Sting walked with purpose through the Impact Zone. As he crossed the corridor crew and wrestlers alike quickly moved out of his way. They watched after him with apprehension, leery of what he was going to do.
It had been a week since he had gone after Emma. During that time he had made himself scarce; instead choosing to stay home and bide his time. He had done a lot of planning in that week and he only hoped some good would come from it.
He had vowed that the second he saw her he would apologize. He knew it wouldn't be easy. She was so afraid of him she might run, screaming for the hills, the second she saw him.
He grew thoughtful. Maybe not. She wasn't a coward, from what he had gathered. If he approached her carefully there was a chance she would stay and listen to what he had to say.
And if she didn't. . .Well, he'd cross that bridge when he came to it.
He slowly drew to a stop, spotting Emma. She was standing a few feet ahead of him, oblivious to what was going on around her. Her nose was buried in her ever present clipboard.
Emma glanced over her clipboard, going over the notes for that night's show. Seemingly content with what she had read she lifted her head and started to make her way back to Eric's office.
As she did she spotted AJ and Chris Sabin coming from the opposite direction. She slowly came to a stop as they did the same, the two wrestlers blocking her way.
She looked up at them, feeling uneasy. She really didn't want to get into any more confrontations.
AJ glanced down at the ground, contemplating something. When he turned back to her he appeared almost hesitant.
"Hey, I just wanted to tell you I'm sorry." he replied, sincere, "I'm sorry I doubted you."
Emma blinked, surprised. That was the last thing she expected.
She found herself smiling up at him and said truthfully, "It's all right."
"Yeah?" AJ was amazed that she could be so understanding.
"Yeah." Emma nodded and even offered a light laugh, "The evidence against me was pretty damning."
"Yeah, well," AJ looked down at the ground before turning back to her, "I'm just glad the truth came out."
He extended his hand, "No hard feelings?"
"No hard feelings." Emma smiled and shook his hand, "And thanks, AJ."
"Yeah." AJ gave her hand a pat before he and Sabin went on.
Emma stayed were she was, her smile growing as her eyes grew wistful. Maybe things were actually starting to work out.
"Hey, Emma, can we talk?"
Emma blinked, coming out of her thoughts. She turned around and suddenly her smile froze on her lips. It began to fade away only to be replaced with a look of alarm. She found she was rooted to the spot, unable to move.
Sting, wearing street clothes and his face paint, made his way over to her. He took note of her obvious fear and he cursed himself. He had done this to her. He had nobody to blame but himself.
He came to a stop a few feet from her, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides due to anxiety. Emma's eyes slowly traveled to those hands before returning to his face. She regarded him cautiously, holding her clipboard to her chest as though it were some kind of shield. She didn't speak.
"I, uh. . ." he offered a nervous laugh and ran a hand through his hair, "This was much easier in my head."
He grew serious and gave her his full attention, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for what I did to you last week. You didn't deserve it."
Emma remained silent. Truthfully, she didn't know what to say. Or think. After being witness to all of Sting's bravado, and all of his anger, seeing him now before her, appearing almost hesitant. . .well she didn't know what to make of it.
Was he being sincere? Did he truly mean what he was saying?
Or was this all another one of his schemes? Another one of his mind games?
Emma took a small step back. As much as he appeared sincere and as much as she, surprisingly, wanted to believe him she just couldn't. The seeds of doubt were still there, laying fresh in her mind.
"Sure." she found herself saying as she took another step back, "No problem. Um, thanks."
Before Sting could say another word she turned on her heels and briskly walked back down the hall.
He watched after her, frustration welling up inside him. He didn't blame her for being leery. She would have been stupid not to be after everything he had put her through.
But that still didn't stop him from wanting to go after her, take hold of her and make her hear him out.
He turned away and sighed, raking his hands through his hair.
Yeah, it was definitely time for Plan B.
.
.
.
.
.
Emma finished closing out the office later that night. After the computer was shut off and all the files were stored away she grabbed her purse and hit the lights.
Slinging her bag over her shoulder, she began to make her way down the hall and towards the employees' parking lot. All she wanted to do was to go home, soak in the bathtub and put the entire night out of her mind.
