Chapter 3 - The Ghost of Exes Past
Nathan stood in the sunlit entryway of Rose & Rye, breathing heavily, his blonde hair slicked back and his polished shoes dusted with street grime. He looked around the bakery, his eyes landing first on the two hulking security guards who had followed him inside, and then on the scene behind the counter.
His eyes widened in shock as he saw Emily pinned against the prep table, wrapped securely in the arms of Adrian Morello.
"Emily?" Nathan stammered, his angry posture faltering slightly under the terrifying stare of the man holding her. "What... what is going on here?"
Emily took a deep breath, feeling Adrian’s arm tighten around her waist like an iron band. "Nathan? What are you doing here? You haven't spoken to me in two years."
"I saw the news!" Nathan said, stepping closer to the display case, his confidence returning as he gestured wildly at his phone. "It's all over Chicago financial blogs! 'Morello Heir Claims Local Baker After Gala Altercation!' I thought it was a joke, Emily! I thought someone used your picture as a meme!"
Emily felt a flash of cold anger ignite in her chest. "A meme?"
"Well, yeah!" Nathan scoffed, looking at Adrian with a mixture of confusion and arrogance. "I mean, look at him! He's Adrian Morello! He drives a two-hundred-thousand-dollar car and runs half the city! Emily, you're... you're a baker! You live in a two-bedroom apartment over a laundromat! You're a size 16!"
The silence that followed Nathan’s words was so thick it felt physical.
One of the security guards near the door reached into his jacket, his hand resting on the grip of his piece, waiting for a single nod from Adrian.
Adrian didn't nod. He gently released Emily’s waist, stepped around the prep table, and walked slowly toward the front counter. His face was entirely devoid of emotion, which made him look infinitely more dangerous.
"You must be Nathan," Adrian said softly.
Nathan puffed out his chest, trying to stand tall, though he was at least three inches shorter and thirty pounds lighter than Adrian. "Yeah. I'm Nathan. I dated Emily for two years. I know her better than anyone."
"Is that so?" Adrian asked, stopping on the customer side of the glass case, resting his large hands on his hips.
"Yes, it is," Nathan said, turning his attention back to Emily, his voice taking on a patronizing, familiar tone that made Emily’s stomach turn. "Emily, listen to me. You're being used. Men like him don't pick women like you for serious relationships. He's probably using you for publicity, or to piss off his ex-fiancée, or because his grandfather wants a 'wholesome' image for the family foundation. When he's done with you, he's going to toss you aside, and your reputation will be completely ruined."
Nathan took a step toward the counter, reaching out a hand. "Come on, Em. I know I made mistakes when we were together, but I always protected you. I never let you get mixed up with dangerous people. I can help you fix this."
Emily looked at Nathan.
She looked at his manicured hands, his expensive coat, his fake, concerned expression. For two years, she had let this man make her feel small. She had let him convince her that his secret, private affection was the best she could ever hope for because of her weight. She had believed him when he implied that no powerful, handsome man would ever want to walk down a red carpet holding her hand.
She looked past Nathan at Adrian.
Adrian wasn't looking at Nathan with jealousy. He was looking at Emily, waiting. He wasn't interfering. He wasn't taking over her voice. He was giving her the floor.
Emily walked around the counter, her steps firm and deliberate. She stopped three feet from Nathan.
"You didn't protect me, Nathan," Emily said, her voice clear and strong. "You hid me."
Nathan blinked. "What?"
"You loved my baking when you wanted free pastries," Emily said, counting off on her fingers. "You loved my apartment when you didn't want to pay rent on your own place. You loved my body in the dark when nobody was watching. But the second someone asked if I was your girlfriend in public, you called me a 'friend' and laughed in my face."
"Em, that was a mistake—"
"No, it wasn't," Emily cut him off, stepping closer until she was standing toe-to-toe with him. "It was who you were. You were ashamed of me because I didn't fit the thin, delicate ideal you thought you deserved. You made me feel like I was taking up too much room in your life."
She glanced over her shoulder at Adrian, whose dark eyes were watching her with fierce, burning pride.
"Adrian Morello doesn't hide me," Emily said, turning back to Nathan. "He doesn't ask me to lose weight. He doesn't ask me to shrink. He stood in front of Chicago's highest society and ruined a business alliance because someone insulted my body. So do not stand in my bakery and pretend you care about my well-being."
Nathan’s face turned bright red with humiliation. "Emily, you're being stupid! He's a mobster! He kills people!"
"He's my man," Emily said clearly, the words surprising even herself as they echoed through the shop. "And you need to leave my store. Right now."
Nathan opened his mouth to argue, but Adrian stepped forward, placing a heavy, terrifying hand on Nathan’s shoulder. His grip tightened just enough to make Nathan’s knees buckle slightly.
"You heard the lady, Nathan," Adrian whispered near Nathan’s ear, his tone dropping into a deadly whisper. "If I ever see your face on Elm Street again, I won't just ruin your reputation. I'll buy the firm you work for, fire you, and make sure you can't get a job delivering newspapers in the state of Illinois. Do you understand me?"
Nathan looked into Adrian’s dark, merciless eyes, felt the bone-crushing pressure on his shoulder, and nodded rapidly, pale as a sheet. "Yes! Yes, I understand!"
Adrian released him, giving him a gentle shove toward the door. "Get out."
Nathan didn't look back. He sprinted out of the bakery, almost tripping over his own expensive leather shoes as he scrambled into the freezing Chicago morning.
The door slammed shut.
Emily stood near the display counter, her chest heaving as the adrenaline slowly drained from her system. She looked down at her flour-dusted hands, feeling a strange, intoxicating sense of freedom.
Two arms wrapped around her from behind, pulling her back against a broad, solid chest. Adrian rested his chin on her shoulder, his warm breath fanning across her neck.
"'His man,' huh?" Adrian murmured, his lips pressing a soft kiss behind her ear. "I like the sound of that."
May you like
Emily closed her eyes, leaning back into his strength. "I can't believe I said that out loud."
"I can," Adrian said, turning her in his arms until she was facing him. He tucked a loose strand of dark hair behind her ear, his thumb brushing against her cheekbone. "You're a Morello woman now, Emily. We take what's ours, and we don't apologize for it."
