To Color Your Life

He was perfect. A kind of wild beast that is looking at you with superiority. Lock such a person in a cage - he will not lose his strength. You will stand outside and look at him, but you will feel that it is you behind bars, and not a predator that does not take his eyes off you.

Justin Evans looked like that.

Emily burst into his office without warning. She didn't behave the way she should behave with her boss. She thought that she would take the man by surprise, shake his restraint, throw him off balance in order to get to the bottom of the truth.

But she was wrong.

She saw it in his eyes. In a confident and mocking look. It was as if a man was waiting for her to come and was now enjoying the culmination of the show that he had been preparing all this time.

He didn't look surprised. He was much less embarrassed, that Emily had ripped his mask off. She thought he was looking at her as if she was a stupid teenager who had been taught a lesson. He showed that there are no pink unicorns in life, caring princes on black Maybachs who are ready to carry you in their arms.

These were all her illusions. And to hell with Maybach and the unicorn. But how in the world is it possible to forget the hands that were pressing her to his strong body with such passion? How to forget hot lips that slid over her skin? How to forget his breath, mixed with her own, when their bodies were moving towards each other turning into one whole being, lifting him and her up to heaven?

Emily did not consider herself naive. But even now, looking at the man and knowing the truth, she could not believe it. How could he be pretending THAT GOOD?

"So you are married?" she finally asked.

"Yep," he replied.

The answer sounded evenly and calmly, like a statement of a well-known fact. As if she asked him if he brushed his teeth in the morning. And what difference does it make if the teeth are clean when the words spoken by the lips are like rotten rot?

Emily smirked, "Hmm, you've set it up really nice for yourself, huh? Congratulations."

"Well, yeah. Can't complain. Thank you for your kind words."

Thank you? Ha, thank you?! Emily laughed bitterly. This situation and this dialogue were on the verge of absurdity. Jesus, Hayes, how did you get into all this?!

"Mr. Evans, I wonder how you can sleep peacefully after all that has happened? Does your conscience bother you? Although how do you even know what conscience is."

The man arched an eyebrow, watching the girl with irony, "What happened? I don't remember that I did something for which my conscience should torment me, Miss Hayes."

Emily's inner dragon's resentment and rage has broken through all limits.

Does he not remember anything that happened?

"You're an asshole, Justin Evans," the girl hissed and walked slowly toward him.

Initially, she wanted to hand in a letter of resignation, and only then deal with personal issues. So to speak, without any working background involved. But it looks like the man was not in the mood for a fair fight.

Even now, he pretended to be innocent and generally not aware of what was happening.

"You have a pregnant wife and a child, you shameless bastard! And you are honeyfuggling after some random skirts?!"

Evans straightened up at the impending threat, "This is the first time I've heard such an accusation. Do you have proof, Miss Hayes?"

"Oh, I'll make sure there is enough evidence on your insolent face!" Emily grabbed one of the issues of Pharaoh magazine from a nearby table and threw it at the man.

Yes, that was stupid. It was ugly, rude and completely unfeminine. Granny will definitely scold her for this trick for more than one day and make her clean the whole house three times in a row.

Always leave with honor, with your head held high, she had been telling Emily since childhood.

But her honor has now fallen so low that there was no way to raise it back except with some punching. And preferably punching in the face of one shameless asshole!

The man dodged a glossy rocket flying at him. The magazine flew over his desk and crashed into a glass figurine on a shelf against the wall. The figurine staggered and fell to the floor.

"Damn, looks like that was his favorite," Evans muttered to himself.

"You are not worthy to be called a man! Low-grade scoundrel!" Emily kicked her backpack off her shoulder and was about to hit her boss with it.

He barely had time to intercept it. "I completely agree with you. This behavior is unacceptable."

"Do you still dare to laught at me?" gasped the girl. He was really enjoying the scandal!

Evans bit his lips to keep from laughing, "Sorry, but you look like an angry hamster now. You're so funny."

Funny?!

Ding.

The last chord of Emily's composure snapped.

She grabbed the first object that came under her arm. To hell with it if this "conversation" ends with the one crap bag having a direct flight to the intensive care unit with his arm or a leg broken. She already owes him for the broken car light. A broken jaw will be a bonus.

"Miss Hayes, this tablet contains important documents! Put it down immediately!" commanded the man.

"Screw you!"

"You'd better take that organizer over there! If you hit me in the eye with a pen, it will hurt more!"

