"Don’t even think about running."
Emily Blair ground her teeth in frustration.
Of course Andrew Lane was crossing the line—he thought she was Isabella Austin. That’s the only reason he was acting like this.
When Andrew’s hand slid under her clothes, Emily recoiled, slamming her elbow back into his chest.
"Don’t touch me!"
The words came out through clenched teeth, barely more than a hiss. "You’re disgusting."
Andrew’s hand froze. His voice, rough and low, brushed against her ear.
"What did you say?"
Emily spat out the words, each one sharp as glass. "Andrew Lane, you’re disgusting."
He went still for a heartbeat, then suddenly clamped a hand over her mouth, his voice a furious growl.
"Shut up!"
In a flash, he yanked up her shirt, his burning palm pressing against her waist.
Desperate, Emily pressed her forehead to the bathroom door. Behind her, Andrew was like a predator, closing in—there was nowhere left to run.
Was she really about to relive the nightmare from her past life all over again?
Maybe fate took pity on her, because at that very moment, the bedroom door slid open on its own.
Emily summoned every ounce of strength and shoved Andrew away, fleeing through the open door.
Once out, she slammed it shut behind her.
Shaken, she ran blindly down the hallway—and nearly collided with Isabella Austin and Amelia Lane.
Isabella’s voice shot up in surprise. "Ms. Blair? What are you doing here?"
Emily’s face hardened. "Why shouldn’t I be here?"
Isabella grabbed her hand, her nails digging in, voice sharp and accusing. "Ms. Blair, why is your mouth so red? Did something happen with Andrew?"
Emily’s tone was cool, her eyes icy. "No. Don’t worry. I have no interest in your precious Mr. Lane."
Amelia let out a derisive laugh. "Who knows? You’ve never exactly been the picture of propriety, have you?"

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