The red mark on his cheek grew darker and more pronounced.
Tristan Davis was breathing hard, his chest heaving with a storm of tangled emotions—regret, helplessness, irritation, jealousy—all crashing together inside him, making every inch of his body ache.
It was Emily Blair’s slap that jolted him back to his senses.
The moment he realized how he’d treated her—what he’d said and how he’d said it—he was consumed by an overwhelming wave of remorse.
Right now, Tristan wished he could march straight back into the office and let Emily slap him a few more times, just to let her vent her anger.
How could he have said those things to her?
How could he?
Now that his reason had returned, all he could do was loathe himself for losing control in front of the girl he loved, for forgetting his manners, for blurting out words that only drove a wider, more hopeless distance between them.
For the first time, Tristan saw himself as nothing more than a brute, undeserving of forgiveness.
He bowed his head, pressing both palms hard against his forehead, and exhaled shakily.
Emily must have been truly furious.
He had never seen her so sharp, so cold—not even when she had confronted employees who betrayed the company’s secrets. She hadn’t been this angry then.
He had really let her down this time.
Just thinking about it made every bone in his body ache, as if the guilt had seeped right into his marrow.

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