Doctor Emma Charlotte Phillips' path crosses with the path of the ruthless leader of a secret organization, Damian Nicholas King after he botches her attempt to take her own life.
*Completed*
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Emma bolted upright. Her breathing was laboured and tears were streaming down her face. Reaching across she turned the bedside lamp on and glanced at the watch that laid next to the lamp. Realizing that it was two in the morning, Emma switched the lamp off. She didn't want to disturb Damian or the dog.
"Emma, what's wrong?" She heard Damian ask. His voice was raspy and it was evident that she had disturbed him from his sleep.
"I'm alright. Just a bad dream," she muttered. Her voice was barely audible.
Damian swung his legs off the couch and moved towards the bed. He sat at the edge of the bed. In the dark, he reached for a tissue from the bedside table and wiped her tear-soaked cheeks. With gentle hands, he enclosed her palm and began rubbing in small circles.
"Go to sleep Emma. I'll stay with you until you fall back asleep," he promised.
Emma shifted down on the bed in an attempt to make more room available.
"Stay with me until I wake up?" She asked as she patted the empty space.
Damian sighed and slipped under the covers next to her. He kept a space between them but Emma shifted closer to him almost obliterating the space.
"I didn't dream about him," Emma revealed. "I haven't dreamt about him in while."
"What did you dream about then?" Damian pulled her closer to him. "Uncomfortable?" He asked in an attempt to find out whether or not he needed to put the space back between them.
"No." She rested her head on his sturdy chest. His strong heartbeat echoed in her ears. "My father and mother died today," she whispered. "But you know that already right?"
"Why don't you tell me about it?" He suggested.
"I was only about six months old when they died. They apparently left me at home alone in my crib to go to a Christmas eve party. The neighbours heard me crying and called the police. I don't know how they died. I just know that they died on Christmas day. I've never had the courage to find out. Do you know how they died?" She fisted his t-shirt.
"Yes," Damian whispered against her hair. "Do you want to know how they died?"
Emma shook her head. "No. Don't tell me that. I don't hate them and I do not want to hate them. If I find out how they died, it might taint my resolve. Tell me something else. I can't get the thought of them out of my head."
"I got you a Christmas gift," he told her. "You'll get it in the morning after breakfast."
"Really? You got me a gift?" A quiet yawn escaped her lips.
He hummed in response.
"As in you you actually got me a gift? You actually chose something for me?" She asked in disbelief.
