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Chapter 16
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I used to laugh at men like me. The ones who swore they’d never fall, never chain themselves to love, only to crumble the moment a woman smiled their way. I was a playboy, untouchable, careless with hearts and reputations alike. My name carried weight in the city, not because I was respectable, but because people feared the chaos I could stir.
And then came Emerald.
I remember the first time I saw her. She wasn’t trying to impress anyone–her hair was tied back messily, her shirt wrinkled from hours of work, but her eyes burned with defiance. Back then, I denied it, of course. To everyone. Especially to my so–called friends. I remember one night at the club, the music pounding, the tables littered with half–empty glasses. My friends leaned back in their seats, laughter rising above the noise.
“Martin,” one of them jeered, clapping me on the shoulder, “rumor has it you’ve got your eye on someone. Don’t tell me the great Martin Villareal is finally falling in love.”
I snorted, swirling the whiskey in my glass. “Love? Please. That’s for fools who don’t know how the world works.”
Another friend leaned in, smirking. “Oh, come on. Don’t deny it. Everyone sees the way you look at her on campus. Emerald, right? The one who never lets you win without a fight?”
I laughed louder than I felt. “Emerald? She’s an irritation, nothing more. A thorn in my side. If anything, I enjoy crushing her pride.”
They all roared at that, clinking their glasses together. But deep down, I hated how close to the truth they were.
One of them wagged a finger at me. “Careful, Martin. That’s exactly how it starts. First she’s a thorn, then she’s under your skin, and the next thing you know, you’re buying rings and writing poetry.”
“Over my dead body,” I shot back, masking the unease with arrogance. “I don’t fall. I make people fall. I don’t get tied down. If Emerald thinks she can change that, she’s wasting her time.”
The table erupted with another round of laughter, and I forced myself to laugh with them.
But the joke was already on me.
Because later that night, as the noise of the club faded and I drove home alone, it wasn’t the faces of the women I’d flirted with that filled my mind. It was hers. The way Emerald’s eyes narrowed when she argued with me, the way her lips pressed together when she was holding back a retort. The stubborn fire that made me want to break her guard just to see what was beneath it.
And I realized then: I wasn’t laughing at her. I was terrified of her.
So. I made her my enemy… to get close to her… and probably forget about her. Everv
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So, I made her my enemy… to get close to her… and probably forget about her. Every chance I got, I teased her. Mocked her ideas, countered her decisions, called her naïve.
“You’re too soft, Emerald,” I’d sneer across the table. “This world eats people like you alive.”
And she would roll her eyes, shooting back, “At least I have a conscience, Martin. Something you’ll never understand.”
Our banter became legendary. Everyone knew we couldn’t be in the same room without clashing. What they didn’t know–what I refused to admit–was that I liked her. Too much. She had gotten under my skin, under the layers of arrogance I wore like armor.
But I let my pride ruin it. I pushed her away so forcefully that she stopped seeing me as anything but an obstacle. And then she fell into Leandro’s arms.
That was the first time I realized what regret tasted like. Bitter. Unforgiving. A reminder that even the strongest man can be a coward.
I was lost in that memory when my office door burst open. One of my men stepped in, bowing his head before speaking urgently.
“Sir, we have new information. Nadine was spotted alone, crying in her car. It seems Leandro… doesn’t want to marry her. Word is, he stepped down as CEO. He’s been drinking heavily. These are the photos.”
He slid an envelope across my desk. My hand froze for a moment before I opened it.
The images showed Nadine sitting in a parking lot, her mascara smeared, her phone pressed to her ear with no one answering on the other end. Another set of photos showed Leandro stumbling out of a club, his once–pristine suit wrinkled, his eyes glassy.
So the perfect empire was cracking.
I leaned back, exhaling sharply. “Keep watch over both of them. I want reports on every move they make.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And…” I added, my tone sharpening, “make sure Emerald and Gwen are untouchable. I don’t want even a shadow of harm near them. Understood?”
The man nodded quickly and left, leaving me with the envelope still spread open on my desk.
It was then that another knock came. Softer this time. Familiar.
Emerald stepped into the room, her presence pulling me out of the fog of strategies and regrets. She looked tired–her eyes rimmed with sleeplessness–but she still carried that strength I’d admired years ago.
“I overheard,” she said quietly, her gaze darting to the papers on my desk. “You were talking about Nadine. And Leandro.”
I didn’t deny it. “Yes. Nadine is unraveling, and Leandro… well, he’s destroying himself.”
Her lips pressed into a thin line. “So. What now?”
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I tilted my head, studying her. “Would you like to do something?”
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Her expression flickered with a darkness I rarely saw from her. For a moment, I thought she’d say yes–thought she’d demand revenge. But then she shook her head, her voice trembling with restrained fury.
“I want her to feel what it’s like to lose everything, Martin. To lose a child, to lose love, to lose peace. But…” she stopped, her eyes softening, “I can’t do it. I’m not that evil. Not like her. All I want now is peace–with Gwen… and with you.”
The words sank into me like fire, burning away the bitterness I’d carried. I stood slowly, stepping closer, searching her face for hesitation. There was none.
“So, Emerald,” I said carefully, almost afraid of breaking the moment, “what is it you want from me?”
She lifted her eyes to mine, and for the first time since I’d known her, she didn’t look at me like an enemy. She looked at me like a choice. Like a man.
“Would you,” she asked, her lips curving into the faintest, most fragile smile, “like to go on a date with me?”
