Emilia's POV

I take my time, rolling my shoulders like nothing just shifted between us, like I don't feel the phantom grip of her fingers still lingering on my waist. I don't dare look at her again, though. I know if I do, I'll see the storm brewing in her eyes-the mix of panic, anger, and something she's still too stubborn to name.

Instead, I keep walking.

The moment I step away, I notice Claire leaning against the nearest table, arms crossed, a knowing smirk curving her lips. She doesn't say anything right away, just raises an eyebrow like she's waiting for me to speak first.

I exhale, shaking my head. "What?" Her smirk widens. "That was very interesting to watch."

I roll my eyes, but I can't help the small smile tugging at my lips. "You were watching?"

Claire snorts. "Emilia, everyone was watching." She pushes off the table, stepping closer. "I don't think you fully grasp how many people just witnessed you sitting on Valeria Castillo's lap while she looked like she wanted to either murder you or throw you over her shoulder and take you somewhere private."

My stomach tightens at her words, but I refuse to let it show. "She let me stay." Claire's eyes flicker with amusement. "Yeah, and that's exactly why I'm so entertained right now."

I cross my arms, pretending to be unaffected. "It wasn't that big of a deal."

Claire scoffs. "Oh, please. Valeria letting anyone sit on her lap in the middle of a studio is the equivalent of hell freezing over. I was half-expecting the sky to crack open." She leans in slightly, voice dropping into something more amused. "Tell me, was she always that intense, or did you really get under her skin?"

I hesitate for half a second, replaying the way Valeria's fingers twitched against my waist, the way her breath stuttered when I leaned in, the way she went completely still when I reminded her this wasn't private-that everyone saw.

I shrug, feigning nonchalance. "Maybe she just doesn't like Dani."

Claire gives me an unimpressed look. "Nice try." She nudges my arm. "Don't downplay it. You got to her. I saw it."

I bite the inside of my cheek, unwilling to give in. But Claire is right. I did get to her. More than I ever have before.

And that? That means everything. Still, I keep my voice light, playful. "You think she's freaking out right now?"

Claire grins. "Oh, she's definitely freaking out right now."

A warmth spreads through my chest, something smug, something satisfied. I glance back, just for a second, toward where I left Valeria.

She's gone. I turn back to Claire, lips curving. "Good."

Claire laughs. "You're enjoying this way too much."

I arch a brow. "Wouldn't you?"

Claire hums, tilting her head in thought. "Fair point." Then, after a moment, she nods toward the dressing rooms. "But you should probably give her some space. She looked like she was two seconds away from either shutting down completely or making some very reckless decisions."

I tilt my head, curious. "Reckless like...?"

Claire grins. "Like proving a point in a way you wouldn't expect."

I raise a brow, but I don't push. If I know Valeria at all, she's already spiraling, already trying to shove everything down before it gets too real.

That's fine. Let her try. I've got time.

And now? Now I know exactly how to let myself in, I built myself a little door in that huge wall around her heart, and only I, have the key.

Valeria's POV

I don't remember getting up.

One second, Emilia was on my lap, her body pressing into mine, her voice curling around me like smoke-seductive, suffocating, inescapable.

The next, I was standing. Walking. Leaving. I don't know where I'm going. I just know I need to move.

The voices around me are a dull hum, distant, irrelevant. I hear them whispering, murmuring, watching. But none of it matters. Not when my skin still burns where she touched me. Not when my own body feels like a betrayal.

I walk past Claire, barely registering the way she tilts her head, following me with her gaze. I don't stop. I can't. If I stop, I'll think. And if I think-

Fuck.

I turn the nearest corner, finding myself in a narrow hallway away from the cameras, the crew, . My back hits the wall before I even realize what I'm doing, hands clenching into fists, breathing uneven.

This isn't me. This cannot be me.

I don't react like this. I don't lose my grip because of some girl-because of her. But right now, I feel like my ribs are caving in, like she's under my skin and I can't get her out.

Her words echo in my head, taunting me, drowning me.

"You don't have to share, Valeria. I made that clear to everyone here."

I squeeze my eyes shut, my jaw locking.

She did make it clear. In front of everyone.

Dani saw it. Claire saw it. The entire fucking studio saw it. And Emilia-Emilia fucking knew it.

She knew exactly what she was doing. She knew I wouldn't stop her. She knew I wouldn't push her off.

My stomach twists, something sharp and unbearable curling inside my chest. I let her stay. I let her sit there, let her press against me, let her feel how much she gets to me. And now?

Now, she knows she won.

I dig my nails into my palms, inhaling through my nose, forcing the chaos inside me into a tight, contained knot. I just need a minute. Just a second to pull myself together before I go back out there and pretend none of this fucking happened.

I push off the wall, turning toward the exit. My feet just started moving, carrying me through the doors, down the hall, and out into the garden, where the cool night air pressed against my skin like a silent warning.

