A/N: I'm really excited to finally be posting this fic – as we all know, The Proposal is the greatest rom com ever and has been screaming out for a lesbian remake ever since it was released. Let's hope I do this justice.

There are 10 chapters to this fic and it was be updated every Sunday only. Also, just to warn you, there isn't a dancing scene in the woods – my second-hand embarrassment couldn't cope with trying to write it.

As some of you know already know, I'm considering making this my last fic for the Swan Queen fandom, so I hope you all enjoy xx

PS. In the original upload Regina was from Puerto Rico because I was trying not to whitewash Lana. I didn't realise that Puerto Ricans can't be deported from the US. People got upset about it, so Regina's from Canada now - I'm sorry for the mistake and I hope this works.


Chapter one

When Emma wasn't woken by a frantic beeping, she immediately knew something was wrong.

Peeling open one eye, she found the sun streaming in through the window and her phone screen black. She reached out and frantically tapped at it – she'd forgotten to set her alarm the night before, evidently, and now the clock was cheerily informing her that it was 8:03am.

"Shit," she yelped, leaping out of bed. She tripped over a dangling sheet on her way to the bathroom and collided with the wall, nearly earning herself a black eye to round off what she was certain was going to be a truly terrible day.

After showering and getting dressed in under 10 minutes, Emma ran out the door and made her way across town. By the time she reached Starbucks, her hair was still wet and her shirt was buttoned up wrong. The line was snaking almost out the door and she groaned, glancing at her watch – it was 8:50am, and the Evil Queen was due to arrive at the office at 9. Emma briefly weighed up which would get her fired faster – showing up late, or showing up not quite as late but without coffee.

"Emma," a voice called from the front of the line. "Up here."

Emma peered round the queue of people and spotted her usual barista waving at her from behind the counter. He was tall and grizzly-looking and Emma already knew from multiple unprompted conversations with him that he had decided he was a writer, although he hadn't actually written anything yet. In spite of how uninterested she was in him, she scurried to the front of the line with relief dripping down her back like sweat.

"Here you go," he said, handing over two cups. "Your usual."

"You're saving my ass, August," she said, thrusting a bill into his hand. "Thank you so much."

He grinned back at her, but Emma was already running off, paying no attention to the line of people glaring at her as she vanished onto the street.

She made it to the office at 8:58am and hurled herself into the elevator. She spotted a receptionist from the main floor and asked, "Is she here yet?"

"Not yet," the woman replied. "Cutting it a bit fine, aren't you?"

"It hasn't been a good morning," Emma said, balancing the cup tray in one hand as she used the other to unbutton and rebutton part of her shirt. A few men glanced over at the sudden appearance of her bra. She pointedly ignored them.

The elevator dinged at the 15th floor and Emma rushed out into the office. You made it, she told herself, breathing a sigh of relief. Maybe today won't be so bad after

There was a huge crash as the guy with the mail cart collided with her hip, and she suddenly felt her entire torso start to burn with something wet and cinnamon-smelling.

"Shit," Emma shrieked, the entire office turning to stare. She'd been wearing a white button-down shirt when she'd left her apartment, but now it was a murky brown colour.

"I'm so sorry," the mail guy stammered, reaching out like he was going to attempt to clean her up. She took a sharp step back.

"No," she snapped, looking down at the cups in her hand. One was mostly intact, but the other – which was going to have to be hers, she realised – was empty and half falling out of its tray. "Oh, Jesus Christ."

Tossing the ruined cup into the trash, Emma stormed across the room and headed into her boss's office. She still wasn't there, which was pretty much the only positive thing Emma could focus on right then. She was still soaked and smelling of coffee, though, and she had less than a minute to do anything about either of those problems.

"Wow," a voice from behind her said. She turned to find Elsa leaning against the glass doorframe. "Rough morning?"

"Give me your shirt."

Elsa raised her eyebrows. "Excuse me?"

