Page 25 of Under Fire

It didn’t take her more than five seconds to glide from her closet over to the heavy white door that sealed her into her tiny one-bedroom apartment. She’d have to figure out a way to tell him she couldn’t go.

After sliding the lock, she opened the door.

But she wasn’t prepared for what was on the other side.

Warren stood there, tall and built as usual, dressed up in tailored black chinos and a dark green button-up shirt. With the sleeves just slightly rolled up, his expensive-looking watch was shadowed by his ornate tattoos that spilled onto the tops of his hands. His auburn hair was slicked back, and his five-o-clock shadow delivered that dangerous look. It was just the right kind of scary—enough to chase away her demons.

“You’re not ready,” he pointed out, eyeing her in her oversized T-shirt and shorts. “Or, are you?”

Alisa beamed, enjoying his humor. But she forced a serious expression.

“Are you going to let me in?” Warren asked.

“Listen… I’m sorry you drove all this way—”

“No, don’t start with that. If I’m going, you’re going.”

“I can’t.”

“Why?” He crossed his arms, sturdy and unmoving.

She flinched as she heard a car backfire in a distant parking lot. He raised his eyebrow, analyzing her. The way he watched her, seeming to care, reinforced that same feeling she had before, like he was protective already of her. That was the only way it could work.

“What’s it going to be?” he asked.

“Okay. Fine.”

God help me.

She turned back into her apartment, shaking her head. She was digging herself a grave, but he stirred things in her. Inexplicable things. Some risks were worth taking—especially if it were to be her last.

Warren trailed in her wake, making his way behind her into the bedroom. She’d never heard footsteps that heavy on her crackling wood floors, and it occurred to her that Warren was officially farther into her apartment than her fiancé had ever been.

Standing in front of her bed, she exhaled slowly, pulling the loose elastic from her shiny straight black hair, letting the long locks flow down over her shoulders. She didn’t miss how Warren’s eyes twinkled in response, driving a tingling sensation up and down her body.

“We’ve got to get going soon.” He checked his watch.

Even just the way his arms flexed as he tilted his thick wrist made her stir. She let out a long, hopefully relaxing, exhalation.

“I’m having trouble…figuring out what to wear,” she confessed, turning to her closet.

She dreaded that moment, the first of many to come. Sooner than later, he was going to see for himself what her shortcomings were—and why making the deal with her was not his finest choice.

But Warren just laughed, sitting down on her double bed, leaning over. He seemed unfazed.

“Show me what you’ve got.”

The anticipation in his eyes reminded her of her so-called audition. He liked it when she put on a show. He liked to watch her. Turning back to her closet, she bit her lip. She wasn’t good at his game.

But she obeyed. She naturally wanted to follow him. There was security in submitting to a man like him.

Reaching in, she sifted through her top options—pants, blouses, knee-length skirts—pulling them out and showcasing them to him one by one—all the stuff she wore in med school. And, one by one, he dismissed them. Frustrated, she slammed the last one back in. No, she wasn’t a fashionista, but surely things weren’t that bad?

“I’m learning something about you right now,” he said.

“What…? What’s that?”

“That you’re a big fucking nerd, aren’t you?” He shot her a heart-melting grin. “Do you doanythingoutside of school and work?”

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