AllFreeNovel
Share Us
CHAPTERTEN
The scentof bacon and the heady aroma of Noah on her pillow tugged Emma from a fitful sleep.
After her tears had finally dried the night before, Noah had coaxed her into a bath. Sliding into the warm, aromatic water was the last thing she remembered clearly. She had flashes of his hands in her wet, soapy hair, of him wrapping a giant towel around her, and helping her into a T-shirt and sweats, but all the images held a dream-like quality.
Oh, how she wished she could remember clearly!
She eased onto the side of the bed and, leaning against a vase of yellow roses, a folded piece of paper on the nightstand caught her attention. Behind the flowers, there was a wrapped box decorated in the same simple paper and twine as the gift Noah had given his grandmother.
She grabbed the note.
Emma,
I got you a new phone, and Mamá brought you clothes. Lots of clothes. I hung them in my closet. We’ll talk about everything else when you’re beside me. ~Noah
She hugged the note to her chest. That man!
Grabbing the gift, her smile grew. The phone inside had no case, and no logo marked the casing—no, wait. Yes, there it was. On the back, in the left lower corner, a scripted “WG” was etched into the sleek silver exterior. This was a Whitlow Group product, which meant it was the best of the best.
She brought the device to life. Somehow, Noah had replicated her old phone, right down to the image on her Lock Screen: the Scales of Justice decorated with pale purple, pink, blue, and yellow flowers.
She swiped up to open. Wow! Her text message icon sported the number “67” in a red circle and the call icon showed “38” missed calls. Emma navigated to texts first. A few were from Andi, asking if she was okay. One was from David, letting her know he was leaving the hospital in a few days. Two were from Mary, basically saying the same and asking how she was holding up. Heck, even Brad had texted to ask how she was and if she needed anything. The rest of the texts were from Gwen because, of course, they were.
The messages began with a variation of “Are you okay?” and “Call me, like yesterday!” Then Gwen had started sending links to news articles, and Emma’s heart kicked up a few thousand beats per minute.
Hers and Noah’s relationship was officially public.
The turn of events wasn’t unexpected but seeing headline after headline about her had something close to panic tickling the back of her mind. This wasn’t the way any of this was supposed to happen. They were supposed to go to Veranda 62 so that the world could see them together, not this.Thisfelt like a betrayal—and just a tad scandalous, like he’d been “caught” at her house. The fact she’d been in her robe only enhanced the disreputable aspect.
The reason he’d been at her place wouldn’t be lost on anyone with more than half a brain cell.
A particular headline caught her attention:Has Tragedy Tamed the Bachelor Billionaire?
She recognized the gossip rag who’d written it,The Houston Star. They were trash. She told herself to keep scrolling, even as she clicked on the link.
Noah Whitlow III, Houston billionaire and next in line to run the powerhouse Houston company Whitlow Group, may have met his match in attorney Emma Morgan. Reporters caught the lovebirds embracing outside her home after a fire sent them scrambling for safety. Thankfully, both were unharmed, but if this picture is any sign, the billionaire’s heart may still be in danger.
The article continued, but the image accompanying the text melted her heart. Noah had her snuggled against him as they stood outside the crime scene tape erected around her home, and he was pressing a kiss to the top of her head. The photographer had caught them at a perfect moment—a moment that, if she didn’t know better, showed a man utterly terrified and yet immensely grateful to still have the woman he loved in his arms.
Butthatwas a trick of the light, right? Noah cared for her; she accepted that. But he didn’t love her. She wasn’t exciting enough to hold his attention for long. He’d soon grow tired of her, as he’d always seemed to grow tired of the sexy starlets who so often decorated his arm. She was the one in that picture desperately in love, and yet his expression was hard to rationalize away.
An incoming text startled Emma back to reality, and she clicked on the banner that flashed across the top of the screen.
Gwen:
I swear to Oden! If you don’t call or message me back RIGHT now, I’m gonna email every news station and tell them it wasn’t arson that destroyed your house, but that you just spontaneously combusted because your lover was so damn hot!
Emma:
I’m okay. More or less, anyway. I’ll call you back later, okay? I need to contact the detectives in charge of my case, call the insurance company, and about a million other things. *hugs*
Gwen:
Fine. Call me back this afternoon. But I want details!About the fire AND about whether Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Handsome is all the things he is in my imagination.
Emma:
You’ll get ONE of those things.