"I'm serious – swap shirts with me," Emma said, glancing at the elevators. "I'll do anything."

"Yeah, no thanks," Elsa replied. "Her Majesty must have a spare."

"I'm not taking my boss's shirt."

"You think she'll appreciate that when she walks in to find you dripping all over her carpet?"

Emma looked down and realised that she did in fact have half a latte dribbling down her pants leg and onto the floor. She groaned.

"Shit," she muttered, turning to one of the cabinets and rummaging through the dry cleaning bags that her boss hadn't managed to take home yet. They were mostly full of fancy skirts and black-tie gowns, but eventually she dug out a shirt that she wasn't sure she'd even seen her wear before. "This?"

"It's fine. Quick," Elsa said, not batting an eyelid when Emma immediately started undressing in the middle of the glass office. Emma grabbed the shirt, which was a weird silky blue thing that still smelled disconcertingly like Lola by Marc Jacobs, and began to tug it on.

The elevator pinged at that exact moment, and Emma felt her entire spine go rigid.

"Hurry up, you sloppy bitch," Elsa hissed, grabbing Emma's ruined shirt and taking it out into the main office with her. Emma frantically finished buttoning herself up and tucked the shirt into her pants, which were still slightly stained with coffee but were the least of her problems right then.

Turning to check that the rest of the room was in order, Emma smoothed a hand over her still-damp hair and straightened up. The entire floor had gone silent apart from two things: the sound of sudden industrious keyboard tapping, and a set of high heels walking toward her.

Emma swivelled to find Regina Mills in the doorway, looking at her with raised eyebrows.

"Morning, boss," Emma said, hoping that if she started talking right away it might distract her from what she was wearing. "You have a conference call at 9:30."

Regina was still watching her curiously, her eyes narrowed and sharp.

"I know," she replied, taking another step into the room. "Is that my shirt?"

Terror sunk like a stone in Emma's stomach. She suddenly heard herself lying, "Nope."

"No?"

"No – I guess we must just have similar taste."

Her boss's entire face crumpled with disgust. "I highly doubt that."

Thankfully, she walked toward her desk then and left that conversation behind her. "Push the call back to 10, and tell Joel in accounting to stop harassing me about my expenses report – I'll get it to him when I'm ready."

Emma grabbed one of the many notebooks that she left dotted around in case Regina threw a sudden demand at her and started scribbling. "Sure. Also, your immigration lawyer called after you left last night."

Regina scoffed. "Of course he did."

"He said he'd call back this morning. Apparently it's urgent."

"It's always urgent," Regina replied, sitting down and rummaging through some of the papers on her desk. "If he calls again, tell him I'm busy. I haven't got time for that today."

Emma glanced up from her notes – Regina never seemed to have time for anything, except for berating her assistant and generally making everybody in the building tremble with fear whenever she walked by. She hadn't taken a single day off in the entire time she'd worked there, not even when swine flu had been doing the rounds and her temperature had been a toasty 103 degrees. Supposedly if she wasn't around to yell at everyone and make sure their lives were a living hell, the company would crumble into bankruptcy before the week was out.

Emma watched her as she peered down at her paperwork. When Regina was sitting like that, with her face angled downward, Emma could see a thick scar on her upper lip. It always made her feel weirdly sorry for her.

That was, until Regina looked up again with her brown eyes flashing. "Is there a problem?"

"No," Emma said quickly, going back to her notes. "I'll tell him."

"Good. And while you're at it, go and get your own shirt cleaned so you can take my one off."

Emma paused. "It's not—"

"Don't lie to me, Miss Swan. You can work this weekend for that."

"What?" Emma stammered. "But I've got my family thing, remember? It's my parents' 25th anniversary and I booked Friday and Monday off for it. You—"

"Cancel it," Regina cut her off in her flattest voice. "You should have thought about that before you went rifling through my personal property playing dress-up."

Gritting her teeth so hard she heard a crack, Emma asked, "Can't I stay late tonight instead?"

