Maya’s POV

On the second day, I meet my door open. But this time, I am not scared. It is strange that a tinge of excitement courses through me as I step in, my feet immediately leading me to my bedroom.

"You shouldn't look that excited to see me." His voice, nestled in the dark, makes me jump. He is seated on my couch, sipping from a wine glass that hasn't seen the light of day in a while. His fingers hold the stem too tightly, so I am scared it is going to break.

"Is that…"

"Your wine? Yeah. I found it in the cupboards. However, I must say that I am not a fan. It tastes…weird."

"That is what you get for barging into people's houses and going through their stuff."  I admit that it took me a few minutes to realize how strange this situation is, and I am not proud of that for someone who should take their security very seriously.

Still, I can't explain it, but I feel safe with him. I don't know him, but he looks so familiar. And I have this feeling that he won't hurt me.

"You can't call this a house," he says in the same casual tone, like we are friends talking about the weather, like he isn't a stranger sitting on my goddamn couch. "Everything is falling apart. Do you know how easy it was to break the window in?"

He leans back into the couch and crosses one leg over the other. In that minute, it clicks. I know why he looks so familiar.

I have seen his face on the roll-up banners lining the hospital’s waiting room. He is Saint Lachlan, the greatest sponsor we have at the hospital and the most eligible bachelor in Los Angeles. 

But I have also heard stories. Stories that make me take a step back, watching him warily. 

"You have the worst security instinct." He eyes me lazily. "First, you treat a stranger with a bullet wound and let him sleep in your bed all through the night, and next, you don't call the cops even when you find him on your couch, sipping your cheap wine."

He gets up then, edging dangerously towards me, his icy grey eyes staring straight into mine like he can see through me, like he knows every one of my deeply buried secrets. 

"Saint…" I begin, but stop when I realize I have nothing to say. My tongue has curled in on itself, and I don't trust my abilities to think straight right now. 

I stop moving when my back hits the door, trapping me on the spot. Saint towers over me easily, the casualness gone from his face, leaving in its wake an expression as still as ice that it makes me shudder.

“Saint…”

"Don't call me like you know me, Maya, because you don't."  His eyes turn a dark shade, and he steps even closer to me. My eyes flutter closed as I feel his warm breath caressing my face. I should be scared in this moment. I am scared. Still, I don't move an inch. 

“And look at me when I’m talking to you.”

My eyes jerk open, but I can’t look into his. I find a spot on the ground. 

“I have come to give you a deal. I need to ensure that you don’t tell a soul about what happened here last night.”

"I won't!" The words come tumbling out before I can stop them. "I have only one friend, and she doesn't care about this stuff. No one visits me here, and I have too much already going on in my life to care about…"

"Shut up, Maya, and listen."

"Please, don't kill me," I whimper, finally feeling human when the thought of imminent death hits. I know how easy it is for him to make me disappear. No one would even look for me. 

He scoffs. "I don't want to kill you, Maya. Although that will always be an option if you step a toe out of line."

I peek up at him. He has pulled away from me and is now watching me with a ghost of amusement in his eyes. 

“You won’t kill me?”

“I’m offering you protection and a bit more financial stability.” He looks around to prove his point. 

My eyes narrow. "Protection? From who? I have lived here for more than five years now, and this is the first time anyone has broken into my house. I need protection. You're right! But the only person I need protection from is you."

“I was shot in the alley close to your apartment last night, and the people who shot at me knew I came into one of the buildings in the area. Can you guess what would happen to everyone living here, or should I spell it out for you?”

“I know what happens to those who cross people like you.”

"No, you don't." His voice drops into a whisper. "The people who shot at me will stop at nothing until they find me, and they won't mind killing every single person in the area just to get to me. But it will be worse for you when they find out you are a nurse. What are the chances of me leaving here alive if I hadn't been treated?"

Maybe it is the way he says it, or the sudden darkness in his eyes. But I feel every bit of those words. The image of my brother, his eyes wide open, lifeless, with a pool of blood surrounding him like a halo, suddenly taints my imagination, and a chill erupts in my spine.

"Who are these people, and why did they shoot at you?" I whisper, unable to shake the feeling of dread off me.

“That is none of your business, Maya.”

"It is. And I am not going anywhere with you. This is my home, and not even some sleazy bastards can chase me out of it. I don't need your protection or your money."

“Too late,” he mutters, just as I hear a loud bang coming from my bedroom. In a split second, Saint grabs my hand and pulls me in the direction of an escape I had no idea existed until today.