The penthouse was quiet when they returned.
Emma kicked off her heels and walked to the window, looking out at the city. The sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink.
Nicholas stood in the doorway, watching her.
"You did well," he said.
"I did nothing. You did everything."
"You stood there and didn't faint." He walked toward her. "That's more than most people can do."
Emma turned to face him. "Were you telling the truth? About me looking at you like you're human?"
Nicholas stopped a few feet away. His face was unreadable.
"I don't know," he said. "Maybe."
"Maybe? Don't tell me you lied."
"I don't lie. I've spent my whole life being feared. Respected. Avoided." He took a step closer. "But you… You look at me like I'm just a man. Like I'm someone who can be hurt."
"Can you?"
"Can I what?"
"Be hurt."
Nicholas was quiet for a long moment. Then he reached out and took her hand, pressing it to his chest. His heart was pounding… fast, strong, alive.
"Apparently," he said.
Emma didn't pull away. She stood there, her palm flat against his chest, feeling his heartbeat under her fingers.
"I'm not going to hurt you," she said.
"You might not have a choice."
"Nicholas…"
"Let's not do this." He released her hand and stepped back. "Not tonight. Not when I'm too tired to pretend I don't feel something."
"Then don't pretend."
He stared at her. The air between them was thick, charged.
"You don't know what you're asking for," he said.
"Then show me."
He didn't move. Didn't speak. Just stood there, looking at her like she was the sun and he had been living in darkness for too long.
"Not yet," he said finally. "When you know me… really know me… if you still want this, then we'll talk."
He walked away, disappearing into his study, closing the door behind him.
Emma stood alone in the living room, her hand still tingling from where she had touched his chest.
When you know me.
She realized, with a start, that she wanted to.