"No, but you can go and get me a smoothie. I'm not a peasant and I don't want to drink your leftover coffee."

"Sorry?"

Regina scooped up the surviving cup from her desk and turned it so that Emma could see the phone number written on the opposite side.

Emma – give me a call

August

That same stone of terror that lived in Emma's abdomen whenever Regina was around sunk a little lower.

"It's not my leftovers," she said slowly. "He just… wrote on the wrong cup."

"I see," Regina said, lifting it and taking a sip. Her eyes never left Emma's. "You drink the same coffee as me?"

"I… do."

"Have you always?"

"Of course."

Regina immediately dropped the cup into the trash and flipped her glossy brown hair over her shoulder. "What did I just tell you about lying to me? Go get me that smoothie, and make sure you're wearing something that belongs to you when you come back."

Emma turned and all but ran out the room, snatching her coffee-soaked shirt from Elsa on the way. Once she'd been to the smoothie bar, she stopped off at H&M before making her way to the dry cleaners.

As she stood in the bathroom wriggling into her new shirt, she caught sight of herself in the mirror and realised how exhausted she looked. No wonder she'd forgotten to set her fucking alarm.


Regina was pleased to see that Emma was wearing another shirt when she returned. It was white and tightly fitted, and in her hand she was clutching a green smoothie that tasted as bad as it looked.

"For you," Emma said, handing it over with that hint of sullenness that always got Regina slightly excited. She had a piece of paper in her other hand.

"What's that?" Regina asked. Emma hesitated.

"Dry cleaning ticket."

"For your other shirt?"

Emma sighed. "For yours."

Throwing her assistant the smug grin that she knew she hated, Regina said, "Excellent. I'm glad to hear it won't be smelling of cheap bourbon and men's cologne when I get it back."

Emma smiled tightly and ignored her.

"Your immigration lawyer called again," she said, looking down at her notes. "I told him you were busy."

"Good," Regina replied, sipping her kale smoothie and trying not to shudder. "Anything else?"

"Not right now."

"Then I guess you'd better go call your family and tell them that you can't make their saccharine reunion this weekend, right?"

Emma didn't even flinch. She just turned and left.

Regina settled down with her work for the next half hour, waiting until the very last minute before she started to get ready for her conference call. Outside the glass walls of her office, she could see Emma on the phone with her forehead resting on one hand.

She smirked and got up.

"I know," she heard Emma say as she opened the door. "I'm sorry, Mom. I tried, but you know she doesn't listen to me."

There was a pause as a shrill voice from down the line talked back at her. Regina took a step closer and wondered how long it would take for her presence to be registered.

"Of course I'm not just making excuses," Emma sighed, tilting her head and suddenly noticing her boss standing three feet away. She jumped and nearly dropped the phone. "Mom, I'll call you back."

She hurriedly hung up, her cheeks stained pink. Regina always liked it when they did that.

"Your mother?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"Is she disappointed?"

"Yes."

"Did she tell you to quit?"

Emma glared back at her. "She tells me that every single day."

The phone started ringing again before Regina could respond, and Emma picked up with an aggressive-sounding, "Good morning, Ms Mills's office."

She paused for a second before saying, "Regina's busy at the moment, Sidney, but we can stop by after her conference call."

Regina waved one hand. Emma frowned and said, "Hang on."

When she had the phone pressed to her shoulder, she waited expectantly for Regina to explain.

"We're going there now," Regina said.

"We are? You have a call."

"It can wait. This won't take long."

That was a sentence that never boded well. Emma told Sidney they'd be with him shortly, then stumbled along behind her boss as they walked over to the elevator. They didn't speak on the journey down.

Sidney worked a floor below them, because Regina loved to remind him of the fact that he was just slightly junior to her. Regina was the editor in chief of Rocinante Books – the youngest ever at the age of 37, and the first woman to hold the position – and it was a constant source of contention between her and Sidney Glass, who had been there for 10 years longer than her but had never quite managed to overtake her.

