My Great Escape Led Me to You (Emily Blair) novel Chapter 915

“I’ve never heard you mention him before,” Albert Rivera said. “Are you two together or something?”

Emily Blair’s mind went blank for a split second, but she quickly shook her head, waving her hands. “No, no, nothing like that. We’re just friends. Why would you even think that?”

Albert didn’t bother to explain his question. Instead, he just smiled with a shrug. “Just a wild guess. If you’re not, then that means I still have a shot.”

Emily let out a slightly awkward laugh.

“Well, I should get going. You two should head home too—it’s getting late.”

Emily nodded and said goodbye.

Albert slid into the back seat of his car, but before the door closed, he glanced back at where Emily had been standing.

She was facing away from him as Tristan Davis slowly approached her, coming out from the company entrance.

Even from a distance, Albert could sense the tension in Tristan’s posture and the stormy look on his face.

The two of them grew smaller in Albert’s view as the car pulled away, and he finally turned forward, letting out a long, slow breath.

God, he hoped his instincts were wrong. He really wanted things to work out with Emily.

As Tristan drew closer, Emily’s ride pulled up to the curb in front of her.

She moved to open the door. “You should go on home,” she said.

But Tristan didn’t answer. Instead, he reached out—his arm braced against the door, swinging it shut again before she could get in.

He was standing far too close. His chest and shoulders practically filled her vision. Instinctively, Emily stepped back until she bumped against the closed car door.

Her mind went a little fuzzy. She found it hard to breathe and blinked a few times, trying to steady herself. “…What are you doing? Why’d you close the door?”

Tristan’s hand remained pressed against the door above her shoulder.

She lifted her arm, meaning to push him away, but before she could, his other arm came up, bracing on the opposite side—effectively trapping her between his arms, his broad chest, and the car door at her back.

He lowered his head, gaze steady and quiet, just watching her.

Pinned in place, Emily tried to lean back as far as she could, but there was nowhere left to go. All she could do was meet Tristan’s eyes.

“…What’s this supposed to be? Are you trying to reenact some cheesy TV drama scene?”

At last, Tristan spoke. His voice was low, almost gravelly.

“Emily.”

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