She was almost to the back entrance when Tori, one of the show's stagehands, came running up to her, her blonde ponytail flying behind her.
"Emma, wait up!" she called out, out of breath, as she raced over to her.
Emma drew to a stop and turned to look at her in curiosity. It was then that she noticed the other woman was holding an envelope.
"Hi, Tori." Emma greeted her before nodding towards the envelope, "I didn't forget a paycheck, did I?"
"No." Tori handed her the envelope and explained, "This was left in the production office for you. It looks important."
Emma took it, her eyes narrowed in thought, "Oh. Well thanks. Have a good night."
"You, too." Tori gave her a parting smile before heading off.
Emma promptly opened the envelope and pulled out the letter within. As she began to read it her eyes started to constrict.
Emma,
Come to 1478 E. Ocean Drive as soon as you finish up at
the Impact Zone. The limo is waiting outside for you.
- Eric
PS - This isn't a request.
Ugh! What could he possibly want now? She closed her eyes and sighed, crumbling up the letter in her hand.
She just wanted to go home, have her bath and bury her head under her blankets. She didn't want to have to deal with Eric and another one of his stunts.
She opened her eyes and began to stalk towards the exit. Sure enough, as she stepped outside she found a long, black limousine waiting for her.
The driver quickly emerged from the car and hurried around to the back to open the door for her.
"Ms. Sheffield." he nodded to her as she approached.
"Where are we going?" Emma questioned him.
She had only been in Florida for six months and the address in the letter wasn't familiar to her. If she had some idea of where she was going maybe it could help prepare her.
"I'm not at liberty to say." was the only answer the driver would give.
Emma looked up at him suspiciously. Everything in her was screaming for her to forget it and leave. But then she remembered the end of the letter. She had no choice.
She climbed in and settled back against the seat. The driver quickly climbed in and started the car. Within seconds they were pulling out of the lot and heading down the street.
As they traveled Emma looked out the window, trying to get an idea of where they were going. She hated to admit it, but the arena didn't look familiar to her.
It was then that she came to a decision. Where ever he was taking her, as soon as she got there, and if it wasn't on the up and up, then she was going to tell Eric off and leave. And that would be that.
About twenty minutes later the limo finally drew to a stop and the driver hopped out. He hurried around to the back and opened the door, extending his hand to Emma.
She took it and allowed him to help her out of the car. As she stepped out she looked up, eyes widening in surprise.
Before her was one of Orlando's upscale restaurants, Giovanni's Bistro. Though Emma, herself, had never been there she had heard a few of the Knockouts talk about it. They had gushed over how extravagant and luxuriant it was.
She entered the clearly expensive restaurant. It was tastefully decorated with archways and marble pillars. Lavish, crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling. The carpet underneath her feet felt lush and there was even a fireplace residing before a small dance floor.
She noticed a lone table in the center of the room, expensively decorated with fine china and crystal. There was even a centerpiece adorned with two of her favorite flowers, white and sterling silver roses, set up in the middle of the table.
A lone figure was seated at the table, but their chair was turned around, obscuring her view of them.
Emma sighed with irritation as she approached. She didn't care how much money Eric had spent on the evening, or that he had managed to find out her favorite types of flower. She didn't want to be there. And she wasn't going to stay.
"Eric, for the last time," she muttered as she stepped up to the table, "I'm not interested in you, romantically or otherwise. I'll never be interested. I just want to do my job and be done with it."
Suddenly the chair turned around and Emma blinked, stunned.
Sitting there, grinning up at her, was Sting. And he had gone all out for the evening. He was decked out in a red suit, black shirt and red silk tie. And to top it off he was wearing his Insane Icon face paint.
Emma was floored. He was definitely the last person she expected.
She began to look around, instantly feeling uneasy. This wasn't going to be good, she was sure of it.
"Emma," Sting greeted her with a flourish of his arm, "Good of you to come. Have a seat."
Emma bit her lip, contemplating her options. On one hand, she was worried about what he would do if she tried to leave.
But on the other, she had to admit she was really curious to see what he had up his sleeve.
She slowly sank into her chair, her eyes nervously darting about the room.
