Chapter 6 Dinner For Two

Dinner for Two

The hospital air was thin, laced with antiseptic and fatigue. Emma hadn't slept, her heels kicked off hours ago and her body wrapped in Aiden's tailored blazer. Her father was resting inside, monitored, stabilized. Her brother had gone to grab coffee, and her sister had finally fallen asleep, curled into the arm of the visitor's bench like a child.

Aiden sat beside Emma in silence. For once, the air between them wasn't heavy with tension or flirtation. It was quiet. Intimate.

But the quiet didn't last.

"I shouldn't have kissed you," Emma murmured, breaking the stillness.

Aiden turned his head slowly, dark eyes fixed on her. "Do you regret it?"

"No," she said honestly. "That's the problem."

His hand slid across the bench, fingers brushing hers. "I don't either."

Her breath caught. The flicker of streetlight outside cast soft shadows on his face, making him look like something from a dream.

"I just..." Emma hesitated. "I don't want to be a scandal."

"You're not," he said. "You're the only real thing I've had in a long time."

His voice was low, rough around the edges. She turned to face him, and in a moment too swift to second-guess, she kissed him again. This time, it wasn't soft. It wasn't grateful.

It was needy.

Their lips collided like a spark to dry leaves. He pulled her closer, his hand finding the curve of her waist, her fingers clutching the front of his shirt. She climbed into his lap without thinking, heart pounding, breath shaky.

They pulled apart briefly, their foreheads pressed together, both of them breathless.

"Emma," he whispered.

"Yes?"

"Come with me."

"To where?"

"Anywhere," he said. "Just... come."

---

They ended up at his penthouse.

It was nearly dawn. The city sparkled through the glass walls like a million secrets. Emma stood near the window, her arms folded around herself, feeling suddenly out of place.

"You live here?" she asked.

"Temporarily," Aiden said, pouring two glasses of something amber. "My real place is in the hills."

He handed her the drink. Their fingers touched. She didn't pull away.

"I don't do this," Emma said. "I'm not the kind of girl who..."

"Neither am I," he replied with a smirk.

She laughed despite herself. "That makes no sense."

He stepped closer. "You don't make sense either. You show up in my life, completely by accident, and suddenly I can't think straight."

Her breath hitched again. He touched her chin, tilted her face up. "Tell me to stop, and I will."

She didn't.

Instead, she leaned up and kissed him.

This time, there was no holding back.

His hands explored her body as though memorizing every curve, her skin responding to his every touch. He guided her to the couch with ease, the taste of him still on her tongue. Clothes fell like petals. His shirt. Her dress. Her bra undone with one swift flick. His kisses trailed down her neck, slow and teasing. She gasped as his mouth found her skin, leaving heat in its wake.

"Aiden..." she moaned softly.

He paused only to look up. "Do you want this?"

"God, yes."

They made love like two people who had waited too long. It was slow. Deep. Real. Not just lust. It was more. With every stroke, every gasp, it was as though they were saying things they couldn't put into words.

Afterward, wrapped in each other under a silk sheet, Emma rested her head on his chest. His fingers lazily drew circles on her bare shoulder.

"I don't want to go back to pretending," she whispered.

"You won't have to."

---

The next morning, Emma returned home to check on her father. The house was quiet, the kind of calm that follows a storm. She made breakfast for her sister and brother. Her dad, weak but stable, smiled faintly when she kissed his forehead.

Then came the knock.

Emma opened the door and froze.

Her mother.

She hadn't seen her in years.

"Mom?"

Her mother stepped inside as if she had never left. Her eyes scanned the room, then locked onto Emma. "Heard your father collapsed. I figured someone had to come take charge."

Emma didn't know whether to hug her or throw her back out. The tension in the room sharpened.

"I have it handled," Emma said coolly.

"Clearly," her mother replied, eyes darting to the designer coat hanging on the hook the same one Aiden had draped over Emma's shoulders.

Emma exhaled. "Don't start."

Her mother smiled coldly. "I'm not starting. I'm watching. There's a difference."

---

Back at work, Ryan the smooth talking marketing head cornered Emma in the hallway.

"Rough weekend?" he asked with a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Not now, Ryan."

He leaned in. "Funny thing, though. Aiden was off the radar for most of Saturday night. Heard he drove someone to the hospital. Wonder who."

Emma didn't respond, but her heart thudded hard.

Ryan's eyes glittered. "Be careful, Emma. When men like Aiden fall, they don't fall alone. They drag people with them."

That night, Aiden invited her to dinner again. Just the two of them.

She wore a deep green dress this time. He waited outside her apartment, leaning against his car like a scene from a romance movie.

The restaurant was private, candlelit, tucked away in a street most people overlooked. The food was secondary. The wine, smooth. The conversation? Real.

He told her about his mother. About his first heartbreak. About the reason he didn't trust easily.

Emma told him about her childhood. Her father's illness. Her mother's betrayal.

"I don't want to hurt you," he said.

"Then don't."

They kissed again, this time slower, deeper. His thumb stroked her jaw, his hand on her thigh beneath the table.

But just as things were heating up, her phone buzzed.

Another text.

Another photo.

The same angle. A bit clearer now. Her and Aiden. This time, in the hospital parking lot.

The caption:

"You didn't listen. Now she will."

Emma's hand trembled.

Aiden took her phone, stared at it, and then stood so abruptly his chair scraped.

"We're leaving."

They got into the car. He drove in silence.

"Who is it?" she asked finally.

"I have one guess," he muttered. "But if I'm right... this just got very dangerous."

---

They reached his penthouse again. He closed the curtains. Locked the doors. Checked his phone. Then he looked at her.

"Emma, I need to ask you something. And I need you to be honest."

She nodded.

"Do you trust me?"

"Yes."

He stepped closer.

"Then no matter what you see, what you hear in the next few days... stay close to me. Don't run."

She didn't understand, but she nodded anyway.

He kissed her again. This time with urgency. Their bodies tangled again, the passion more desperate, more raw. He lifted her against the wall, her legs around his waist, his breath warm against her neck.

They didn't make it to the bed.

And in the afterglow, when Emma dozed off, tangled in his arms, Aiden stared out the window, phone in hand.

He opened a message thread.

And typed: "She's not safe anymore. We need to move now."

---

Then suddenly... a loud bang echoed through the window. Glass shattered. Aiden threw himself over Emma, shielding her.

To be continued...