. "No."

He grinned. "Smart woman."

Emma shook her head, but a reluctant smile tugged at her lips.

The moment stretched between them, something unspoken flickering in the air.

Then, Alex leaned in, voice quieter. "Tell me something, Carter."

Emma tilted her head. "What?"

"Why do you fight this so much?"

Her stomach flipped.

"This?" she echoed.

Alex studied her, his gaze heavier than usual. "Us."

Emma's throat went dry.

There was no teasing in his voice now. No smug confidence.

Just quiet certainty.

Like he already knew her answer.

Emma swallowed, forcing herself to look away. "There is no 'us,' Kingston."

She expected him to smirk, to throw another taunt her way.

But instead, he just nodded, like he had expected that response.

"Not yet."

Emma's breath caught, but before she could respond, he signaled for the check.

—

Outside, the air was cool, a sharp contrast to the warmth of the restaurant.

Alex walked her to her car, his hands in his pockets, his expression unreadable.

She should say something.

Anything.

But for the first time in a long time, Emma Carter was speechless.

She reached for her car door, but Alex moved first, pressing his palm against the metal, blocking her path.

Emma looked up, pulse hammering.

He was close.

Too close.

His gaze flickered over her face, lingering on her lips. "I'm going to kiss you, Carter."

Emma's breath hitched.

"But not tonight."

Heat flooded her body, frustration curling in her stomach. "Why not?" she blurted before she could stop herself.

Alex's smirk was slow, knowing. "Because when I do, you won't be able to pretend you don't want it."

Emma's chest tightened.

Before she could formulate a response—before she could even think—he stepped back, giving her space.

"Drive safe, Carter."

And then, just like that, he was gone.

Emma gripped the car door, her fingers trembling.

Damn him.

Damn him for knowing exactly how to get under her skin.

Damn him for making her want it.

—

To be continued…