"What are you doing?" Sting propped his elbows up on the table and put his chin in his hands as he regarded her with interest.
"Isn't this the part where Batman comes crashing through the ceiling?" she quipped dryly.
Sting began to laugh uproariously, slapping the table with mirth. The crystal wine glasses danced from the impact but luckily didn't topple over.
"Oohhh!" he wiped at his eyes with his cloth napkin, "That was a good one."
"Glad you enjoyed it." Emma deadpanned, still unsure.
Sting reached over and picked up one of the glasses, offering it to her, "A drink, my dear?"
Emma looked from it to him and began to smirk, "You're kidding, right?"
"Suit yourself." Sting set her glass down and reached for his own.
He took a healthy drink, grinning at her. Suddenly his face contorted and he began to cough, grabbing at his throat.
Emma jumped to her feet. She looked over at him in alarm, unsure of what to do.
Sting unexpectedly stopped choking and started to laugh, pointing at her, "You should see your face!"
Emma realized it was all a joke and she slowly sank back into her chair. She bit her lip, debating if maybe she should have left, consequences be damned.
Sting once again handed her the glass. Emma hesitantly took it, examining it carefully. Well it looked all right.
She took a small sip and paused, her eyes widening.
"White grape juice." she announced in surprise.
"Your favorite." Sting grinned at her.
Emma arched an eyebrow in silent question.
Sting removed the lid from her plate, revealing chicken and broccoli penne with alfredo sauce. One of her favorite foods.
"Bon appetit!" he announced as he removed the lid from his own dish.
Emma looked down at it, confused and cautious.
She turned back to him and offered an unsettled smile, "So what's in it? Ipecac? Laxatives?. . .Arsenic?"
"Here I have your favorite meal prepared and you're not even going to eat it?" Sting huffed, "Man, are you ungrateful!"
When she still refused he picked up his fork and plucked a healthy portion from her plate, taking a big bite of it.
"It's fine." he assured her, nodding, "In fact, it's pretty darn good."
Emma refrained, though, still wary. She didn't trust him. Not after everything that had happened. She didn't care if he did apologize. She didn't believe him and was sure he was planning something.
She leaned forward and demanded, "What is this about, Sting? Be honest."
Sting stopped eating and stared at her with thoughtful eyes. He ran his thumb over the prongs of his fork as he regarded her silently.
He didn't blame her for being leery. After everything he had done to her, he would have felt the same way. He knew he had to take it nice and slow or else he'd only end up spooking her again.
He glanced down at the table and motioned to it with a sigh, "This was just my way of apologizing to you."
"You're forgiven." Emma replied dryly, "Can I go now?"
Sting looked over at her, annoyed at the situation. He knew it wouldn't be easy but did she have to make it so difficult?
"You can relax, M&M." he tried to reassure her, "You don't have to be afraid of me."
"Oh really? Are you sure about that?" Emma scoffed, "And why do you keep calling me that?"
Sting began to grin, "Because you're bite size."
And he snapped his teeth at her before laughing.
When she didn't return the express he grew serious. Leaning forward, he stared at her earnestly, "I just wanted to show you how sorry I am. I am sorry, Emma."
He lightly tapped his hand against the surface of the table, uncomfortable as he went on, "I've been betrayed more times than I can count in this business. It's made it hard for me to trust. And the fact that you're working for Bischoff-"
"I'm not working for Eric." she cut him off, "Not the way you think. Look, I'm just an assistant, okay. I get coffee, make copies and check and make sure that the shows are running the way Eric wants."
She sighed, "I just want to put in my time and then I'll be out of your hair."
Emma blinked, realizing that she might have said too much. She picked up her own fork and nervously poked at the dish. She skewered a piece of chicken and carefully took a bite of it. Her eyes lit up with pleasure. She had to admit it was fabulous.
She was just about to tell Sting just that when she noticed he was looking at her with narrowed eyes. He was thinking about what she had said, she was sure of it.
"What did you mean by that?" he inquired, casually pointing at her with his fork, "Put in your time?"
"Nothing." Emma shrugged, trying to act nonchalant, "It's just a saying."
