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“What do you think you're doing?”
“Isn't it obvious? I'm coming with you.”
I look at him, impressed, trying to deduce what he's up to, but I understand he's just trying to help.
All in all, I can't deny that I find the offer tempting because I don't want to be alone right now. I'll never admit it out loud, but Brandon's guards scare the shit out of me.
Our steps echo in the empty lobby. It's a cold reminder of the opulence that fails to comfort. Ethan's hand rests lightly on my back, not pushing or steering, just there—a silent testament to his unspoken promise of safety.
I punch in the elevator code, a series of numbers I've done a thousand times, but now my fingers tremble. He doesn't comment on it, just watches the numbers light up one by one.
We ascend in silence, the soft hum of the elevator like a lullaby I'm too strung out to appreciate. I lean against the mirrored wall, catching our reflection. We look like opposites—his dark and brooding figure next to my lighter frame—but there's something eerily right about us standing side by side.
The hallway to my apartment is deserted, the plush carpet muffling our footsteps. Every door we pass is an unspoken reminder of neighbors who sleep peacefully, oblivious to the turmoil in my chest.
The guards are out there—Brandon's henchmen—and though they can't reach me here, their presence is a shackle I can't shake off.
Ethan's proximity sends a current through me that's part adrenaline, part something far more dangerous. I can feel the heat radiating from his body, smell that same woodsy scent that clings to his jacket still draped over my shoulders. My heart thrums a chaotic rhythm. Fear and attraction intertwine until I can't tell them apart.
We reach my door, and I hesitate before entering the code into the keypad. Will they know it? Have they been here already? I push the thought away and focus on Ethan's presence beside me—a solid force in this shifting landscape of my life.
The door clicks open, and we step inside. The familiar sight of my living room offers no solace tonight. Every shadow seems like a hiding place for unseen threats. Ethan moves past me, surveying the space with an experienced eye—a protector assessing potential dangers.
I should be terrified—I am terrified—but there's a thrill that comes from being this close to Ethan Callahan. His nearness sends shivers down my spine that have nothing to do with fear.
It’s madness—after Brandon, after swearing off men and their complications—to feel this pull toward someone like Ethan.
I watch him move through my space with a grace that belies his size. He checks windows, tests locks. His vigilance a silent vow against threats lurking in the night. And with every careful check he performs, something inside me uncoils, a tension I didn't realize I was holding.
“Looks secure,” he finally says, turning back to face me with those deep brown eyes that don't miss a thing.
“Thank you,” I whisper, though it feels inadequate for all he's done—for all he's making me feel in these stolen moments away from my reality.
“Don't mention it,” he replies with a shrug that tries to seem nonchalant but doesn't quite succeed.
I want to say more—to tell him how his mere presence has become both balm and torment for me tonight. But words fail me. They're too flimsy to convey the depth of what’s stirring within.
Ethan steps closer and for a moment I think he might actually hear the clamor of my heartbeat. He reaches out slowly—as if giving me time to retreat—and gently pulls his jacket from my shoulders.
His fingers brush against my skin and it's electric—a spark that threatens to ignite something neither of us is prepared for.
I should pull away, build walls between us thick enough to rival the ones around this fortress of mine. But instead, I find myself leaning into his touch, craving more of this dangerous comfort he offers without even trying.
“You should get some rest,” Ethan says softly, though there's a tension in his voice that tells me rest is the furthest thing from his mind.
I nod and watch him head for the door with slow steps. But before he leaves, I stop him. “Wait,” I ask.
My hand settles on the crook of his arm.What am I doing?I wonder. But the instant his eyes meet mine, I know that I don't want him to leave.
“Stay,” I ask him.
Ethan looks into my eyes. He looks intrigued, but not surprised.
Partly hating myself for having to admit it, I confess to him. “I don't want to be alone.”
I hold Ethan's gaze, unwavering despite the storm of emotions swirling inside me. His eyes, a deep well of brown, search mine as if he's looking for something more than the words I've just spoken. It's a scrutiny that feels as heavy as it is electric, and I brace myself against it.
“Please.” The single word hangs between us like a dare.
