Instead, I go to my office, exactly as I said I would.
Passing the empty receptionist desk, I slam my office door closed.
Fuck him for coming here without giving me a heads-up. I could’ve prepared myself. He knew what he was doing, catching me off guard.
Rounding my desk, I push my chair out of the way and stand over it. Palms flat on the top, head hung low.
I was in survival mode when I took over this role. Desperate to prove myself. Equally desperate to prove my ex-husband wrong. I don’t want to go back to that place mentally, but I can feel the anxiousness stirring inside. I’m worked up. I need an outlet.
I need... I don’t know what I need. I just need to forget I was ever his.
My door flies open.
“What the hell is he doing here?” Emmett booms, charging in like he owns the place.
It’s no wonder everyone thinks there’s something going on between us. Throwing open my door like he has every right to.
“You can’t just barge into my office!”
“Then hire a fucking receptionist to keep me out!”
Something stirs in me from hearing the anger in his voice.
Maybe this is what I need. Maybe I need a fight. I never used to fight with Jeremy because there was nothing to fight for. Butwith Emmett, it feels safe to fight with him because I know we’re fighting for the same thing.
Emmett’s tone drops to a menacing level. “What the hell is he doing here, Reese?”
“He’s working. What do you want me to do about that?”
“Kick him out. I don’t want him in your stadium.”
Your stadium.
We so often banter about who has the right to what. The dugout. The clubhouse. The team. But with the conversation involving my ex-husband, the way Emmett gives me full ownership doesn’t go unnoticed.
Emmett is still worked up the way I am as he takes slow steps toward my desk.
“In case there’s any miscommunication here, let me clear a few things up for you.” He dips his head, eyes piercing mine under his heavy brow. “You aremine. That night we finally got together, when you said you wanted to make me yours, that goes both ways. You are mine, Reese, and if I need to go make sure he fucking realizes that, I will. Or is it you who needs reminding?”
This. This is what I need.
I need to feel like his.
I need him to remind me that I am.
I need him to erase any memories of a time that I wasn’t.
Lifting my chin defiantly, I look him square in the eye. “Prove it.”
He stops in his tracks, brows lifting. “What did you just say to me?”
“Prove it. Prove that I’m yours.”
He exhales an ominous laugh, turning to pace his same path. “Don’t say something like that to me unless you want me to follow through. You don’t want to play this game with me, Reese. I’m too fired up to be smart right now.”
I don’t care that we’re in my office. I don’t care that this is a terrible idea. At this point, I’m too worked up to even pretend to care.
“Prove. It.”