She glanced over at him. He wasn't buying her explanation. She bit her lip, conflicted. She knew she should have kept it to herself. There was no way he could understand. He wasn't even stable, for goodness sakes.
And he wasn't stable because of what Eric and Immortal had done to him. They had pushed him so far that he had had to step outside the box to deal with them.
That gave her reason to pause.
Maybe he could understand. Maybe he was the one person who would understand more than anyone else.
The truth was, she was so tired of having to deal with all of this on her own. Every day the pressure seemed to get greater. Every day she could feel the weight of it just a little bit more.
She knew she had to confide in someone. Trust someone.
She just never imagined it would be the man sitting across from her.
"Ever since I was four-years-old I've wanted to be a writer." she offered him a weak smile as she began, "My mom used to cuddle with me on the couch and she would say, 'Tell me a pretty story' and I would tell her these outlandish tales of princesses and princes. Knights and dragons. Worlds were good won out over evil and love conquered all.
"And I continued to tell those stories until I learned to write." Emma went on, "And then I wrote them down."
A faraway look came to her eyes and she murmured, "Writing. . .it's my one great passion. The only time I ever truly feel alive. It's my way of finally coming out of my shell and putting everything I am, all the joy, all the fear, all the wishes and desires and dreams, everything. . .out. Out and on paper."
She shrugged, embarrassed, "I know it sounds silly-"
"No." Sting shook his head, "No, it doesn't. I get it."
She glanced over at him in hesitation and he explained, "I feel the same way about wrestling. I get in that ring and I feel the red blood cells start pumping through my veins. I hear the noise of the crowd, feel their energy, and it goes through me like electricity. I go out there night after night and I put it all out on the line. I feel so alive!"
She slowly began to smile at him. He did understand. The way he felt about wrestling was exactly how she felt about writing.
Sting took in her smile, his own growing. It encouraged him. Maybe she was finally loosening up.
Emma took another bite of her dish before going on, "Anyway, a few years ago I got a job in a bookstore."
She smiled, "A dream job for me, of course. I got to study other authors, read books on writing. It was great!"
Sting grinned at that, charmed by her excitement. He liked seeing the way her eyes lit up as she talked about her past.
However her smile faded as she grew sad, remembering, "Anyway, one night my friends and I went to a party. And I met Eric Bischoff."
Sting's grin instantly disappeared at the sound of the Impact owner's name. So just what part did Bischoff play in all of this?
"I knew who he was." Emma explained, "I've been a wrestling fan since I was a little girl. Anyway, I was really surprised when he approached me."
Sting's eyes narrowed in thought. She was a wrestling fan? He would have never guessed her to be a fan. In fact, that was the last thing he expected. She always seemed so down about being at Impact.
"We started talking and I told him I was a writer trying to break into the business." Emma went on, "And Eric. . .well he said he was looking to branch out. He had been producing reality shows for awhile and he wanted to try something new. He had tried his hand at the publishing world, writing his own book and all, and he wanted to get more involved with it."
"So he told you he wanted to be your agent." Sting surmised.
Emma nodded, frowning, "Yeah. He wanted to see some of my work. I thought it was a dream come true so I jumped at it. I showed him the three manuscripts I had finished."
She leaned in, heartfelt, "These were stories I had worked on for years. Late nights agonizing over just the right words. Endless weeks of writer's block when I was sure I would never finish another line, let alone another chapter. All my emotions poured into those pages. Stories that I had painstakingly gone over again and again until I was sure they were perfect. All of my hopes, fears and tears were poured into those manuscripts"
She smiled, but there was no joy in the expression, "And I couldn't believe it when he came back, raving to me about how good they were. He said I had real talent and he could see my books flying off the shelves.
"I couldn't believe it. I mean, all my hoping, all my wishing, and here it was finally coming true." she scoffed, shaking her head with self disgust, "I bought everything he was saying like some novice little fool. Which was exactly what I was."
"What did he do?" Sting demanded, his tone darkening.
He had an idea but he wanted to hear it from Emma, herself.
She looked over at him and bit her lip, almost reluctant to go on. The truth was she was more embarrassed at herself than she was angry at Bischoff.
