Chapter 14

As Emma's last full day in London steamed into view, she found herself in the back of the car being driven to Mayfair. It was a short journey and she'd considered suggesting that they walk there instead, but that seemed like the sort of thing that Regina would find completely reprehensible. Besides, Emma lived in a city where driving was a novelty and even Ubers were too expensive for her unless it was three days after payday, so she allowed herself a minute to sit back and enjoy being couriered around for once.

Regina's London gallery looked almost identical to her New York one. When they pulled up outside, Emma stared up at the sharp golden lettering above the door and smiled, because it was obvious that Regina knew what worked and liked to stick with the things that did.

Emma let herself be guided inside. The interior was also similar to the gallery she'd been in before, although it was smaller and had higher ceilings. Regina flicked on the lights, and Emma realised she was surrounded by pictures of orchids on all sides. They had been created with bright, almost neon paints, and even Emma took a step closer so that she could examine the collection properly.

"Do you like them?" Regina asked, peering over her shoulder.

Emma hesitated. "I think so," she said, because she wasn't going to start bullshitting about her artistic knowledge in front of the one person who would be able to catch her out. "They're nice, but how can you tell if they're any good?"

"You just get an instinct for these things," Regina said.

"Right. It must suck though, when you buy up a collection that you really like and then in a few years you have to sell it off again."

"I try not to think too much about whether I like them or not. If I did, I'd end up hoarding them all. It's more important to see their value than their personal appeal."

"So what value did you see in these?" Emma asked.

"Well. First of all, there had been a trend for very dark, busy paintings when I saw these, so I knew that if I waited long enough, a demand for much brighter works would come back around."

"And what happens if you're wrong?"

"I'm never wrong."

"But if you were?" Emma persisted.

"One of the beautiful things about this trade is that if you wait long enough, certain trends always come back around," Regina said. "So let's say the market for paintings like these didn't open up now, like I suspected it would – it would happen eventually. I'd have to wait a bit longer before I displayed these ones, but I'd end up selling plenty of others in the meantime."

Emma smiled, but something was heavy in her throat. "I guess as long as you've got the money to buy them in the first place, it'll all work out okay."

"Pretty much," Regina said, and once again there were inches and entire worlds separating them. "But with these ones I lucked out, because most of them got sold within a week of the exhibition opening. We'll keep them on display for another week or two to sell the stragglers, and then we'll move onto something else."

Emma walked away from the painting they'd been discussing and approached another. Regina followed her, staying close to her elbow, and when Emma asked a tentative question about it, Regina was all too happy to answer it for her.

Emma didn't care about art – she wasn't sure she ever would – but she could listen to Regina talk about it all day long. Her voice sounded softer when she spoke about paintings and it was a lovely, vulnerable side to her that she saw so very rarely. She found herself thinking up new questions just so she could listen to it some more.

But eventually, as it usually did, Regina's phone started ringing. She picked it up with a sigh. "John. You'd better have some good news for me."

She walked off then, her voice fading away as she strolled into the back room, and Emma continued walking around by herself. Most of the paintings had 'sold' labels stuck below them, but the two or three that were still up for sale didn't have prices. That told Emma all she needed to know.

She was walking around by herself for some time before she heard the sound of clipped footsteps approaching her again. She turned towards the door, already smiling.

"So," she started. "Now that we're moving onto the touristy stuff – what are the chances of you coming and trying on costumes in the London Dungeon with me?" Then she saw the look of fury that was clouding Regina's face, and her smile dropped again.

"We have to go," Regina snapped, collecting her purse and throwing her phone inside.

"Where?"

"I'm taking you back to the hotel," Regina said, already headed for the front door. "I have something I need to deal with."

"Oh. Can I help?" Emma asked, trotting after her.

"I don't know – can you help me win back a $5 million deal that one of my employees just destroyed?"

Emma nearly crashed into the wall. "$5 million?"

"I didn't stutter, Miss Swan. Now hurry up."

Emma walked through the open door with her cheeks prickling. Regina didn't talk to her again as she locked up the gallery, then stormed over to the waiting car.

The drive was painful and silent, punctuated only by Regina furiously tapping at her phone screen. Eventually Emma couldn't stand it any longer and quietly asked, "How did he lose so much money?"

Regina sighed, a deep and long-suffering sound, and said, "The buyer had all but agreed to buy a collection from us. He'd agreed to $5 million. All John had to do was go over there and get him to sign the damn contract."

Emma swallowed. "But maybe the buyer just changed his mind? It might not be—"

"I don't care what the reasons were, Emma," Regina barked. Emma shrank back in her seat, and that was the last time they spoke on the drive.