Regina sauntered into his office without knocking and nearly let the door slam shut in Emma's face in the process.

"Ms Mills," Sidney said. He was sitting at his desk with his hands folded on top of his notepad. He spotted Emma and added, "Ah – and her lapdog."

Ignoring him, Emma shut the door and positioned herself in the corner. She knew without asking that she was only there to be a witness to something.

"Sidney," Regina said coolly, striding over to his window and looking out at the view. It faced the wrong side of the city and was considerably less impressive than her own. Emma saw the self-satisfied smile on her face before she asked, "How are things on the 14th floor today?"

"Fine, thank you. Not as grand as the 15th, I imagine."

"No," Regina said, wrinkling her nose like there was a bad smell. "You're right about that."

As Emma watched, Sidney gave the back of Regina's head a strange, simpering look – almost like he was pleading with her without saying the words out loud.

"Anyway," Regina said, turning back to face him and leaning one arm on the nearest bookshelf. "Sidney, I'm letting you go."

The room went deathly silent. Sidney glanced over at Emma to check she wasn't laughing at this hilarious practical joke, but he found her staring open-mouthed at Regina as well.

"I'm sorry?"

"You're fired," Regina clarified. "It's time for you to move on."

"But, I… I've been here for nearly 20 years."

"And in that time, you haven't done a single thing to progress this company. I'm tired of your attitude."

"Regina," Sidney stammered. "You don't have the power to do this."

"Of course I do. I'm the editor in chief – something you should be all too aware of, judging by how often you bitch and whine about that in your 'private' staff meetings."

Sidney's face darkened. "You can't just fire me for no reason. I'll sue."

"Ah, well – luckily I have plenty of reasons," Regina said, taking a step closer. "Last week, when I came looking for you and your secretary said you were in a meeting, where were you really?"

"I don't… I don't recall."

"You were having lunch with the editor of White Publishing," Regina answered for him. "I have photographic evidence. They're our main competitor, Sidney, and I know they're looking for a new editor in chief. You're not a team player, and I don't need you."

Sidney was blinking furiously. "But—"

"And let's talk about the time when you tried to blackmail me into dating you," Regina interrupted. Emma jumped, turning to look at her. "Did you think I'd forgotten about that?"

Sidney glanced at Emma again before saying, "I never blackmailed you."

Emma couldn't help but be slightly in awe of Regina as she whipped a piece of paper out the waistband of her skirt like a fucking magician unveiling her main trick. She cleared her throat and began reading it out. "'Regina – I thought you would like the flowers, especially as a woman who wants to get ahead in this company. Maybe if you agreed to go to dinner with me, I could help you achieve that.'"

Emma could feel her entire body shrivelling up, but Regina looked remarkably casual about the whole thing. She put the email away again before Sidney could comment on it.

"You have a month to find a new job," she said. "After that, you can tell everyone you resigned. I will not be giving you a reference, so don't ask – but luckily you seem to have another job all lined up with White, don't you?"

All the colour had drained from Sidney's face, and he didn't respond.

"Good," Regina said. She turned to Emma and asked, "Do you have anything to add, Miss Swan?"

Emma just shook her head, not trusting herself to speak.

Ten seconds later, they were in the elevator making their way back up to their own floor. Emma was silent and a little shaken, but beside her Regina seemed to be in a great mood. Sidney hadn't come chasing after them and screamed at her for being a poisonous bitch, which was a plus, and soon she'd be free of her useless deputy who never seemed to do anything except mope around hoping Regina would pay attention to him.

"He really tried to blackmail you?" Emma heard herself ask. Regina glanced over at her. Then the doors pinged open, and she walked out without answering.


When Emma knocked on her door later that afternoon, Regina looked up with a sigh. "What?"

"Sorry," Emma said, not stepping into the office. "Mr Locksley wants to speak to you."

