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She's afraid of something else. I just need to figure out what the fuck it is so I can eliminate the problem.
"One of these days, you're going to stop tellin' me no, Emma," I say quietly.
"Yes. The day you finally quit asking!" she cries, exasperated. "Honestly, Zayne. I'm pretty sure this is harassment at this point."
"Is it?"
"I don't know. I'm not a lawyer." We both know it probably is, but the fact that she doesn't say it gives me hope. Deep down, she fucking loves talking to me. She's just hellbent on denying it.
"I've got another question for you, then."
Her long-suffering sigh has me grinning ear-to-ear again. She's sassy as hell, though she'd never admit it. "You ask more questions than most toddlers, Zayne."
"How else am I supposed to get to know the woman I'm going to marry?"
"You aren't. I mean, we aren't getting married." She huffs. "Stop bugging me. I have work to do."
"I haven't asked my question."
"You just asked the question."
"That was a question, lamb. It wasn'tthequestion." I tip back in my chair, rocking it back and forth.
"Fine. Ask so I can do my job. Yours may be harassing people on the phone all day, but I have big girl stuff to do."
"Oh, yeah? Like what?"
"Stuff," she mumbles.
"That wasn't my question, either."
"Oh my God!"
I laugh loudly as she thumps the receiver against the desk. Talking to her is, hands down, the best fucking part of my day. I just wish like hell she'd stop running so I could do it more often.
"Ask your question, Zayne Carmichael," she says. "Before I figure out a way to strangle you through this phone."
"Do you really want me to stop askin', or are you just afraid to find out that dating me is the best decision you ever made?" I sit forward in my chair, praying to God she doesn't tell me that she wants me to quit asking. I'll respect her wishes if it's what she really wants, but I don't think it is. No, Iknowit isn't. I'm just not sure why she's fighting so fucking hard.
She hesitates for so long I'm a little worried she hung up on me. And then she gives me the only answer I need.
"Don't stop."
Chapter Three
Emma
"Whyintheworldare you under your desk?" Camila asks, amusement lacing her tone as she tips sideways to peer at me like an owl.
"Shh!" I hiss, waving her away before she gets me busted. It took me ten minutes to squeeze my curvy ass under here. If Zayne finds me because she gave away my hiding spot, I'm quitting.
Okay, that's not true. I love my job and my boss. But I'll be forced to take some sort of drastic action to escape the crazy man. He won't leave me alone. Ever since Camila hired his private security firm, he's become my own personal number twenty-three. He's everywhere, all roads leading back to him.
He keeps telling me that I need to stop fighting and accept that we're going to happen.
Who says that?! Crazy people, that's who.
The first time he said it, I figured he was just being dramatic since I turned him down for a date the day we met. Except, it's been a month, and he still hasn't given up.