As they pulled up outside the hotel, Regina didn't budge. Her eyes were glued to her phone as she said, "I'll be back later. If you go out, please don't get lost again."

It was a low fucking blow even for her, and so Emma climbed out and slammed the door behind her without saying a word. The car was already driving off before she'd even made it to the foyer.

When Emma was back in their silent hotel room, she was bristling with annoyance and resentment and a little bit of shock. It was scary how quickly Regina could snap from joyful and laughing to hissing harsh words down a phone, and Emma was starting to realise just what she'd been talking about in her New York gallery when she'd warned her over what unpleasant company she could be.

But now it was only just lunchtime and Emma was stuck by herself in a soulless hotel room. She knew she could go out, but she didn't want to – not after what had happened yesterday. If she got lost again she wasn't sure she'd be able to handle the humiliation.

So instead she began slowly packing for her flight the next morning, because there was nothing else to do and she had to assume they wouldn't be going out for another romantic dinner before she left. When that was done, she stood aimlessly in the centre of the living room for a while, before settling down in front of the TV so she could try and figure out what everyone's obsession with Downton Abbey was.

Five hours passed by incredibly slowly when she couldn't stop looking at the clock.

She didn't realise her eyes had closed until she heard footsteps approaching the room. Sitting bolt upright, Emma turned the volume down on the TV and rubbed her eyes. When the door opened, her heart sunk a little bit.

Regina was wearing a sour expression that reminded Emma of the time she'd accidentally bought Ingrid a whole milk latte. She didn't look up as she kicked her shoes off, leaving them sprawled across the entranceway.

Taking a breath, Emma said, "Hey."

Regina looked up then, and immediately narrowed her eyes. "Why are you sitting in the dark?"

The sun was still up and the room barely counted as being gloomy, but Emma knew when someone simply wanted to pick a fight. She forced a smile. "I fell asleep."

"Well. I'm glad you've been having a relaxing afternoon," Regina scoffed, making her way over to the kitchen table. She dropped her purse on it with a clatter.

Emma didn't want to ask, but she knew that anger was bubbling up inside Regina's tightly wound frame and it needed releasing somehow. "How did it go?"

Regina sighed with the force of a steam engine. "How do you think it went? We couldn't save the contract. I'm out $5 million."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"Yes, me too."

"But someone else will buy it, won't they?" Emma asked. She wanted to get up and touch Regina's arm, to try and lure her back into the room, but there was something so brittle about the way she was standing that Emma thought touching her might make her snap. "This sucks, but I bet this happens a lot, doesn't it?"

Even she was shocked by the ferocity of Regina's glare when she turned around. "This is my life, Miss Swan. I have to fix this, not you. Don't start weighing in on things you know nothing about."

"I was trying to be helpful," Emma said. "What do you want me to do, fall to the ground sobbing about how your livelihood is in flames?"

"I don't care what you do. You're no help to me either way."

"Oh, cry me a river," Emma said, her patience running out with the speed of a lightning strike. She stood up so that Regina no longer towered over her. "So you didn't earn some extra money. Big deal. You have plenty of it anyway, and you didn't even lose anything. This time next week someone else will have bought the paintings instead and you'll be sitting in your office feeling pretty fucking pleased with yourself."

"Don't swear at me," Regina spat. "I don't pay you to talk to me like that."

"Tough luck, because that wasn't part of the contract and I can talk to you how I fucking like."

She could see Regina's face darkening, and it was weirdly making her feel better. She'd been on her best behaviour for weeks, working up a stress knot in her stomach worrying over how long it would take for Regina to realise that she'd made a horrible mistake hiring her. Now that they were finally coming to blows, it was much easier to not care anymore.

"You're obnoxious," Regina said, turning away from her and making her way towards the fridge. "Don't speak to me again."

"What, ever?"

"Until I'm damn well ready to listen to you," Regina snapped back at her, grabbing a bottle of champagne that Emma already knew would add an extra $200 to their bill. She didn't bother to find a glass before she stalked towards the bathroom. "And if you wanted to go out and get lost now, I wouldn't be so bothered this time."

"Great idea. Maybe I'll take the driver who you get so pissed off about me talking to," Emma called after her, but it didn't work. Regina was too mad to be jealous, and all she got for her efforts was a door slamming in her face.

Emma collapsed back onto the couch with a strangled groan. Her hands were shaking from anger, and she stuffed them beneath her thighs while she tried to take some deep breaths. From the bathroom, she could hear the bath starting to run. God, she wanted to go into the kitchen and put the hot water on full blast just to piss her off even more.