That earned her an automatic eye roll. "Tell him I'm busy."

"He said it's urgent."

"I'm sure it is. But—"

"He called three times," Emma interrupted. "In 10 minutes. It's urgent."

Regina tossed her pen back onto the desk.

"Fine," she muttered, getting to her feet. "But come and get me in five. Make up some excuse."

"Sure."

Regina swept past her and headed for the elevator. Robin, the owner of the company, was the only person to have an office on the floor above Regina, and it was the place she hated visiting most in the world. As soon as she stepped out of the elevator and onto his turf, she felt like she had to try twice as hard to terrify anyone.

She pushed open the door to his office and was immediately greeted with the stench of aftershave and pine-needle air freshener.

"Robin," she said, smiling brightly. He was lounging behind his desk with one of his muddy boots – which he always wore to give some semblance of being a 'cool' boss, even though he refused to learn anybody's names and kept driving secretaries out after sexually harassing them – kicked up on top of the table.

"Regina – I'm glad you finally found time to see us," he replied. Movement in the corner of the room caught Regina's eye, and she suddenly realised that someone else was with them: the company lawyer, Dr Hopper, was perched awkwardly at the very edge of the office, his hands clasped over his briefcase. He offered her a shaky smile.

Regina looked back at Robin, who was gesturing at the chair in front of his desk. "Take a seat."

Ignoring him, Regina said, "Look, I'm sure this is very important, but I have a meeting with—"

"Do you remember your visa renewal form?" Robin interrupted.

"Of course. We sent it off last month."

"And do you remember being told that you were to remain in the country while it was being processed?"

Something sharp and uncomfortable twisted in Regina's stomach, but she ignored it. "Yes, I do."

"Then why, exactly, did you go to London last week?"

"We were about to lose one of our authors."

"And you couldn't send Sidney?"

"Absolutely not. You know how things work around here, Robin – if you want something done properly, you need to do it yourself."

Robin hummed to himself, finally deigning to take his boots off the desk. "Regina, your application has been declined."

Her already-fake smile froze on her face. "I'm sorry?"

"You broke the terms of your agreement with USCIS," Dr Hopper chimed in, sounding nervous. "Your immigration lawyer has been trying to get in touch with you for days."

"I've been busy," Regina scoffed. "I don't have time to take every single call that comes through."

"Well, this was kind of an important one," Robin said. "You're being deported."

"Deported?"

"I'm afraid so. I believe you have a few days to get your affairs in order, but you're expected to return to Canada until this can get straightened out."

There was a dull roaring sound in Regina's ears and she shook her head to try and get rid of it. "This can't… Look, I've lived here for 20 years. I didn't just come over the border hanging from the bottom of a fuel truck."

"We know that, and the government has been happy for you to stay until now, but—"

"Fine," Regina quickly cut him off. "This is fine. I can work from Vancouver for the time being, until my lawyer gets this fixed."

It wasn't fine, though – she'd been 17 years old the day she'd hopped on a plane and left that country for good, and the thought of going back made acid boil up in her throat. She reached for the chair in front of her and gripped it hard.

Dr Hopper looked at her awkwardly. "Regina, you can't work for an American company while your legal status is being determined."

"What? So, I'm fired?"

"No," Robin said. "Until this is all worked out, we'll place you on temporary leave and hand operations over to Sidney."

The rest of Regina's world came crashing down around her. "Sidney Glass? You remember me emailing you two hours ago to tell you I'd fired him, right?"

"Regina, he's the only option we've got. We can't leave the company without an editor in chief while you're off gallivanting through the Canadian Rockies."

"I'm not going to be—" Regina started angrily, then stopped herself. She took a deep breath. "Look. There must be a way."

"There is, if we go through the proper channels and try to sort out the mess you made when you left the country without permission."

"And how long will that take?"

"As long as it needs to."

"But—"

A knock at the door interrupted them, and Regina turned to find Emma's head poking hopefully into the room.