I needed to breathe. I needed distance. I needed to get the fuck away before I lost the last shred of control I had left.

But the second I step onto the stone path, I hear her.

"Valeria!"

I stop mid-step, my jaw tightening as I close my eyes for a second, swallowing down the sharp frustration clawing up my throat. I don't need this right now. I can't handle her right now.

I turn, slow and deliberate, forcing my face into something unreadable. Emilia is standing a few feet away, arms crossed, her breath coming slightly fast from having caught up to me. Her gaze locks onto mine, unwavering, daring me to keep walking.

I exhale through my nose. "Go back inside." She doesn't move.

Her expression hardens as she steps closer. "What are you doing?" Her voice is low, but there's an edge to it, sharp enough to dig into me. "You promised me."

The words hit harder than they should. I had promised. I told her I'd protect her. I told her I wasn't going anywhere.

And yet, here I am. About to break my own word.

I open my mouth, already searching for something to say, some excuse to justify what I was doing-

Then I see him. A guard stands by the entrance, posture relaxed, eyes sweeping over the garden in a slow, methodical scan. Too methodical.

Something tugs at my memory-a familiarity I can't immediately place. My body reacts before my mind catches up, tensing, every sense sharpening, instincts screaming at me to move.

Where have I seen him before?

My stomach clenches as my gaze flickers back to Emilia. She's still watching me, completely unaware of the sudden shift in my focus.

"Go inside," I say, my voice quieter now, low enough that the guard won't hear.

Emilia frowns. "What?"

I take a slow step toward her, keeping my body calm, controlled, my posture easy. Don't let him notice. Don't let him recognize you.

"Let's go inside," I repeat, forcing my tone into something softer, almost coaxing. "We'll talk."

She doesn't move.

Instead, her frustration spikes. "That's bullshit, Valeria. You were about to leave me-"

Her voice rises, not loud, but too loud for my liking.

My jaw tightens as my eyes flicker back toward the entrance. The guard hasn't looked this way yet, but it's only a matter of time. If he sees me-if he remembers-everything changes.

I don't think. I just move.

My hand comes up, covering Emilia's mouth before she can say another word. She freezes, eyes wide in startled shock.

Before she can react, I scoop her up, lifting her into my arms, one hand supporting her back, the other still covering her mouth.

Her muffled protest vibrates against my palm, her body twisting slightly in my hold, but I don't stop. I don't slow down. I don't explain.

Not out here. Not with him watching.

She kicks lightly against me, her nails digging into my shoulder, but I hold firm, carrying her past the garden, through the doors, past the wide-eyed stares of the lingering crew members.

Claire is standing near the hallway, frozen mid-step as she watches me haul Emilia inside like she's a goddamn hostage.

I ignore her. I push through the nearest door, stepping into an empty room, and kick it shut behind me.

Finally, I release Emilia.

She stumbles slightly as I set her down, spinning around so fast that I barely have time to brace myself before she shoves at my shoulders.

Emilia's voice is sharp, breathless, and pissed as she shoves at my shoulders.

"What the fuck was that?"

I don't answer. I don't even breathe. Because my mind is still caught up in one thing-the guard. The face I almost recognize but can't quite place. My pulse hammers in my ears, drowning out everything else. My hands are still clenched at my sides, my entire body too tense, my muscles tight with the instinct to move, to act, to get the fuck out of here before it's too late.

I don't realize I've turned toward the door, my body shifting into defense, until the door swings open. Someone steps inside. I react before I think.

My body snaps into action, pivoting toward the intruder, my hands already lifting to grab, to pin, to stop whatever threat is coming my way-

Emilia moves faster.

She steps between us, her palm pressing flat against my chest, stopping me before I can do something I might regret. Her other hand lifts slightly, fingers spread in a quiet, steadying gesture.

"Valeria," she says, voice softer now, careful. "Breathe."

My chest is tight, my lungs locked, but I try. I force a slow inhale, force the tension in my shoulders to ease-only slightly-as my gaze flickers over Emilia's head to see who the hell just walked in.

Claire. Of course.

She stands just inside the room, arms crossed, brow raised, completely unfazed. She's watching me, not Emilia, her expression unreadable.

"I see we're having a bit of a crisis," she says, voice dry.

Emilia doesn't turn to look at her. She keeps her palm pressed against me, her presence solid and deliberate, holding me in place, keeping me from reacting the way I want to.

"Claire," Emilia says, her voice calm but firm. "Get out."

Claire lets out a low whistle. "Well, that's rude."

"Claire." Emilia's tone sharpens, but her touch remains light against my chest. "Out. Now."

For a second, Claire doesn't move. She just watches. Me. Emilia. The space between us, the tension pulling too tightly around the room.

