"There's no show."
"There's absolutely a show." He grinned. "Damien Holt, the man who swore he'd never collar anyone seriously, sitting here looking like a lovesick teenager because his girl chose the right chair."
"I never said I'd never collar anyone seriously."
"You implied it. Loudly. For years." He tilted his head. "What changed?"
Whatchanged?
Everything. Nothing. Emma had walked into my life like an earthquake I hadn't seen coming, and by the time I'd realized the ground was shifting, it was already too late to find stable footing.
"She's different," I said finally. The words were inadequate. Laughably so.
"Different how?"
I stared at my knuckles—no bruises left, no innocence either.
"She doesn't need me."
Todd's brow furrowed. "And that's a good thing?"
"It's the only thing." I paused, searching for words that could capture what Emma was. What she meant. "She runs a company. Commands boardrooms. Makes grown men twice her age sit down and shut up."
"She's intimidating. Brilliant. Beautiful." I glanced at her again. Her curls bouncing as she talked. "And then she chooses to let me in anyway."
Todd was quiet for a moment. Processing.
"That's terrifying," he said at last.
"Yeah." My voice dropped. "It is."
Todd studied me like a knot he meant to understand.
"Does she know?"
"Know what?"
"How far gone you are."
I didn't answer. Across the room, Emma was laughing at something Vivian said, her head tipping back, throat exposed. Even from here, the delicate chain circled her neck. The collar I'd given her.
Mine.
"I haven't told her," I admitted. "Not in words."
"Why not?"
"It's complicated," I said.
Todd snorted. "It's always complicated with you."
She was leaning forward now, mug cradled in her hands, listening to Vivian with an intensity that made my chest ache.
She'd said it first.
The memory surfaced unbidden—sharp and clear, a knife I kept turning over in my hands.
After she'd seen me with my hands in someone else's blood.
