Chapter 2

　　So he did something he never did: he touched her hand.

　　Ethan looked at his fingers on his own and smiled sadly.

　　"Relax. It's over now.

　　But it didn't sound like it had completely happened.

　　When they finished, the apartment finally felt like home. Emma, grateful and a little emotional, invited him to dinner. They made pasta, ate at the bar, and talked as if they'd known each other for ages. There was no awkwardness. No pressure. Just an eerie calm.

　　At midnight, Ethan got up to leave.

　　"If you need anything, just give me a call," he said at the door. "Boxes, furniture, serial killers, or existential crises. I'm good with three of those four things."

　　Emma smiled.

　　"Which one not?

　　"It depends on the killer.

　　She laughed, and he leaned down to kiss her forehead.

　　A simple gesture. Protective. Familiar.

　　Then he left.

　　Emma closed the door with a smile that made her cheeks ache. For the first time since she moved, she didn't feel so alone.

　　She prepared to sleep, convinced that she would rest better that night.

　　But as soon as she closed her eyes, the darkness was filled with warmth again.

　　This time, the dream smelled of chocolate.

　　And the mouth that was chasing her seemed much more real.

　　Emma woke up with a groan of frustration and murdered the alarm clock.

　　Literally.

　　He threw it against the wall with such force that the device broke into two miserable pieces on the carpet.

　　She sat on the bed, breathing as if she had run a marathon, her nightgown twisted and her hair plastered to the back of her neck.

　　"It can't be," he murmured. "It can't be that now chocolate is ruined for me too."

　　The dream had been worse than the previous ones. Slower. More intense. More cruel. And, as always, it had abandoned her just before the end.

　　She took a cold shower, tidied up the remains of her alarm clock, and got dressed for Parker & Grant Publishing. Jeans, a comfortable shirt, a denim jacket, and her usual Vans. The publishing house was small, creative, and relaxed; thankfully, no one expected heels or impeccable suits.

　　In the underground garage, her red Vespa awaited her, the only crazy thing her mother had ever supported without much argument. Emma adored it. In a city that intimidated her, that scooter gave her a small sense of control.

　　Twenty minutes later she arrived at the publishing house.

　　The cafeteria was filled with murmurs, coffee, and the smell of freshly toasted bread. At a table in the back, Madison Parker raised her hand with exaggerated enthusiasm.

　　Madison didn't just walk through life: she burst into it. She owned the publishing house, was Emma's boss, and was determined to become her best friend even though Emma hadn't signed any document authorizing it.

　　Next to him were Olivia Reed and Caleb Morgan, who had recently returned to work after a traffic accident.

　　"Our little flower has arrived!" Madison sang.

　　Emma sat down with her breakfast and greeted everyone. Caleb recounted the details of the accident: a drunk driver ran a red light and hit him. He had walked away on crutches; the other man was still seriously injured and, if he survived, would face charges.

　　The conversation turned serious for a few minutes, until Caleb pretended to cry as if he were receiving an award for surviving the drama. Everyone laughed.

　　Emma needed that normality.

　　But Madison soon fixed her gaze on her.

　　"And your day off? Did you survive the boxes?

　　Emma thought of Ethan carrying furniture, smiling in her living room and kissing her forehead.

　　"They helped me.

　　Madison opened her eyes.

　　"Did they help you? Who? Man? Woman? Neighbor? Handsome? Breathing?

　　"Madison...

　　"Don't make me extract information through emotional torture. You know I'm capable of it.

　　Emma hid behind her glass of juice.

　　"He's my neighbor. His name is Ethan. He was nice. The end.

　　"That's not the end. That's the prologue.

　　Before Madison could question her further, it was time to start work. They went up to the fourth floor, where the offices of the proofreaders, illustrators, and designers were located.

　　Madison walked arm in arm with Emma as if they were already sisters.

　　"We have a meeting today," he said. "And something new for you."

　　Emma stopped.

　　"New how?

　　"Exciting new.

　　"That means dangerous in your language.

　　Madison smiled like a fairytale villain.

　　"Trust me.

　　Emma arrived at her office with a knot in her stomach. There was a manila envelope on her desk. She opened it slowly.

　　Inside was a manuscript.

　　The title was printed in black letters:

　　Dark Pleasures.

　　Author: Luston.

　　Emma felt a chill.

　　An erotic novel. Another one.

　　And something in that title told him that his dreams had just been given new fuel.

　　Then Olivia poked her head out of the door.

　　"Madison says the meeting starts now.

　　Emma closed the manuscript, but the heat had already risen to her neck.

　　That book wasn't just going to interfere with his work.

　　He was going to get under her skin.

　　The boardroom was almost full when Emma walked in.

　　Madison presided over the table with a smile too bright to be harmless. Caleb settled in with the help of two colleagues, Olivia reviewed notes, and the rest of the team spoke in hushed tones.

　　Emma sat down, trying to go unnoticed.

　　It didn't work.

　　"First," Madison announced, "let's officially welcome Caleb back. We missed you, even when you talked too much."

　　Everyone applauded. Caleb put a hand to his chest and pretended to cry.

　　"Thank you. I promise to continue being unbearable.

　　The laughter eased the atmosphere. But Madison quickly moved on to the real reason for the meeting.

　　"Parker & Grant Publishing is launching a contest for new writers. We want to discover fresh voices, promote them, and publish three winners.

　　The table was filled with excited murmurs.

　　Emma smiled too. The idea was good. Commercial. Clever.

　　Until Madison added:

　　"And the person in charge of coordinating the promotion will be Emma Harper.

　　The world stopped.

　　Emma pointed to her own chest, hoping there was another Emma in the room.

　　It didn't exist.

　　Everyone looked at her with encouraging smiles. She, on the other hand, felt her body urging her to climb out the window.

　　Coordinating promotion meant calls, meetings, negotiating with people, talking to strangers. The whole nightmare package.

　　For the rest of the meeting, Emma barely heard a few words: interviews, radio, sponsorship, schedule, launch. Her mind kept repeating a single phrase: Madison betrayed me.

　　When the room was empty, Emma turned to her boss.

　　"I can't do it.

　　Madison already had the face of a guilty puppy.

　　-Yes you can.

　　"Madison, I get nervous ordering coffee.

　　"That's precisely why you need to do it.

　　"That doesn't make sense.

　　"It makes perfect editorial and emotional sense.

　　Emma crossed her arms.

　　Madison sat down next to her and lowered her voice.

　　"You're brilliant, Emma. You edit as if you could hear the breath of a story. But you hide. Behind the screen, behind your hair, behind that little voice that begs permission to exist. I don't want to change you. I want you to discover that you can take up space."

　　Emma looked away.

　　That phrase came too close.

　　"You won't be alone," Madison continued. "I'm going to guide you. I just need you to take the first step."