Still, it's easier to have problems with Evans personally than with the entire Pharaoh publishing house itself. Emily followed the man's advice and threw the tablet back on the table, grabbing a box with pens.

She realized late that she was caught in a red herring. At that moment, the boss grabbed her from behind and squeezed her wrists tightly in his hands, not allowing an inch to twitch.

"Well, let me go now! Don't you dare touch me, you fucking jerk!" Emily tried to break free, but to no avail.

"The main rule of getting rid of anger is not to harm yourself and others. You better shout it out," the man suggested with a slight laugh.

"Stick your advice up to your ass!"

The girl took a step back, resting her body against the boss. To keep his balance and not fall, Evans reflexively loosened his grip. At that moment, Emily pulled one of her arms, turned sideways and hit him into his jaw with her elbow as strongly as she could

The man drew back, rubbing his chin, "Wow, how nimble." His eyes mingled with amazement and curiosity.

Emily turned fully to continue the attack, but Evans managed to grab both of her fists before they touched his chest and face.

"Let it go! I hate you! How could you do this to me?! For what?!" She was twitching in his arms like a small animal caught in a trap.

With every second her rage receded, giving way to resentment and pain.

Attempts to hit the man became weaker until the girl stopped resisting at all and fell on his chest, sobbing loudly.

"How could you… I thought everything was for real, but you… I… I really loved… What should I do now…" Interrupted phrases mixed with sobs sounded in the silence of the office. Emily cried about her broken happiness, in which she dared to believe.

She had never felt so good as being around him. And it never hurt so much.

"Sorry, I think I got carried away," the man gently stroked her back, "Everything will be fine. You better calm down, otherwise, I'm definitely getting a broken nose, this time for real," he chuckled.

Emily didn't care that he didn't care about her. How else to explain that he acted as if there was nothing between them?

She wanted to cry out all the pain, squeeze it out of herself to the last drop, so that she could breathe when she leaves this office. If she does not, then this oppressive feeling in her chest will suffocate her.

She felt his warmth through his shirt, which was damp from her tears. He was so close. And so far away.

He did not belong to her. He was someone else's man. Not hers.

She did not hear the loud knocking and the noise that followed.

"Why the hell did you close the door?!" a formidable roar burst into the office with the crash of the door swung open with him. "Stephanie called me in a panic and said-" the man rushed inside, froze and stared at the couple.

Emily turned her head and looked at him with tear-stained eyes.

A second, another one.

She wiped her nose and turned to the man who was standing next to her. "Ahh?"

"Emily? What happened? Why are you crying?" Evans flew up to her, panic was in his eyes. Evans. The second Evans.

"Jacob, what's going on? Why is my girlfriend crying in your arms?!"

"Jacob?" Emily stared at the one she had just had a battle with.

Wait a second...

Am I hallucinating and losing my mind with grief? Emily looked confusedly from one man to another,  who were like two drops of water.

"Dad!" there was a joyous childish squeal, and the curly-haired angel who made this sound flew up to the man, "Dad, have you finished your work? Will you play with me? Uncle Justin said you were free." The baby crawled into the man's arms and kissed him on the cheek, stared at Emily, "Oh, mom and I saw this lady!"

"Dad?" whispered Emily, not fully realizing what was happening.

"Emy, let me introduce you to Jacob Evans. He is my twin brother," Justin introduced the man, "And this is his wife Melissa and their daughter Melonie," he pointed to the woman and girl who came up next.

"Twin brother... You have a twin brother..." muttered the girl. After experiencing stress and a flood of tears, her brain worked slowly, but not enough to not grasp the situation.

Emily turned her head and looked at Justin. It was definitely her Justin. His look is warm, now full of anxiety. The scent of his eau de toilette that always drove her crazy.

Exactly, that second man even smelled differently. And how did she not notice?

"Isn't that your wife? So... you are NOT married?" Emily asked the man with trembling lips.

"Who is my wife? Mel?" Evans wondered, "Dear, the only woman whom I offered my hand and heart to, was you. And I kind of was refused, remember?" Justin smiled and wiped the moisture off the girl's cheek with his thumb. "Now, explain to me what's going on here?"

He is not married. This is not his wife. And not his child. He is not married.

"J-Justin... I don't feel well..." Emily whispered, and her eyes began to darken.

"Em? Emily!"

She no longer heard the frightened voice of the man, as she lost consciousness.

Skipping breakfast was a bad idea.. Definitely.