9 - Call Me Emma I stood up, not meeting his eyes, and looked for anything to cover myself with. “Emma, if it’s some—” “It’s nothing. Leave it,” I said, keeping my voice steady, but it was difficult when he genuinely seemed concerned about me. I found the clothes he had ordered and donned the comfortable long-sleeved dress over a black bra and underwear. They were definitely expensive, and he had got my size perfect. Why couldn’t he be mean and leave me after the sex? No. He just had to cuddle me, shower me, give me more orgasms, lotion me, ask about that damn bruise and buy comfortable clothing in my plus-size. “Emma—” I was saved by a phone ring. He let out a sigh and picked it up, turning his back and I definitely didn’t watch the muscles of his back clenching as he moved, or even his mysterious tattoos and definitely not the low hanging pants that revealed two back dimples and a tight ass. I can’t believe I was staring him with an open mouth. What’s worse was that I

11 - Not Black Enough Emma Before The day my mom died was one of the happiest days of eighteen years of my life. Oops, nineteen. It was my birthday, after all. It started with me waking up to Caleb’s phone call, demanding me to open the curtain of my bedroom window and looking over the vast backyard towards his parked Jeep. My boyfriend was waving at me with white balloons and shouting, ‘Happy Birthday, Emma fucking Moore!’ Despite how it could have angered mother (when one of her maids updated about my life) I was grinning. I was happy. “Miss Moore, are you listening to me?” the sweet voice of Mrs Karen cranked through the phone, making me snap out of my head and shiver. I looked around at the dinner table, Mia and Summer laughing at Caleb’s dad’s joke. My head felt heavy and tongue felt like lead. “Can you hear me, Miss Moore?” “Yes.” I stood up, briskly walking out of the restaurant and breathing in a lung full of crisp night air. It was such a good weather. “I can hear you

13 - She Needs Your Help Cillian “So, whose party was it?” I asked, changing the gear and taking a turn while Caleb kept looking out of the window. I could smell the weed and beer on him. His eyes were bloodshot, hair ruffled, and he was still wearing the suit he had worn that morning. “Don’t know.” He shrugged, not sparing me a glance. “I just went there to get high.” My jaw clenched. “And where’s your car?” “At E—” He stopped whatever he was saying and straightened up. “It’s safe. I’ll pick it up tomorrow.” God, how fucking hard is it to have a conversation with my own son? “Where were you?” he asked, flickering his eyes at me for a moment. “You shaved and dressed up. Date?” “No,” I scoffed, tugging at the collar of my shirt. “I was at a club. I’m too old to date someone.” Definitely too old for someone like Emma. I thought bitterly. He stayed quiet for a moment, staring at his lap before whispering, “Mom would’ve liked you to be happy.” My hand loosened on the steering

15 - I’ll StayCillian“Why do you have a blanket?” I asked Emma, following her to the guest room and eyeing the way her manicured black nails were clutching the damn thing so tightly. I had known her for a few hours and in that time, I knew she wasn’t the type to get scared easily. My hand tightened into a fist, seeing her let out a small sigh of relief when we walked out of her room.She looked over her shoulder, a wavy lock of blonde hair brushing her cheekbone. “I might be traumatized. This is just a precaution.” My lips twitched. “Of course.” Her brother was reluctant to leave me alone with his sister, which I understood. If I was in his shoes, I wouldn’t let any man close to her. My jaw clenched remembering the white release on her pink underwear. Someone was either playing a sick joke or it was something much more serious. Unfortunately, my guess was the latter.The text, the writing on her mirror, the spilling on her underwear, giving her a present, and all that time, dire

17 - What did I miss?CillianThere have been a few times in forty years of life that I wished I wasn’t present in a particular situation and instead lock myself in a room, bury myself in huge blankets, and never ever meet another person again. Most of the time, it was during a life-threatening situation where I had to save a comrade who had been shot, when Olivia went into labor, and when I found her dead. Apparently, standing in the guest room of my son’s ex-girlfriend, whose damp hair was wetting her tee shirt, was one of those situations. Mostly because I was the one between her soft thighs last entire night.Jesus Christ. Did I fucking sleep with…“Dad? What the fuck are you doing here?” My eyes twitched—which was never a good sign—looking at Caleb and Emma. He looked like he was ready for school in his very rumpled uniform and tousled hair.“This is work,” I said, trying to keep my voice emotionless. Because I had slept with my son’s ex. Emma. “I thought you were Emma Grant,”