Instead, she walked out onto the terrace and forced herself to calm down. It took a long time, because she was used to grabbing a bottle of tequila the second she felt her blood pressure starting to rise and she hadn't had the forward thinking to pick up any of that during her disastrous jaunt to Covent Garden the day before.

She leaned against the low brick wall that served as a railing and took a deep breath, keeping her eyes on the sun that was only just beginning to set behind the immaculate trees that lined the street. She decided then that no matter how pissy Regina still was when she finally emerged from the bathroom, Emma wouldn't let this ruin her weekend. This might be the only time she ever came to London, and she wasn't going to let a toddler in her mid-thirties ruin it for her.

Still, she thought, it would have been nice to go out for dinner on her last night.

When she went back into the living room, it was 45 minutes later and Regina still hadn't reappeared. Emma hadn't had lunch and she was starving, and the thought of going out to a restaurant by herself was too depressing to comprehend. Instead, she sat down with a huff and fished out the room service menu, knowing full well that she had to order Regina something too but desperately wishing that she could leave her to starve instead.

It was probably the knock at the door that lured Regina out of her funk, because when Emma returned to the room carrying a tray laden with food, the bathroom door finally swung open. Emma ignored it, sitting down cross-legged on the couch and tugging a plate into her lap.

Regina wandered out of the bathroom wrapped in a robe with a mostly empty bottle of champagne dangling from her hand. "Did you order dinner?"

"Yes," Emma said, not looking up. She could feel Regina's hesitation, which either meant she was sorry or she was drunk. Either way, Emma was still the winner.

"Did you order for me too?"

"I got us both burgers," Emma said. It was a petty thing to do, but she'd loved every second of it. Even now, she could sense Regina's disgust at the thought of putting something so greasy into her mouth.

Still, she walked slowly towards the couch and sat down, leaving a metre of space between her and Emma. She didn't say thank you as she slowly pulled her plate towards her, regarding the most expensive burger Emma had ever ordered with a lot more suspicion than was strictly necessary.

Emma had been watching TV before the food arrived, which was the only thing stopping them from sitting in complete, unbearable silence. She wanted a drink, but the bottle of champagne sitting at Regina's end of the coffee table barely had a dribble left in it and she wasn't brave enough to just go and help herself from the minibar. So she ate quietly, doing everything she could not to look at Regina, and wondered which one of them would cave first.

She was more surprised than she was pleased when she won.

"This is actually very good," Regina said, staring down at the burger like it had tricked her.

"I know," Emma said, still not looking at her.

Regina sighed. "Don't be pouty."

"I'm not being pouty. I'm eating. And watching TV."

Regina followed her gaze to the television, which was showing a commercial for a hardware store. "Yes, well. I can see why that would need all your concentration."

Finally, Emma glared at her. "Is that how this is going to be? You take your annoyance out on me and storm off, then waltz back in like nothing ever happened?"

Regina was too busy nibbling at a French fry to give her a response. She just shrugged.

"Regina," Emma snapped. "I know you've just thrown back a bottle of Bollinger, but could you try and give me a proper answer?"

"Will you go and get a drink?" Regina sighed.

"Why?"

"You need to calm down."

"You can't get me drunk just so I won't be mad at you anymore."

"I really don't see why not," Regina said, getting up and going to retrieve another bottle from the fridge.

"Because it's manipulative."

"How many times do I have to tell you that that's not an insult?" Regina popped open the bottle and dumped it and two glasses in front of Emma. She returned to her seat, sitting marginally closer than she had been a moment ago, and carried on working through her food.

Emma sighed. "I just don't think it's fair for you to use me as your own personal punching bag and then not even apologise for it."

That was Regina's cue to say sorry, and they both knew it. But instead she just looked at her, considering the sharp downturn in the corners of her mouth. "It was just a fight, Emma. Don't get so caught up in it. I assure you there will be plenty more."

Making a grab for the champagne bottle and pouring herself a much-too-full glass, Emma grumbled, "That's definitely something to look forward to."

"Look," Regina said briskly. "We yelled at each other. I personally feel much better. Don't you?"

She did, but there was absolutely no way she was going to admit that. "No."

"Emma," Regina sighed, drawing out her name like she was trailing a silk scarf through her fingers. "Don't be like that."

"Be like what? The only person in your life who's not willing to put up with you when you're being a bitch?"

She was dangerously close to yelling again, but weirdly Regina didn't seem to mind. She was watching her with the tiniest of smirks on her face, and Emma couldn't tell if it was because she found her anger amusing or slightly impressive.

"No," she said, tilting her head to one side. "Being mad at me when I want us to be friends again."

Emma dumped her half-eaten burger onto the coffee table. "You are impossible, you know that?"