She finally sighed, "So he came back with a contract for me to sign. It looked legitimate. And what parts I didn't completely understand he had a lawyer explain to me."
"His lawyer, I bet." Sting muttered with a cold smile, getting an idea of where this was going.
"Yep." Emma nodded, "And like a fool I signed on the dotted line."
She threw down her fork and leaned back in her chair, casting angry eyes to the ceiling, "I was so stupid. I played right into his hands.
"He had slipped in a little something extra before I had a chance to sign." she turned back to him and smiled coldly, "The contract I had signed was actually an agreement. I had to work for Eric for the next five years in return for his efforts to try and sell my manuscripts.
"And if I quit or I'm otherwise fired. . ." she turned away and Sting could see tears come to her eyes, "Then I lose the rights to my work. He gets my stories free and clear."
He felt his blood begin to boil. It was bad enough Eric had pulled this kind of crap before; that was how he had gotten his hands on Impact, after all. But to take a sweet girl like Emma, who's only dream was to be an author, and trick her into a five year sentence as his slave? And if she walked away she lost everything she worked so hard for?
He couldn't wait to get his hands on him the next time he saw him. Sting found himself grinning darkly as he imagined everything he wanted to do to the other man.
"So that was it." Emma began to fiddle with her napkin, her voice catching slightly, "I had to leave California and my friends and the bookstore. I had to move across the country and start working as Eric's assistant here at Impact."
Sting blinked, coming out of his dark thoughts, "Where at in California?"
"Santa Barbara." Emma clarified.
Sting found himself smiling despite the situation, "Almost a couple hours from my old stomping grounds of Venice."
Emma, too, began to grin, "Yeah. Not too far, at least."
She grew wistful, "It wouldn't be so bad working here if it were for anyone else besides Eric."
She looked at him, earnest, "I know I don't look like it, but I really do enjoy the business. Like I said, I've been a fan for a long time. And seeing the day-to-day workings of a wrestling company has actually been really interesting. But having to deal with Eric in the process. . ."
"I know it doesn't excuse my being standoffish. And I know it wasn't fair to paint all of you with the same brush I had Eric. Especially considering that you guys haven't done anything wrong." she shrugged, "But, well, you can see why I haven't exactly been a joy to be around at Impact."
"I get it." and he did; he completely understood, "I do."
Emma hedged, not sure if she should say the next part. The truth was, it was actually very easy talking to Sting. Easier than she ever could have imagined. She didn't understand why, but she felt comfortable opening up to him. She felt like she could tell him anything.
"There is one way I can get my work back." she looked away, revulsion coming over her, "Eric said he would tear up the contract if I would. . .If I would sleep with him."
She added, vehement, "But I would never do that. I mean, I want out of this contract in the worst way but I could never. . .Especially not with a cretin like him. I just can't do it."
She smiled coldly, "And he knows that. I think he takes some sort of twisted pleasure out of it. Like he knows he has me trapped."
Everything in Sting went still. He had to sit there and essentially force himself not to leave, find Eric and beat the ever living crap out of him.
Emma noticed his expression and she knew she should have kept that part of the deal a secret. She wasn't even sure why she had said anything. It was just that she felt like she had to get it out. All of it.
She reached out and placed her hand on his, "Sting, don't, okay? If you go after him it'll only make things worse."
He was quiet for several moments and she knew he must have been trying to control his temper.
When he finally spoke his voice was still tight with unleashed anger, but he did appear slightly calmer, "Why didn't you go to a lawyer? Try to get out of the contract?"
"I did." Emma assured him, "But Eric's good, the little weasel. The contract is completely binding. Legally I have no recourse."
She looked down and her eyes widened slightly as she realized she was still holding his hand. She quickly let it go and placed her own hands in her lap. Sting made a note of it, a slight smile coming to his lips. Could it be that she was warming up to him?
Now that he knew why she had been so withdrawn and cool, it all made sense to him. And seeing her now, so open and, dare he say, relaxed. Well it made him like her all the more.
Emma began to play with her napkin and she grinned with embarrassment, "This is all so silly, I know. I mean, I could walk away at any time. They're just stories, after all. In hindsight it's no big deal."
