Filthy Little Games

Ch. 15: The Third Option

QUINTON

"What do you mean you're leaving?"

Emery stands before me, a shell of her usual vibrant self. It hurts my heart seeing her so faded, so fucking defeated. She avoids eye contact, her body visibility shrinking as lets out a frustrated sigh.

"I can't do this, Quin," she mutters. "It's not... It's not fair to you. To..." She swallows. "To Damon. I... I need to leave. I need to leave before I end up hurting both of you."

"You're not going to hurt me." And I believe it. Every word.

She tilts her head, finally allowing her green eyes to link with mine. "Your confidence is admirable, Quin. But it's rooted in something that doesn't exist. I could hurt you. So badly. I don't—" A pain mars her brows. "I don't understand why you'd risk that. ... For me."

Emery's doubt casts a dark shadow over the warmth and comfort of the villa. Her withdrawal from our connection, her resignation to the idea that she could harm us, is a heart-wrenching blow. I've seen her lively spirit, her determination, and her strength, but that's all gone, faded. Now, she's fragile and uncertain.

I did this to her.

We both did.

I step closer, unable to bear the distance that's grown between us. "Emery," I say, my voice gentle but unwavering, "I know we've put you in an incredibly difficult position, and it's not easy, I know it's not. But what we have? What we can potentially grow into? It's remarkable. It's something that's worth fighting for, and this is me... Fighting for you."

Her green eyes, normally so alive and filled with fire, now glisten with a vulnerability I've become so accustomed to. Her lips part, but words elude her. Instead, she takes a small step closer, her hand trembling as it reaches for mine.

Our fingers brush, and in that simple touch, I feel the world shift. Emery's doubts and fears haven't vanished, but perhaps she's willing to let go, to trust in the fragile magic that's woven between us. I offer her a small, hopeful smile, not demanding an immediate answer but simply extending my hand, an invitation to entertain the uncertainty.

"Stay," I say softly. "Stay for the New Year's Eve party, Emery, and if you still feel like leaving in the morning, I'll have the jet ready for you. But just for tonight, take the risk. Take the risk and stay."

I wish I could hear her thoughts. I wish I could tap into her subconscious mind, be privy to her process, to that gorgeous brain as it churns with deliberation. She can't leave. I know what her departure would mean. I know she'd be steadfast in her decision. She'd be running away from me. From him. And at this point, with that scary look in her eyes, I'm not sure either of us would be able to catch her again.

"Just for tonight," she whispers. "Then I'm leaving."

I need to change that.

We... we need to change that.

***

The tension is palpable, thick with unspoken words and unresolved emotions as I enter the study. Damon's head snaps up from behind a newspaper, expression stormy, his dark eyes flashing with contempt.

"You're alone," I note, surprised not to find Maya hovering around him. "Where's your...friend?"

"I got bored," he says, tone sharp and defensive. "Why do you care?"

I fight the urge to roll my eyes as I sit in the armchair in front of him. "I care for the same reason you care, Damon." I pause for a loaded beat, before stating, "Emery's leaving."