Regina followed suit, abandoning her food and taking a long draught of champagne straight out of the bottle. She didn't break eye contact the whole time.

"I've been told," she said as she pulled the bottle away from her lips again. Once she was done with it, she began to shift down the couch. Her robe was starting to fall open and Emma forced herself not to look down.

"Regina. That's not going to work."

"What isn't?" Regina asked, reaching her side and tucking a curl behind her ear.

"This. I'm mad at you. You can't flirt your way out of it."

But Regina was already leaning into her ear, a wicked smile on her face. "Can you at least let me try?"

Emma shivered. Regina's voice was low and seductive as her hands had slid up to rest possessively on Emma's shoulders. When she hooked one around her neck, pulling her closer, Emma didn't resist, although she knew she had every right to.

"Come on," Regina murmured in her ear. "It's our last night together, after all."

Emma squeezed her eyes shut. "I know that."

There was a shift in pressure beside her, and before she could do anything to stop it happening, Regina was crawling into her lap, her hands sliding around the back of her neck.

"You're not going to leave me here alone while you're still mad at me, are you?"

It was another question that Emma recognised as only having one correct answer. She kept her eyes closed, knowing that the mere sight of Regina straddled on top of her would send what little was left of her resolve flying out the window.

"Maybe."

"I think I should persuade you otherwise," Regina said, pressing her mouth against Emma's ear. She smelled of perfume and bubble bath and a little bit like French fries, which was turning Emma on more than it probably should do. She hated herself when she lifted her hands and slipped them beneath Regina's robe to rest on her thighs.

Regina wriggled contentedly on top of her, her mouth working over Emma's ear. "Are you going to miss me this week?"

"No," Emma said, sounding unconvincing even to her own ears.

"Don't lie to me," Regina murmured, and Emma could tell she was smiling. "Tell me the truth."

Her fingers were creeping under the neckline of Emma's shirt, stroking over her shoulders and collarbone. Emma breathed out a deep sigh of resignation.

"...yes."

"I thought so," Regina said, and God, she was almost purring. She rolled her hips once more, settling herself more firmly in Emma's lap, and Emma knew that her robe must be completely open by now. "There's no shame in admitting that."

Emma snorted. "You really are obnoxious."

"I know," Regina replied, catching Emma's earlobe with her teeth. Her hands pulled out from under Emma's shirt and slid down, cupping her breasts just firmly enough to make Emma moan.

When Emma still didn't look up, Regina reached down and grabbed hold of her wrists. She brought them up, placing Emma's hands against her own chest, and when Emma felt bare skin beneath her fingers, her eyes finally snapped open.

Apparently that was all Regina had been waiting for, because the second she had Emma's devoted eyes looking up at her, she dove forwards and kissed her hard. Emma squeezed on her breasts automatically, relishing the gasp she coaxed out of her, and tilted her head back so that Regina's tongue could slide deeper into her mouth.

Regina seemed to pour down onto her as she kissed her, her hair falling forwards and tickling Emma's forehead and cheeks. She held tightly onto her neck, holding her in position, as she rolled her hips forward, dragging her naked body against Emma's abdomen.

All of Emma's earlier fury disappeared when she felt those hands slide downwards and pop open her jeans. She held her breath, then shakily released it when Regina's fingers slid into her underwear.

"Does fighting turn you on, Miss Swan?" Regina muttered against her ear, so proud of herself when she felt just how wet Emma was. Emma groaned, lifting her hips to give Regina better access, and shook her head.

"No?" Regina asked, sliding two fingers excruciatingly slowly inside her. Emma's entire body had gone rigid with anticipation, and she chuckled at the feel of it. "I think you might be lying again."

And Emma was, because yelling at Regina had gotten her blood up and now there was only one thing that could bring it back down again. She trembled beneath her, willing Regina to fuck her harder, but tonight she seemed intent on taking her sweet time.

"I love feeling this," Regina whispered, her smoky voice setting Emma's heart pounding. "You get so beautifully wet for me."

Emma moaned, leaning her forehead against Regina's shoulder. She was trying to hide her face, because Regina's dirty little words did more to her than she'd ever admit out loud, and even now she could feel her cheeks starting to go pink. But Regina knew exactly what she was doing, and what effect she had on other people, and so she kept on going, muttering the most wonderfully filthy things in Emma's ear until was writhing about beneath her, her breathing coming in short, desperate bursts.

"You think I don't know that you're going to spend the rest of your week fantasising about this?" she purred, her spare hand caressing Emma's throat, pressing just hard enough to make her head pound. "Sitting at your desk, wriggling in those tight little jeans of yours, feeling your panties getting soaked as you remember what it felt like to come all over my fingers?"