"Yes, it is." at the seriousness of his tone she found herself looking up at him, "It is a big deal. They aren't just stories. They're not just words on paper. They're a part of you."
He leaned forward and explained, "After WCW went out of business I had a chance to go up North. You don't compete in this business and not at least consider going up North at some point in your career."
"But you never did." Emma smiled at him, appearing almost proud, "You chose to stay with WCW. Even after it was gone."
"Yeah." Sting regarded her closely
How did she know that? Well, she had said she was a wrestling fan. That would explain it.
But still, he was surprised to know that she had followed his career. The idea that she might have pleased him.
"I had met with Vince McMahon." he went on, "And, you know, he was very good to me. We had a good conversation.
"He had offered me the world. Amazing venues. Merchandising sales. More money than I could shake my bat at."
"So why didn't you go?" Emma inquired, also leaning in. She was very interested in what he was saying.
"There were a few reasons." Sting explained, reflective, "But one of the most important was the fact that they wanted to rights to my name and likeness.
Emma could see just how serious he was as he went on, "Sting isn't just a name. It's me. He's me. My blood. My sweat. My tears. And the idea of some suits up North getting to own a piece of me, when they hadn't fought with me for all those years. . .It just left a bad taste in my mouth.
"So I get it, Emma." he told her, "I understand why your manuscripts mean so much to you."
Emma nodded, a huge sense of relief coming over her. She couldn't describe how good it felt to know that somebody got it. That they realized how important this was to her and why she couldn't back down.
She couldn't believe how well he understood. And, in return, she believed she was starting to figure him out a little more, as well.
This was unbelievable. She never would have imagined that she could find some common ground with the Insane Icon. If someone had told her that a week ago she would have thought they were crazy.
They were silent for several moments, eating and contemplating how the night had gone and what they had learned about each other.
"I want to thank you." Emma suddenly replied, sincere, "Coming here tonight, well I wasn't sure what I was in for. But it's actually been very nice. So thank you for a lovely evening.
"And I'd like to start over, if I could," she extended her hand, "Emma Sheffield."
Sting looked at her hand and grinned. He clasped it in his larger one and shook it, "Steve Borden. Nice to meet you."
Emma giggled, "Nice to meet you, too."
They continued to hold hands and Emma's smile slowly began to fade. Even through his gloves, she could feel the warmth of his touch. And she couldn't ignore the spark that seemed to pass from his hand to hers. It was surprising, but not unpleasant.
She looked over at him and found him watching her thoughtfully, his face betraying nothing. She wished she knew what he was thinking.
Almost reluctantly, she slowly removed her hand from his. She glanced down at the table and laughed, feeling nervous and unsure.
She dared to peek up at him and she found him turning away, running a thoughtful hand over the side of his neck.
Something caught in her mind, something she had always wondered about.
"Steve?" she called out to him tentatively.
It felt a little odd, calling him by his real name, but she had to admit that she liked it. She felt like she had gotten to know the man behind the persona and so calling him by his given name just felt right to her.
Sting glanced over at her. He had to admit he liked hearing the sound of his name on her lips. It felt good. It felt very good. And he hoped it was something she would continue to do.
"Yeah?" he asked, offering her a smile.
Emma bit her lip, unsure of how to proceed. She didn't want to insult or offend him. But it was something she had always wondered about.
"I. . ." she thought a moment, choosing her words careful, "I've always wondered-and you don't have to answer this if you don't want to."
"Go ahead." he motioned for her to go on.
"I. . ." she tentatively pointed to his neck and inquire, "I've always wondered, how did you get that scar on your jaw?"
Sting blinked, surprised by her question. She had always wondered? So that meant that she had looked at him. Scratch that. She had studied him. She would have had to because that particular scar wasn't very noticeable unless a person really looked at him.
He had to fight to keep from smiling. So, sweet little Emma had been checking him out, had she? That was good to know. That was very good to know.
"Well," he began, his tone exaggerated as he rubbed at his jaw, "It all happened on one dark, stormy night in Bangkok."
Emma giggled, charmed by his teasing nature.
