Emily Blair told Elizabeth Wilson to head upstairs and wait for her, then stepped aside to take a call.

"Hello? Who is this?"

There was a brief silence on the other end, only the sound of breathing coming through. "Sweetheart, I still can't stop thinking about you."

Emily's expression instantly chilled. "Well, I can. I don't miss you at all.”

She was about to hang up when Larkin Porter's anxious voice cut in, "Wait, don't hang up. I have something to say."

Emily paused for a moment, then decided to let him speak. “Go ahead."

Larkin lowered his voice, "Is your boyfriend with you?"

"He's not here."

"You sure about that?"

"Completely."

Larkin gave a low, damp chuckle. "Since your boyfriend's not around, why don't you come out and have some fun?"

Emily's tone was calm, almost bored. "Didn't you get roughed up enough last time?"

She hadn't made a scene earlier, mostly out of consideration for the company behind Larkin Porter-she didn't want to stir up a bigger mess. But apparently, Larkin still hadn't learned his lesson.

He laughed again. "Sweetheart, come over and give it your best shot. I like you feisty—the wilder you get, the more I want you. Ever since that night at the bar, I haven't been able to get you out of my mind. So, what do you say?"

Emily was silent for a few seconds. "Fine. Tell me where."

“Seriously?” Larkin sounded delighted. “Just tell security you're here for Villa No. 8. I'll be waiting."

Emily's voice was steady. "Alright. Wait for me."

She hung up and quickly texted Elizabeth: **Got something to handle. Be back soon.**

Elizabeth replied with a thumbs-up emoji.

Emily grabbed her things and was out the door in moments.

Villa No. 8 wasn't far; it took her only a few minutes to get there.

She stood at the entrance and rang the bell.

The door swung open almost immediately. Larkin Porter stood there, a smirk on his lips, a fading bruise on his cheek, his eyes burning with a predatory intensity.

"Knew you'd show up, babe," he said, grinning.

He didn't step aside right away. Instead, he leaned out, scanning the area behind Emily with suspicion.

"He's not here," she said flatly.

Larkin clearly didn't trust her, but after making sure Andrew Lane wasn't lurking nearby, he finally moved aside and let her in.

Emily stepped inside, and the door closed behind her.

Larkin's laugh was low and rough as he moved closer. "Let's have some real fun, babe."

Emily turned, raising a hand to keep some distance between them. “Wait."

Maybe because he thought he had her cornered, Larkin was patient-almost playful. "What's wrong, sweetheart?"

She met his gaze, her expression unreadable. "Didn't you say as long as I came, you'd let me hit you?"

Larkin's grin widened. "So you're actually into it?"

Emily said nothing.

To Larkin, her silence was all the answer he needed. His laughter grew, shoulders shaking with anticipation.

When he'd finished, he said, “Alright, I'll let you hit me—but only if we're in bed. You can go as long as you want. Your boyfriend's not here, so we can do whatever we want."

Emily smiled too.

"No need to wait. We can start right now."

Larkin stretched out his hand, delighted. "Alright. Come here."

Emily walked toward him at a measured pace, her expression calm as his smile stretched wider and wider.

Then, without warning, Emily's fist shot up.