Page 71 of Burn for Me

My heart pounds as his footsteps fade away, but he’s still not gone from the stairwell.

The elevator.

I sneak out of the closet, checking the cool, gray space to make sure it’s empty before looking for the exit sign. As I move, my paint and brushes slip from my shorts and crash to the floor; time seems to freeze as I watch the container roll throughthe rails. It finally smashes at the bottom, and Sam’s laughter bounces back to me.

“Naughty girl.”

I don’t let him finish before I bolt for the exit and dash straight into the elevator. The couple stepping out probably thinks I’m losing it as I rush in.

“Sorry!” I exclaim, hurriedly pressing the button for my floor. Looking up, I’m met with the confused horror on their faces and a masked figure lingering at the door I just left, slowly disappearing behind the barrier.

I can't stabilize my thoughts or relieve the tremors in my thighs. No matter how much I fidget or shift my weight, I'm still hyper-aware of the throbbing sensation and dry mouth. I glance from the slow-moving numbers to the floor and then at my reflection. Instead of turning away, I take a moment to look at myself. My hair tousled, and my cheeks flushed. There's a small bruise on my calf, but what stands out is that I'm smiling.

My smile fades as the doors open, and I’m thrust into a sprint. I rush into our room, slam the door shut, and lock it. I know it’s a futile attempt—he could break into the White House if he wanted—but at least it buys me some time.

“You’re just delaying the inevitable,” his voice echoes in the space, prompting me to scan the room for him. Unable to spot him, I scramble around, searching for anything I can use to create a barrier between us. However, I stop short when I see his laptop shattered on the floor and my notebooks scattered everywhere.

"Accounting issues," he mutters, causing me to jump at how close his voice sounds. I leap over the mess with a squeal, rounding the bed, and shoot him a questioning look as he steps out of the dimly lit bathroom. With a subtle movement, his eyes flicker to the corner and then back to me.

Right, the cameras.

“I’m glad you figured it out?” It feels more like a question than a statement, yet it draws a ghost of a smirk to the corner of his mouth.Apparently, it amuses him not only to have me running around like I’m practicing drills but also to see me looking completely bewildered, like a deer caught in headlights. I glance at the damp rag in his hand and then at the mask. He’s terrifying like this, and yet I can’t help but feel a rush of excitement when he calmly shuts the door and trails his hand down his abdomen.

“I’m sorry, Darlin’.” Have I ever heard him apologize to anyone other than Tide? Better yet, why is he apologizing in the first place? He steps closer, and I lean against the mattress.

“You still should’ve told me, though. We could’ve figured it out sooner.” His voice drops to a whisper, and it all clicks into place. He has found all he needed to know. Even though it feels like a weight has been lifted off my heaving chest, it still doesn’t make me feel as if it was a good enough excuse for what I did.

“Theaccountantwas adamant about his position and how things were handled.” I pant as he lunges toward me, so I quickly crawl over the bed and cower behind the other side.

“Well, he’ll pay for what he did to my wife—putting so much stress on her when all she was trying to do was protect herself,” he tuts, shaking his head while watching me, trying to determine my next move.

I let out a snort. It’s unladylike and a bit embarrassing, but I don’t need him to seek revenge for me. I’ll handle it myself because one thing’s for sure: I’m not going to let another life I cherish be added to a list.

“What are you doing?” I ask, tilting my head curiously as he reaches for the wooden bar holding up the bed curtains and snaps it off. The soft fabric falls to the ground, and the bed shakes from the force.

“Punishment.” He slams the rod against his knee, snapping it to size and wrapping a rag around the end.

“For what?!” My eyes widen, darting between the stick and him.

“You scared me earlier.”

“By hiding?!” I rush for the door.

He steps in front of the door, and I collide with his chest as the fabric erupts into flames, only to die down into a dim glow. I can’t believe he thinks he’ll put me near a live flame. Behind the glass of the fireplace was one thing, but this…

“By almost jumping,” he says calmly, but the flickering light from the laptop gives me a glimpse of the turmoil in his features, barely concealed through the eyehole. I tumble back onto my butt and wince as a searing pain shoots through my leg while I try to scramble away.

“How did you…? No. I wasn’t going to—” I gasp as my breathing turns into shallow puffs. He steps forward, lowering his hands to his sides, where the fire travels up the rag but stops just before reaching the stick. If he feels the heat, he doesn’t show it.

“You didn’t. That’s all that matters.”

I claw my way up the side of the bed, attempting to escape as I did earlier, but he wraps his palm around my ankle and jerks my body back.

“But now…”

Shutting my eyes, I try to think of anything other than the red and orange hues that can disintegrate anything nearby. I kick to break his hold, but it tightens as he shifts his weight.

“I caught you.” He taunts and flips me onto my back. “So, I get my reward.”

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