Chapter 10 Her Turf Now

Alexander's POV:

The elevator doors slid open on the sixteenth floor, revealing a sea of employees rising from their desks like synchronized swimmers. Their faces registered surprise when they spotted Emma beside me, but they maintained professional composure.

"Good morning, Mr. Sterling," they chorused.

I gave them a brief nod. "Good morning. Continue with your work."

Emma hung back slightly as we exited the elevator. I reached behind me and took her hand, pulling her forward to walk beside me. Several employees' eyes widened at this gesture, their expressions shifting from professional to curious in an instant.

"This is the marketing department," I explained to Emma. "They handle all our advertising campaigns and brand strategy."

As we turned a corner, Emma stumbled slightly and stepped hard on my foot. I heard several gasps from nearby employees who were following our progress with hungry eyes. One woman actually covered her mouth in shock, clearly expecting me to react negatively.

Instead, I steadied Emma by the elbow. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she whispered, looking embarrassed. "But this is your company. People are watching."

I leaned closer to her ear. "This is your company too, Mrs. Sterling."

Emma's cheeks flushed at my words, but she allowed me to continue holding her hand as we proceeded with the tour.

After showing her several departments, I led her to the executive rest area. The space was elegantly designed with plush couches, ambient lighting, and a fully stocked kitchenette.

"We have twenty rest areas throughout the building," I explained, "but this one is the most luxurious."

"I can vouch for that," Jackson's voice came from behind us. He was lounging on one of the sofas, feet propped up on a coffee table. "It's the best in all of New York. No competition. One rest area per person, fully equipped like a five-star hotel room."

Emma rolled her eyes at Jackson's presence. "Were you also forced to come work at Sterling Group? Join the club of parental manipulation victims."

I turned to Jackson with a raised eyebrow. "I was about to ask the same question. What brings you here today?"

"Partnership meeting," Jackson replied with a lazy grin. "Just finished. Thought I'd test out the famous Sterling comfort before leaving." He patted the couch beside him. "Someone has to make sure these couches maintain their standards."

I walked to the kitchenette and poured a glass of water for Emma. When I offered it to her, she shook her head.

"I'm not thirsty."

"Drink it anyway," I insisted. "You need to stay hydrated, especially during your period."

Emma's eyes widened. "How do you know about that?"

"Megan told me," I admitted. "She mentioned you might not be feeling well today."

Emma took the glass reluctantly, muttering something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like "traitor."

After completing the tour of several floors, we returned to my office. Emma immediately collapsed onto the leather sofa, spreading out with her arms and legs extended. Within minutes, her breathing deepened, and she was fast asleep.

Jackson entered the office a short while later and chuckled at the sight of Emma sprawled across the couch.

"Wore her out last night, did you?" he teased.

I shot him a withering look. "She drank too much last night, as you well know. And I'm not the kind of man who takes advantage of an intoxicated woman." I stood up from my desk and moved toward Emma. "I'll carry her to the rest area so she can sleep more comfortably."

As I bent to lift her, Emma's eyes suddenly flew open. Her hand shot up in a defensive fist, narrowly missing my jaw. I caught her wrist mid-air, my reflexes barely fast enough.

"It's me, Emma," I said calmly, holding her wrist gently but firmly.

She blinked rapidly, disorientation giving way to recognition. "Alexander?"

"Damn, Emma," Jackson laughed from across the room. "Were you trying to knock him out?"

Emma sat up, running a hand through her tousled blonde hair. "I have high alertness when I sleep. When you're always getting into trouble, you learn to stay vigilant."

I noticed a flash of something in her eyes—panic, perhaps, or a secret—but it disappeared as quickly as it had come.

Before I could question her further, Emma's phone rang. She glanced at the screen and immediately stood up.

"I need to take this," she said, walking to the far corner of the office. Her conversation was brief, consisting mostly of "yes," "no," and "I'll be there soon."

"I need to go," she announced when she returned. "My friend needs me for something. You can go home without me tonight."

I nodded slowly. "If you've been drinking, call me. I'll come get you."

Emma's expression softened. She bounced up on her tiptoes and planted a quick kiss on my cheek. "Thanks. See you later." Then she was gone, her blonde hair swinging behind her as she strode purposefully toward the elevator.

Jackson waited until the elevator doors closed before speaking. "Well, that was interesting."

I returned to my desk, my mind still on Emma. "What is?"

"The way you two interact. You've known each other, what, a few days? And you're already acting like an old married couple." Jackson studied me for a moment. "Are you sure about her? I mean, really sure?"

"Yes," I replied without hesitation.

"And what about Sophia Rossi? What are you going to do about her?"

I met Jackson's gaze directly. "From the moment I married Emma, she is my wife - my only wife. Now and in the future."

Jackson nodded, a slow smile spreading across his face. "So that's why you two were being so affectionate in the office today. You wanted everyone to know." He paused. "Emma's a good woman. Better than what your background check revealed."

"I agree," I said thoughtfully. "She's wild and loves to have fun, but I don't believe she's completely irresponsible. She graduated from NYU at a young age with a Master's degree in computer security. Still, I haven't found anything suspicious yet."

Later that evening, I received a text from Emma: "Finished drinking. Come pick me up. I'm at Omerta."

When I arrived at the bar, Emma was waiting outside. As she walked toward my car, a silver Porsche pulled up beside her. The driver, a man with sandy blonde hair, rolled down his window.

"Emma North? Is that you?"

Emma turned, her face lighting up with recognition. "Mark Thompson! It's been what, three years?"

"At least," Mark replied with a wide smile. "How have you been? Still getting into trouble?"

"Of course," Emma laughed. "It's my specialty."

I approached them, placing my hand lightly on Emma's lower back. She leaned into me automatically.

"Mark, this is my boyfriend, Alexander Sterling," she said.

Mark's eyes widened. "Mr. Sterling?"

"You know each other?" Emma asked, looking between us.

"Everyone in New York knows Alexander Sterling," Mark replied, extending his hand through the car window. I shook it firmly.

As we were talking, a young woman with auburn hair emerged from the bar and approached Mark's car. "Mark? Are you ready to go?"

"Just a minute, Lisa," he called back before turning to us. "This is my girlfriend, Lisa."

Emma frowned slightly. "Lisa, you look pale. Are you feeling alright?"

Lisa sighed, pushing her hair back from her face. "Not really. I had a bad experience here yesterday. Some drunk asshole tried to grope me."

"At Omerta?" Emma's eyebrows shot up. "I'm surprised Luca allowed that to happen."

"He didn't," Lisa replied. "The security guards spotted it immediately and intervened. The guy was just in there apologizing to me like crazy. They..." she lowered her voice, "they actually castrated him and made him pay me half a million in compensation."

Emma smiled, a knowing look in her eyes. "Well, Mark, take good care of your girlfriend. She's probably still shaken up." She turned to me. "Let's go home, Alex."