Page 26 of The Pakhan's Secret Baby

She pushes off the wall, trying to sidestep me. “No. Absolutely not. I'm too busy."

But I turn, following her movement, and walk backward with her as she moves toward the corner where the car is parked waiting. “Then let me understand. Let me in, Emory. I’ve waited three years. I can wait a little longer if it means doing this right.”

“You’re lying,” she snaps, but there’s less heat in it now. “No one searches for three years over a one-night stand. You want something. Everyone wants something.”

“I want you," I spit, now letting some of my frustration out. It's not easy being rejected repeatedly by someone who previously devoured you. “That’s all."

She stops trying to edge past me.

For a long second she just stares at the necklace, teeth worrying her lower lip.

I can practically hear the excuses stacking up in her head, each one weaker than the last.

“My schedule's insane,” she tries. “Classes until late, study groups?—”

“I’ll work around it.”

“I don’t even like fancy jewelry?—”

“You’re staring at this one like it’s the only star in the sky.”

She huffs a frustrated breath. “God, you’re relentless. This is why I left that morning. I knew you’d be trouble.”

I chuckle. “I'm trouble worth finding again.” I lift the box higher. “Take it. Please. Let me see it on you, even for a minute.”

“It’s beautiful,” she admits, “but I still can’t?—”

The sky cracks open before she finishes.

Cold, bitter January rain trickles down, soaking through my hair in seconds.

Wind whips it sideways, stinging our faces like needles. Emory gasps, yanking her hood up too late.

Water streams off of her hat and down her cheeks.

I snap the box shut and slide it back into my pocket, then grab her elbow gently but firmly. “My car is right around the corner. Come on.”

She tries to pull away. “No—I can walk. It’s not far?—”

“It’s pouring.” I steer her toward the street where the black SUV idles, wipers slashing back and forth as the rain picks up. “I’m not letting you catch pneumonia just to prove a point. Get in the car, Emory.”

“I said no!” She digs her heels in, rain plastering strands of hair to her forehead.

But I lean close, my tone cutting through the downpour. “You can fight me the whole way if you want, but you’re getting in that car. I’m not watching the woman I’ve spent three years chasing get drenched and sick on my account.”

The driver has already stepped out with an umbrella, holding it over us as best he can.

Water sheets off the black fabric as Emory’s teeth start chattering.

She glances at the SUV, then back at me, eyes wide with a mix of fury and reluctant defeat.

“Fine,” she mutters finally, the word almost lost in a gust of wind. “But only to the corner near where I’m going. Nowhere else.”

I guide her forward, shielding her with my body as we move toward the car. The rain bites harder now, soaking my coat, but I don’t care.

I'm one step closer to the child and getting everything I need.

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