"Not now," she snapped.

"I know, you're busy," Emma said, because she'd become immune to her boss's tone about 18 months ago. "But I've got Mary downstairs for you."

"Who?"

"Mary," Emma said. She finally paused to take in the three agitated faces looking back at her. "She… She's here for that important meeting."

"We're already in a meeting," Robin said. "Can you leave, please?"

Emma looked back at Regina, expecting her to take over and insist that no, she really must go and speak to this vitally important, imaginary woman. Instead she found her watching her curiously. She was wearing the same expression she always used right before she tricked Emma into working three weekends in a row.

Something visibly clicked, and Regina pressed her lips together.

"Emma," she said, using a strangely soft voice that Emma had never heard before. "Could you come here, please?"

"I…" Emma started, glancing at the two men who were still glaring at her. Without another word, she stepped into the room and let the door snap shut behind her.

Regina smiled at her, which was unnerving in itself, before turning back to their boss.

"Look, Robin," she said, suddenly talking slowly and delicately. "I understand the dilemma we have here. I really do. But there's something you should know."

"Does she really need to be here for this?" Robin asked, jabbing his pen in Emma's direction.

"She does," Regina replied, turning and reaching her hand out. When it grazed Emma's arm, Emma nearly choked. "It involves her."

"Fine," Robin sighed, running his hands through his hair. "What is it?"

This was the dumbest thing she'd ever done, but it was her only shot. Regina thought back to Canada – to her mother, to her loveless childhood home, to the grave of her father that she wasn't even allowed to visit – and straightened her shoulders.

"We're getting married."

Silence followed. Three sets of eyes stared at her.

Eventually Robin cleared his throat. "Who is?"

"We are," Regina replied, her grip on Emma's arm getting tighter. She turned to look at her and found her staring wide-eyed back at her, her hands dangling aimlessly by her sides. "Me and Emma."

Something that sounded like an air raid siren was screaming inside Emma's head, and before she could stop herself, she was choking out, "We are?"

"We are," Regina replied firmly. "It's okay, Emma – I know I told you we had to keep it a secret, but the cat's out of the bag."

Two startled green eyes were still staring at her. When they saw that Regina wasn't messing around, they blinked furiously.

"Yeah," she said eventually. "We… are."

The grip on her arm got slightly looser.

"Sorry," Robin said, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. "Isn't she your secretary?"

"Assistant," Emma corrected automatically. Regina ignored her.

"Yes, she's my secretary."

"And you're engaged to her?"

"Yes," Regina said, smiling brightly. "I know it's not exactly encouraged, but it happened. We spent too many late nights in the office together, and we fell in love. I'm not going to apologise for it."

She was a good actress, Emma had to admit, although she was still floundering several paces behind her. Robin glanced over at her right at that second, and she forced herself to smile back at him.

"Right," she agreed.

After a beat, Robin turned to Dr Hopper. "Would this make a difference?"

"I mean… sure," he stammered, rummaging through his notes. "If it gets made official quickly, it would change everything. Regina could stay permanently."

Those words sent relief tingling down Regina's spine, and she stroked Emma's arm without thinking about it.

"I mean, we weren't planning on getting married for a while. But given the current situation, I'm sure we can speed things along," she said, turning to face Emma again. "Right, honey?"

Emma visibly shuddered before she forced herself to nod.

"Great," Regina replied, turning back to the desk. "So, what do we need to do?"

"Go to immigration services," Dr Hopper replied. "Right now. We need to get this taken care of as soon as possible."

"No problem. And," Regina lowered her voice, looking back at Robin. "There aren't going to be any… issues with this?"

"I mean – of course, it's not ideal," Robin said, suddenly chortling like a governor in a cigar lounge. "But we've all fallen for our secretaries before, right?"

Dr Hopper wrinkled his nose. No one responded.

"It'll be fine, Regina," Robin clarified. "But get it taken care of. Right away."