All of a sudden music began to play out over the restaurant. A haunting tune filled with strings, guitar and piano chords. Her eyes narrowed in thought as the first few notes began to play.
Her eyes suddenly lit up, wonder coming over her. She knew that song!
"Find me here. And speak to me." the singer's soulful voice washed over the room, "I want to feel you. I need to hear you."
Emma slowly turned to Sting, finding him grinning at her.
"How did you. . .?" her voice trialed off. Of course he would have found out one of her favorite songs.
Sting rose from his chair and held out a hand to her, "Wanna dance with a madman?"
Emma smiled and took his hand, allowing him to lead her out to the dance floor. He gave her a little turn before pulling her into his arms, holding her close to him. Emma felt a blush warm her cheeks and she bowed her head, looking at his chest.
Sting looked down at the top of her head, his smile fading away. In it's place was an expression at once poignant and thoughtful. His arms tightened around her as he pulled her closer.
The truth was, he liked the feeling of her in his arms. He liked it a lot. Despite their differences in height, she fit perfectly against him. Better than he would have imagined.
Emma felt his hold on her tighten and a nervous shiver ran down her spine. But the nerves weren't from fear for once. At least, not the fear she was used to feeling around him. No, this fear was both insignificant and yet more dangerous.
"You are the hope, that keeps me trusting. You are the light, to my soul. You are my purpose. You're everything."
Emma closed her eyes and laid her cheek against his chest. Through the fabric of his shirt she could hear his heart beating. It seemed to beat in time with the music, though she noticed it sped up a little the closer she got to him.
She felt the tension ease out of her body as she allowed herself to relax and let go. No more worry. No more apprehension. Just dance with the Insane Icon. She sighed, enjoying the sounds of one of her favorite songs and the feeling of his strong arms around her.
"How can I stand here with you, and not be moved by you?" the singer asked, "Would you tell me, how could it be, any better than this?"
Sting closed his eyes briefly, affected by the feeling of her so close to him. Man, the singer really hit the nail on the head. At that moment those words seemed to mirror exactly what he was feeling.
He opened his eyes and stared down at her, watching her snuggle against him as they danced. The fact that she could be so open, so trusting, after everything she had told him. . .Heck, after everything he had done to her. He couldn't believe it.
He also couldn't deny the feelings she was invoking in him. He had wanted to kiss her before. But now, having her so close to him, that feeling had only grown. He wanted nothing more than to lift her into his arms and kiss her until they were both breathless.
But he didn't want to stop there.
After talking to her tonight and really getting to know her. . .he found his feelings for her had deepened. He had finally seen the real woman behind the ice princess and he wanted to know more of her. Mentally. Physically. Intimately.
"You calm the storms. And you give me rest. You hold me in your hands. You won't let me fall. You steal my heart, and you take my breath away. Would you take me in? Take me deeper now."
He wanted her. All of her. Her trust. Her friendship. Her passion. And he was sure that there was untapped passion laying just before the surface. And he wanted to be the man to bring it out of her.
He wanted more. Everything. And he would do whatever he could to earn that. He didn't care how long it took. He didn't care how slow he had to go. He just knew that he had to have her.
Emma pulled back and looked up at him, the pair sharing a long steady gaze. Both appeared thoughtful. And even a little afraid.
"Would you tell me, how could it be, any better than this?"
.
.
.
.
.
The limo pulled up to Emma's apartment later that night. As it drew to a stop she glanced over at Sting and smiled shyly. He regarded her silently, a hint of a grin tugging at his lips.
She offered a gentle laugh, "Thank you for. . .an interesting evening."
"Not what you expected, huh?" Sting teased, lightly bumping her arm with his own.
"Uh, no." Emma agreed, "It was definitely not what I expected."
Her smile grew as she looked down at her lap and murmured, "That was the best part."
Sting's grin faded as he regarded her seriously. He waited until she dared to look at him before speaking again.
"I'm sorry for scaring you." he replied, his words heartfelt, "What I did that night at the Impact Zone, grabbing you and taking you to that room. . .I should have believed you when you said you didn't know."
"I don't blame you." Emma spoke up, meaning it, "After everything that Eric and Immortal has done to you. . ."
