What was happening? The man's words were baffling—what did he mean by catching someone red-handed? Emmie Stewart didn't need to think twice to realize that the person who had entered wasn’t anyone else.
Emmie was certain that Finley Thomas was standing right across from the bed, his gaze feeling as though it pierced through the covers to her very soul. “Please, just make him leave quickly.”
Emmie’s face was practically contorted with embarrassment; if Finley saw her current state, she might wish the ground would swallow her up. The man seemed indifferent to Emmie's silent plea for rescue and instead settled himself atop her stomach, pulling the blanket down a bit. In desperation, Emmie placed a pillow over her face, silently praying that Finley’s eyes would stop functioning.
Finley, who had seen many unusual scenes, looked at the two people on the bed without a hint of expression, fully aware of the suggestive nature of the situation. However, the man before him was someone he utterly despised. Relaxing his shoulders, he turned to leave without uttering a word.
“You’re just going to walk away?” Emmie was momentarily stunned. What did this mean? Was the man not planning to help her? Peeking out from under the pillow, she saw a magnified handsome face, so striking it nearly took her breath away. She could hear her heart pounding. She didn’t yet realize that if a mirror were held over her head, she'd see how flushed her cheeks were.
“What are you doing?” Emmie whispered, hoping the man would have a little mercy and let her escape this awkward encounter.
“What do you think I’m doing?” The man's voice was loud enough to wake the dead, and Emmie felt a surge of panic—was he trying to get her into trouble?
“Please, make him leave?” At this point, all she could do was endure. If she upset this man and he left her exposed to Finley, she’d really be in a fix. First, Martin Thomas wouldn’t let her hear the end of it, and secondly, if word got out, she'd be too humiliated to face anyone.
“Name your price!” The man’s words came out through gritted teeth, and Emmie saw a glimmer of hope. With a faint smile, she replied in a low tone, "I’ll do whatever you want, as long as it doesn't involve physical harm."
“Deal!”
The handsome face moved away, and the man jumped off the bed. As his feet hit the ground, he pulled the blanket back up, allowing Emmie to breathe a sigh of relief beneath it.
“What, you think I'm going to stick around as an observer?”
That was Finley’s voice. Emmie screamed internally—yes, yes, please leave, I beg you!
“You’ve ruined my day, how do you plan to make it up to me?” Emmie remained hidden under the blanket, hearing the man bargaining with Finley, growing increasingly anxious—what was this guy's angle?
“I’ll cover all your expenses here, will that do?” Finley’s voice sounded irritated. After all, he was concerned Emmie might misunderstand him. Yet, someone had to disrupt his plans.
“Such a trivial amount, what does it mean to you? Using that to compensate me seems beneath you, doesn’t it?” The man emphasized the word “beneath,” letting his gaze flick to the raised portion of the bed, his lips curling into a smug smile.
Finley retrieved a sleek black wallet from his pocket, tossed a gold card onto the bed, and said, “This should be enough!” Without a backward glance at the man, he exited the room, slamming the door behind him.
Emmie, hidden under the blanket, jumped at the loud noise, curling up in fear and closing her eyes to compose herself. She was petrified—Finley had a temper that shouldn’t be casually tested. She needed to be more cautious in the future.
“Did you fall asleep or something?” The voice sounded eerily close to Emmie’s ear, jolting her into sitting upright. Glaring at the face with the playful grin, she muttered, “Thanks!”
With his arms crossed and leaning against the wall, the man replied with dissatisfaction, “Is that how you thank your rescuer? I think he hasn’t gone far yet; maybe I should call him back…”
“No, no, that was wrong of me, please don’t bring him back!” Emmie interrupted, quickly apologizing with exaggerated gratitude, “Thank you so much!”
“Forget it, I’ll be the bigger person. What’s your name?”
His demeanor and expression conjured up the word “punchable” in Emmie’s mind. Frowning slightly, she replied, “Emmie Stewart.”
The man gazed at her for a good two seconds and then kindly poured her a comforting cup of coffee. “My name is Finley Thomas.”
Emmie was bewildered by his sudden change in attitude, but when she heard those last three words, she choked, sputtering her drink onto Finley. The liquid trickled down his bare skin to his towel.
Finley shot her a murderous glare and dashed to the bathroom. She heard the water running and knew he wouldn’t be out anytime soon. She quickly tidied her clothes, brushed her unruly hair, touched up her makeup, and, when the sound of running water continued uninterrupted from the bathroom, tip-toed to the door. Once outside, she strutted out of the hotel with a composed, dignified air.
Back in her room at the Hamilton house, she finally relaxed her taut nerves. Today had been dreadful. Trying to avoid Finley, she had unwittingly ended up in his room. If anyone found out, Martin would surely have her head!
The thought sent a shiver down her spine. Finley wouldn’t tell Martin, would he? If so, she was truly doomed. Then again, what would Finley gain from telling Martin? Surely he wasn’t that petty!
Finley emerged from the bathroom and, seeing no sign of Emmie, pressed his lips together in frustration. “Spit water at me, will you? You’ve got nowhere to hide!”
As Emmie was drifting off to sleep, her door swung open forcefully, and there stood Kairi Hamilton, looking down at her. “How can you still have the nerve to nap? What a useless slug!”
Emmie slowly sat up, meeting Kairi’s gaze coldly. “You’d think the lady of the house would be refined. But it turns out you’re nothing more than a sheltered flower, a frog in a well. Don’t you know slugs can be sold?”
Kairi’s eyes narrowed, like daggers piercing into Emmie. “Calling me sheltered? Just like a pauper to only see the money!”
“Exactly. So, it’s best if you don’t come into a pauper’s room!” Emmie pointed to the door, her voice icy. “You don’t need me to show you out, do you?”
“Do you think I wanted to come see you? If Dad hadn’t asked me to call you to the study, I wouldn’t have bothered stepping in here.” Kairi turned to leave, offering a parting shot, “The necklace I’m wearing? Dad picked it just for me. He said it suits me perfectly!” With that, she left, closing the door behind her with satisfaction.
Emmie clenched her fists, biting her lip, reminding herself not to get angry. Kairi was just trying to provoke her for amusement. But those taunts were like pebbles thrown into a river, quickly washed away by the current.