"Of course," Regina said, her voice simpering and perfect. "We'll leave you to your work, then."

She turned and marched out the door, her chin high and her face plastered with a self-satisfied smirk. Emma stayed exactly where she was, her feet frozen and her mouth still slightly open, until she heard a voice snap "Emma" from behind her.

Emma managed to make it all the way to the elevator before she said, "So… What the hell was that?"

Regina's face was a picture of composure.

"What?" she asked.

"What do you mean, what? Why am I marrying you all of a sudden?"

"Oh. That doesn't concern you."

"I beg your pardon?"

Regina sighed, the impatience heaving out of her. "They were going to deport me, Miss Swan. My visa expired."

"Right. So of course I would have to marry you."

"Yes, because I can't work for Rocinante from Canada and I need someone dumb and all-American to get me a green card," Regina replied briskly. "It's not a big deal, alright? Consider it part of your job description."

"My—?" Emma spluttered. The elevator reached their floor and Regina suddenly strode off, leaving Emma to trail behind her until they were finally safe inside her office. "Regina. I'm not marrying you."

"Of course you are."

"You can't force me to."

"No, but I can gently remind you that you've been tolerating me for two years so far because you dream of being an editor, and if you refuse to do this for me, I'll find a way to fire you for negligence or embezzlement or something equally damning that ensures you never find a publishing job again," Regina said, plopping herself down behind her desk. "And I think you'd prefer it if I didn't do that."

"You just fired Sidney for blackmailing you," Emma said slowly. "And now you're blackmailing me?"

"Yes, only I'm doing it so much better than he did." Regina's smile was infuriatingly smug, and Emma longed to slap it off of her.

"You can't do this."

"Oh, stop being so dramatic. You're not even dating anyone at the moment – you'll marry me, we'll live apart for a year, and then when the immigration office is finally convinced I'm not a terrorist, we'll get a quickie divorce and we'll never speak of it again. It won't even affect you."

She was talking so rationally, and it was making Emma's temples throb. She tried to soothe them with her fingertips.

"Regina – please take a moment to think about this."

"I don't have a moment. We need to go to USCIS office."

"Both of us?"

"Of course," Regina said, grabbing her purse. "You're my doting fiancée, remember?"

"I'm not going—"

"Come along, Miss Swan. You heard the boss – this needs taking care of right away," Regina interrupted. "And do you know what happens if you refuse? I get deported, and Sidney gets put in charge. You remember Sidney? The man whose life you just helped me ruin?"

Blood was rushing through Emma's skull like the worst kind of waterslide. "I didn't do anything!"

"The second he's in charge, he'll fire you, and I won't be able to stop him. You know I'm not lying."

She wasn't. Her jaw was set in a firm line and her eyes weren't blinking.

When Emma didn't reply, Regina said, "So, here's what's going to happen – you're going to come with me now, you're going to lie to the immigration people, and you're going to save my job. And maybe – maybe – once you've helped me with this, I might consider helping you in return."

Emma's ears suddenly pricked up. "Sorry?"

"One favour," Regina replied, shrugging her coat on. "Nothing disgusting."

"If I help you?"

"Yes, but you have to agree right now and you need to stop wittering on about your moral compass."

She pushed open the office door without another word. Emma watched her go, her long black coat flapping behind her and her stupidly shiny hair glinting under the strip lighting. She always wore unnecessarily high heels, and Emma desperately wished she would trip. Watching her fall flat on her face might be the only thing to cheer her up right then.

But she didn't, and she also didn't turn back to check whether Emma was following her. She just strode toward the elevator and pressed the button.

Emma waited for another half a second before she groaned and followed, stopping to grab her leather jacket from the back of her chair on the way. When she joined her boss at the elevator, she could sense the smug smile on her face without even looking.

"It's going to be a really good favour," she muttered.

"Sure, Miss Swan," Regina replied. "Whatever you say."