Finally, with a small, knowing hum, she tilts her head. "Alright, alright. I'm going." She takes a step back, reaching for the doorknob. But before she opens it, she glances at me one more time. "Try not to kill each other with orgasms." Then, with a flick of her wrist, she's gone.

The door clicks shut. Silence settles.

Emilia doesn't move. Neither do I.

The weight of her hand is still on my chest, light but grounding, like she's afraid if she moves too soon, I might snap. The worst part?

She's probably right. I take another slow breath, steadying myself, pushing down everything I want to say.

Emilia finally speaks, her voice quiet but unrelenting. "What's wrong?"

I hesitate, my jaw locking. I don't want to tell her. I don't want to pull her into this-into whatever the fuck is happening. But she already is, isn't she? She's standing right here, her hand on me, looking at me like she already knows I'm not okay.

I swallow hard. My voice is low when I finally answer. "There was a guard outside," I say. "I think I know him."

Emilia's brow furrows. "Know him how?"

I shake my head. "I don't remember." My fingers twitch at my sides. "But it's not good."

Emilia stares at me for a moment, her eyes searching mine like she's trying to put the pieces together herself.

She takes a step back, arms crossing over her chest. "Okay," she says. "So what do we do?"

Not what do I do. What do we do. My throat tightens.

I exhale. "I need to figure out who the hell he is."

Emilia nods, her gaze steady. "Then I'm helping you."

I shake my head. "No, you're-"

"I'm helping you," she repeats, final and unwavering.

I bite the inside of my cheek. This is a bad idea. Emilia shouldn't be involved in this. But the way she's looking at me, the way her entire posture is set-she isn't giving me a choice.

I sigh, dragging a hand over my face. "Fine," I mutter. "But we do this my way."

She smirks, tilting her head. "Wasn't planning on it any other way."

God, she's infuriating. Emilia doesn't move. Neither do I.

I take a slow breath, steadying myself, forcing down the instinct to react-to fight, to run, to do anything but stand here and let her see just how much I'm unraveling.

Finally, Emilia lowers her hand and crosses her arms, tilting her head slightly as she studies me. Then-because she is incapable of shutting up when she should-she says it.

"You know, if you wanted to sweep me off my feet, you could have just asked."

My jaw tightens instantly.

Emilia smirks, shifting her weight slightly, watching me with that familiar glint of amusement in her eyes. "I mean, I knew you were strong, but that was-what? Effortless? You barely even broke a sweat."

I exhale sharply, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Emilia."

She grins. "Not to mention, it was kind of hot."

I drop my hand, staring her down, expression blank. "Do you have a death wish?"

She bites her lip like she's actually considering the question. "Depends on how are you planning to kill me" . Then she shrugs. "I just think it's fascinating that you didn't even hesitate. You were all 'shut up' and 'get over here', and then-boom! You were carrying me off like I was some helpless little thing."

"You are a helpless little thing," I mutter, dragging a hand down my face.

Emilia gasps, dramatic and fake. "Wow. You're not even denying it?"

"I'm ignoring it."

She hums, clearly unbothered. "Well, for what it's worth," she says, her voice dipping just slightly, "I trust you."

The air shifts. It's subtle, but it happens.

I look at her, and for the first time since dragging her back inside, she isn't teasing. Her smirk is still there, but softer now. Less mocking, more real.

"If things went bad," she continues, "I know you'd protect me."

Something in my chest tightens painfully, but I don't let it show.

Instead, I shift my weight slightly, rolling my shoulders. "That's your first mistake."

She raises a brow. "Trusting you?"

I nod.

Emilia smiles, her expression impossibly smug. "Yeah, well. Too late for that."

I don't have a response for that. Because she's right. Her trust is already there-fully formed, unwavering, terrifying.

She stretches, letting out a soft sigh before shaking her head. "Still, you could've at least let me enjoy the moment before tossing me down like I was a sack of potatoes."

I scowl. "I didn't-"

But she cuts me off with a hand wave, mockingly dismissive. "Nah, nah, it's fine. I get it. You're brooding. You were in serious protector mode." Then, with a mocking flutter of her lashes, she sighs dramatically and says, "My hero."

I close my eyes, inhaling slowly as I count to five in my head.

Do not kill her.

Do. Not. Kill. Her.

When I open my eyes, she's grinning, clearly delighted by how much she's annoying the hell out of me. And for some goddamn reason, I can't find it in me to snap at her. Because beneath the teasing, beneath the way-too-smug-for-her-own-good expression, she meant what she said.

She trusts me.

And I don't know what the fuck to do with that. So I do the only thing I can. I turn away, pretending like this conversation never happened.

"Go sit down," I mutter.

Emilia smirks. "Yes, ma'am."

I grit my teeth. I'm going to kill her.

But not today.

Maybe tomorrow... Maybe