Emma came right then, crying out with her teeth digging into Regina's bare shoulder and her hands holding her body tight against her. As she caught her breath, Regina pulled her fingers free of her jeans and placed them on Emma's throat instead. She kissed every wet fingerprint she left behind, gently sucking the stickiness off of Emma's skin and moaning at the taste of it. Emma could feel a hickey brewing and she did absolutely nothing to stop it, because the feeling of Regina's lips on her neck was making her breathless and right then all she could think about was how glad she would be to have a mark to remember this by when she was back in New York.

When she had finally crashed back down to Earth, Emma dipped her mouth against Regina's exposed body and started peppering kisses across her naked chest. Regina leaned back to give her more room and sighed happily when Emma caught her nipple in her mouth, lavishing it with her tongue and gently tugging it between her teeth. After a moment, Regina shrugged the robe off of her body and let it fall to the floor, leaving her completely naked in Emma's lap. Emma wrapped her arms around her narrow waist and pulling her closer, lifting her chin so she could catch Regina's mouth. The second Regina wound her arms back around her neck, Emma tugged her hard against her body and slid off the couch entirely. Regina shrieked as Emma got onto her knees and lowered her down to the floor.

"Don't do that again," Regina gasped as soon as she was safely delivered onto the carpet.

"Why not? I didn't drop you," Emma protested, dipping her head and kissing her throat.

Regina moaned softly. "I know you didn't, but you still startled me."

"I'm really sorry about that," Emma murmured against her skin, sliding lower down her body. "Let me try and make it up to you."

Regina didn't respond, because Emma was already settling down between her legs, busily pressing kisses all over her stomach and ribs. Regina's legs spread further apart, giving her room to crawl further down, and when Emma was lying flat on the carpet, her mouth in line with Regina's cunt, her legs shifted over Emma's shoulders instead. She crossed her ankles against her spine and used them to hold Emma tight against her.

It had only been two days, and yet Emma already knew that her favourite place in the world was lying between Regina's thighs. She made the most un-Regina noises when she felt Emma's tongue swirling over her clit – soft moans and faint little whimpers – and Emma just wanted to drown in all of it. She would have stayed there all night long – all Regina had to do was ask.

But she was barely down there for two minutes before Regina's back started arching up off the carpet, her fingers reaching down to fist in Emma's hair. Maybe it was the champagne or maybe it was the leftover exhilaration from fighting, but her orgasm seems to be creeping up on her with the speed of a tsunami. When she came over Emma's tongue, her desperate howl of pleasure told Emma it had the same force as one, too.

Emma had to slow disentangle herself from Regina's greedy arms and legs so she could sit upright. With a wobbly sigh, she grabbed her glass and drank its contents down in one.

Regina was watching her from the floor, her legs still spread and her chest flushed. She waited until Emma had finished drinking, and then she gestured for her to pass the champagne.

Emma watched as she propped herself up on one elbow, taking a long drink from the bottle. Some part of her wanted to slap it out of her hand just so she could kiss her again.

"So," Regina said eventually. She was smirking. "Do you forgive me now?"

Emma rolled her eyes. "You never actually apologised."

"No, and you should probably stop expecting me to. But you forgive me anyway," Regina said. She waited for Emma to stand up, then held out a hand so she could be pulled up off the floor. "Don't you?"

Regina seemed smaller than normal, naked when Emma was fully clothed, with her hair all messed up at the back. When Emma reached out a hand to tug her forwards, Regina melted into her kiss with a grateful sigh.

"Yes," Emma said, sitting back down on the couch. "But you're still an asshole."

Regina smiled, wrapping herself back up in her robe before joining her on the sofa. As she settled down, she slid her bare legs across Emma's lap. Emma wrapped her fingers around her ankles without thinking.

"Are you going to finish your food?" she asked. Regina shook her head.

"That just satisfied me in a way food never can," she said, and Emma smirked to herself.

"We're two very different people," she replied, reaching over and grabbing the rest of her burger. Regina rolled her eyes when she found her shins being used as Emma's new table, but she didn't complain.

"We are," Regina agreed, lifting the champagne bottle to her lips once more. "I don't necessarily mind that, though."

Emma watched her as she drank. Even without make up, without jewellery, without a cell phone clamped to her ear, she was the more intimidatingly beautiful person she'd ever seen. Her bare feet were inches away from Emma's hands and the alcohol had made her cheeks go pink, and yet Emma still felt herself go breathless just from looking at her.

She laughed to herself and looked back down at her food.

"No," she admitted, her heart clenching. "Neither do I."