Chapter 424

Emily Blair decided there was no point beating around the bush any longer.
“I mean, you still owe-”
Tristan Davis suddenly looked ready to leap out of his skin. His face darkened as he interrupted her. “Don’t think I’m going to throw myself at you just because you helped me. Yes, you took me to the hospital. I owe you. But that doesn’t mean you can steal my ID or use it to do things I don’t want to do.”
Emily blinked. Wait, what exactly does he think I’m up to? I just wanted to pay your hospital bill—what on earth is going through your head?
She nearly rolled her eyes. In her mind, she was shouting: I only took your ID so I could pay for your treatment! What do you think I’m planning?
Tristan’s gaze flickered across her face, again and again, before he finally jerked his eyes away. His voice was stiff and awkward. “You’re pretty, I’ll give you that. But that doesn’t give you the right to do whatever you want. I’m not going to fall for you just because you saved me, and I’m definitely not agreeing to any of your… your crazy ideas.”
Was she supposed to laugh at that?
Emily pulled her lips into a half-hearted smile and sighed. “What crazy ideas? What are you talking about?”
Tristan shot her a glare. “You tell me.”
Like she was still pretending not to know after taking his ID. Who was she trying to fool?
Tristan sneered inwardly. No way was he following Emily Blair to some hotel room. “I’ll pay you back for the medical bills-double, even.” He stalked over, scowling, and held out his hand. “But you have to give my ID back first.”
Each of his words pounded in Emily’s head, making her dizzy.
The moment she heard him mention paying her back, she immediately returned his ID. She handed it over without thinking, not noticing that the tips of her fingers brushed against his palm, or that his fingers curled reflexively at the contact.
Waving him off weakly, she muttered, “Just pay me back. I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
She could swear his scowl deepened.
Tristan turned, tossing over his shoulder, “Wait here.”
Emily leaned her forehead against the wall and bumped it a few times, trying to snap herself out of the daze.
“Sweetheart, don’t hurt yourself,” came a voice drifting up from the stairwell.
Startled, Emily spun around.
A middle-aged woman in a plain cardigan gave her an apologetic smile as she climbed the stairs. She looked at Emily with a mixture of exasperation and concern —the kind only an experienced neighbor could muster.
“Oh, darling, there are plenty of fish in the sea. If this one turned you down, just move on-there are so many men out there. You’re still young, no need to hang yourself over one tree when there’s a whole forest waiting for you. You’ll find someone who says yes, I promise.”
The woman drew closer, her tone earnest and motherly. “There’s no need to hurt yourself over a man, sweetheart. If you really want to date, I can introduce you to my nephew. How about that?”
Emily was dumbstruck.
This was Isla, the neighbor from upstairs—famously warm, notoriously chatty, the undisputed gossip queen of the whole block. There wasn’t a soul in the neighborhood who hadn’t heard one of her stories, or been the subject of her well- meaning meddling.
Emily couldn’t be sure how long Isla had been lurking downstairs, but she was certain of one thing: by tomorrow, everyone in the building would have heard about her and Tristan Davis-how she’d been rejected and was now so heartbroken she’d started banging her head against the wall.
Emily snapped into damage control mode. “No, Isla, you’ve got it wrong. I wasn’t rejected—I mean, I didn’t even confess or anything. There’s nothing between me and him.”
Isla just gave her that knowing look and patted her shoulder. “It’s all right, honey, I get it. Don’t be embarrassed. You’re young and beautiful, you’ll find someone just relax.”
Emily’s voice grew desperate. “No, really, that’s not what I meant, I just—”
“Oh, you poor thing, it happens to everyone. I won’t tell a soul, promise!” Isla
beamed, her eyes twinkling with mischief.
Emily tried again, “But I didn’t—”
“Don’t worry, don’t worry,” Isla sang out, cutting her off cheerily.