She shrugged, "I'm not sure I would have believed me, either."
Sting's eyebrows rose, surprised that she could be so understanding. The lady had class. He couldn't deny that.
"For what it's worth," he replied softly, "I trust you, Emma."
Emma gave him a small smile, "Well for what it's worth, I really hope you can stop Eric and Immortal."
She glanced out the window and sighed, "I feel bad for Dixie, considering Eric tricked me, too. I really do hope she's able to get her company back."
She turned back to him and paused, the pair sharing a long look. Emma felt that familiar shiver come over her again. She bowed her head, feeling confused and self-conscious and not sure why she was feeling either.
"Well," Sting opened his door and grinned at her, "I better get you back home before you turn into a pumpkin."
Emma laughed at that and waited as Sting opened her door and helped her out. They began to walk across the picturesque courtyard of her apartment building.
It wasn't long until they reached her front door. They drew to a stop and Emma found herself looking up at him, not sure what was going to happen next. She bit her lip, feeling nervous and even a little giddy.
"Thank you." she murmured.
"You're welcome." Sting grinned down at her.
His eyes suddenly lit up, "Oh, before I forget."
He reached behind his back, taking hold of something. As he brought his hand forward Emma was surprised to discover that he was holding a single white rose.
He presented it to her with a grand bow, causing her to giggle. She took the flower and smiled up at him sweetly.
"Smooth move." she joked, looking down at the rose.
"Here's another one." Sting replied as he took her hand in his.
Emma looked up at him, suddenly not feeling like laughing anymore. She watched on with hushed wonder as he brought her hand up and placed a warm kiss onto it. His gaze never left hers as he studied her with something unreadable in his dark eyes.
He lowered her hand, but didn't release it, "Goodnight, Em."
"Goodnight, Steve." she murmured.
He gave her hand a squeeze, grinned and let her go. Without another word he turned and walked away.
Emma leaned back against her door and watched after him, butterflies fluttering in her stomach. Absently her hand found it's way to her chest, falling just above her heart.
All of those old feelings she used to have for him, before she had met him as the Insane Icon, came rushing back to her. She couldn't deny it. She was drawn to him.
What was wrong with her? He had teased her. Tormented her. Terrorized her.
And, when he realized he was wrong, he had turned around and apologized. Not only apologized, but went out of his way to show her just how sorry he was.
Not many people would do that.
Even as she tried to talk herself out of the feelings she was having she couldn't deny that the man she ran into at the Impact Zone at the beginning of the night was definitely not the same man she had sat down and spoke to, listened to, laughed with and danced with by the end of the night.
She had seen the man underneath the crazy face paint and the façade and she liked what she had discovered.
He was actually very charming. And kind. And thoughtful. And funny.
And handsome.
And fiery.
And sexy.
And she was in trouble.
She closed her eyes for a moment and shook her head. What was she thinking? She couldn't let herself get interested in him. It was a mistake.
There was too much going on in her life right now to be caught up in an infatuation with Steve.
She opened her eyes, thoughtful. She was already thinking of him as Steve and not Sting. She wasn't sure how she felt about that.
She pushed those thoughts aside and went back to the issues at hand.
No, nothing could come of this. She was dealing with Eric and her fight to get her manuscripts back.
Not to mention the fact that Steve was dealing with his own issues with Eric and Immortal. He needed to put all of his efforts into that. Not deal with her and her silly crush on him.
She bit her lip and closed her eyes. Except it wasn't a silly crush.
She didn't quite know what to call the unknown emotions welling up inside her. They definitely didn't have a particular name. It was too soon for that. But if things continued on like the way they had tonight. . .well, she knew where they would eventually lead.
No, she couldn't do it. There were just too many things to take into account.
She opened her eyes, growing melancholy. Most of all being that she didn't quite know where she stood with him. Granted, a man wouldn't have done the things he had done for her tonight without having some sort of feelings for her.
But he hadn't made a move. In fact, he hadn't even looked like he wanted to make a move.
Maybe it really had all been done in the spirit of friendship. And while that's not particularly where she would have liked to see things go, she knew she would just have to settle for that.
Besides, there were worst things than being friends with the Insane Icon.
