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False Start
Three days of silence felt like an eternity. Emma had perfected the art of avoidance–leaving Franklin’s mansion before Alek’s scheduled visits, screening his calls, responding to texts with clinical one–word
answers,
“This is ridiculous,” Natasha dered, dropping a newspaper on the breakfast table. The gossip section featured the same restaurant photos, now with expanded spection about the Mitchell–Volkov marriage.
“You need to talk to him.”
“I’m busy,” Emma replied, not looking up from herptop where she reviewed team marketing proposals.
“You’re hiding,” Natasha countered. “And my brother is miserable. He’s called me six times asking what you’re saying about him.”
“What am I supposed to say?” Emma finally met her sister–inw’s gaze. “That I found out about his secret dinner with his ex–fiancée from Jack Reynolds? That those photos look exactly like what Jack implied- history repeating itself?”
Natasha pulled out a chair, sitting across from Emma. “Do you honestly believe Alek is cheating on you?”
Emma’s typing paused. “No.”
“Then why are you punishing him like he is?<b>” </b>
“Because he lied to me,” Emma said simply. “Again. After weeks of insisting we needed bettermunication.”
“So tell him that,” Natasha urged. “Instead of this silent treatment that’s making everyone miserable.”
“I will,” Emma closed herptop. “When I’m ready.”
“And when will that be?” Natasha pressed. “After the tabloids run more stories? After Franklin worries himself into another cardiac episode?”
Emma flinched at the mention of her grandfather. He’d been uncharacteristically quiet about the situation, though she’d caught him studying her with concerned eyes over the past few days.
“This afternoon,” Emma decided suddenly. “I’ll talk to him after the board meeting.”
Natasha looked skeptical but nodded. “I’ll hold you to that.”
The Mitchell Industries board meeting rante, as Emma had secretly hoped it would. By <b>the </b>time it concluded, she had a legitimate excuse to postpone the conversation with Alek another day.
She found Franklin waiting in his study, reviewing documents despite his doctor’s orders to limit work hours.
“Productive meeting?” he asked as she copsed into the chair opposite his desk.
“Budget approvals for next quarter.” Emma massaged her temples. “Nothing exciting.”
“Unlike your personal life, which seems to be providing entertainment for the entire city.” Franklin tapped <i>the </i>newspaper on his desk.
Emma sighed. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Evidently not, since you’ve been avoiding Aleksander like he carries gue.” Franklin set aside his reading
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sses. “He was here earlier, you know. Looked like death warmed over.”
Guilt twinged in Emma’s chest. “I was going to call him tonight.”
“Were you?” Franklin looked unconvinced. “Or were you going to find another excuse to postpone the conversation you’re afraid to have?”
“I’m not afraid,” Emma protested. “I’m angry.”
“Same difference, in your case.” Franklin closed the folder he’d been reviewing. “Did I ever tell you how your grandmother and I nearly divorced after only two years of marriage?”
Emma blinked, surprised. “No. You always described your marriage as perfect.”
<b>“</b>It was perfect because we worked at <b>it</b><b>, </b>not because it came easily.” Franklin settled back in his chair “Margaret caught me having lunch with my former secretary–a woman I’d briefly dated before meeting your grandmother. The gossip columns had a field day.”
“What happened?” Emma asked, drawn in despite herself.
“She threw me out of the house for three weeks.” Franklin chuckled at the memory. Wouldn’t take my calls, refused to listen to exnations. Sound familiar?”
Emma fidgeted ufortably. “Maybe slightly.”
“The difference is, we didn’t have someone locking us in an elevator to force a conversation. Franklin pressed a button on his desk phone. “Walter? Is everything ready?”
“Grandpa, what are you-<b>” </b>
“Helping,” Franklin said simply. “Walter has convinced Aleksander toe over to discuss team matters with me. When he arrives, you’ll both take the elevator to the third floor library where I’ve allegedly left some
contracts.”
“You can’t be serious,” Emma protested, rising from her chair.
“Deadly serious.” Franklin’s expression left no room for argument. “The elevator will get conveniently stuck between floors for thirty minutes–plenty of time for a civilized discussion without either of you storming off.” “This is ridiculous,” Emma sputtered. “I’m not a child who needs to be trapped into talking!*
“Then prove it,” Franklin challenged. “Have an adult conversation with your husband without running away.”
Before Emma could formte a response, Walter’s voice came through the inte: “Mr. Volkov has arrived,
sir.”
Emma stood stiffly at the back of the elevator, arms crossed defensively as Alek entered. He looked as surprised to see her as she had been to learn of Franklin’s n.
“Emma,” he said simply, maintaining distance as the doors closed.
“This wasn’t my idea,” she feltpelled to rify as the elevator began to rise.
“Franklin?”
“Who else?” Emma couldn’t help a tiny smile despite everything. “He seems to think we need intervention.” “Maybe we do.” Alek’s voice was rough with fatigue. His usual impable appearance had faltered–stubble darkened his jaw, shadows circled his eyes.
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The elevator shuddered suddenly, lights flickering before stabilizing at half brightness Emergencygnag
activated along the floor.