Chapter 12
Emily Smith clenched the handle of her suitcase, her nails digging deep into her palms. She tilted her head back, forcing the tears threatening to spill to retreat.
William Johnson leaned against the marble pillar in the foyer, his long fingers toying with a car key. His sharp eyes narrowed, locking onto her stubborn silhouette like a hawk.
"Come here," his thin lips parted.
The tone was one reserved for a disobedient pet.
"Mr. Johnson, I didn't realize this young lady was part of your household staff. My apologies," the security guard stammered, recognizing William and immediately bowing his head.
Household staff?
William's gaze turned icy, the intensity making the guard shudder.
"Miss, Mr. Johnson is calling you," the guard hastily turned to Emily. "You should go."
Emily took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling rapidly. She remained rooted in place, her nails scraping faintly against the suitcase handle.
William wasn't in a hurry. He waited, perfectly composed.
In the end, Emily was the one who took the first step. She dragged her suitcase behind her, each movement feeling like walking on knives.
Seeing her relent, William turned and walked away without another word. They entered the elevator one after the other.
"Did you see my message?" Emily asked softly, staring at the changing floor numbers.
"Hmm." William suddenly turned, his gaze landing on the redness at the corners of her eyes.
He cursed under his breath before slamming her against the cold elevator wall. His long fingers gripped her chin, and his punishing kiss crashed down.
"Mmph—"
Emily struggled to push him away, but he easily pinned her wrists above her head with one hand. The elevator dinged as it reached the 67th floor. Without hesitation, William scooped her up and kicked the obstructing suitcase aside.
"William! Put me down!"
He ignored her, unlocking the apartment with his fingerprint before pressing her against the entryway cabinet, his lips claiming hers again. Only when Emily grabbed his wandering hand did he pause.
"No... I'm on my period."
William froze. He released her and strode into the master bedroom without a backward glance, slamming the door shut behind him.
Emily slid down to the floor, her fingers still trembling.
She dragged her suitcase into the guest room. The silver-gray silk bedding gleamed coldly under the moonlight, and a few brand-new sleepwear sets hung in the walk-in closet.
That night, she slept fitfully.
The next morning, when Emily opened her bedroom door, William was already at the dining table. A butler with a golden name tag stood beside him.
"And this is...?" the woman couldn't hide her surprise.
"Distant cousin," William replied without looking up. "Get her registered for building access."
The word "cousin" made Emily's fingers twitch.
The woman immediately smiled warmly. "Miss Smith, hello. I'm the residence manager, Song Yan."
"Thank you for your help," Emily murmured.
Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating the dining table. In the reflection on the glass, Emily caught sight of herself—pale as a ghost.