Chapter 5

Alexander is home early, and I can hear him in his study making phone calls in the clipped tone he uses for serious business.

I search our bedroom frantically, looking for whatever Derek left behind. In my dresser drawer, underneath my silk nightgowns, I find it.

A single red rose, still fresh, with a note tied to the stem in handwriting I recognize. "For the girl who used to wear red lipstick and ride motorcycles. She's still in there somewhere."

My hands won't stop shaking. Derek was in our home. In our bedroom. He touched my things, violated the one space that was supposed to be safe.

"Sophia?" Alexander's voice comes from the living room. "Can you come here for a moment?"

I quickly hide the rose and note, trying to compose myself before facing my husband.

I find him standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows, still in his suit but with his tie loosened. He's holding a glass of whiskey, which is never a good sign at three in the afternoon.

"Is everything okay?" I ask, keeping my voice light.

"That depends." He turns to face me, and his ice-blue eyes are calculating. "How was your day?"

It's a trap. Alexander never asks about my day unless he already knows something about it.

"Fine. Yoga, then some errands." The lie comes easily, but I can see he's not buying it.

"What kind of errands?"

"Just around. You know how I get when I'm restless."

"Hmm." He takes a sip of whiskey, never breaking eye contact. "Marcus mentioned additional security protocols this morning. You seemed... distressed."

Marcus. Right. The head of security who'd shown up after Derek's first text.

"I was just surprised. You didn't mention changing my detail."

"I don't usually discuss security matters with you." His tone is dismissive, but there's something sharp underneath. "Unless there's a reason they should be?"

My mouth goes dry. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, Sophia, that someone has been sending you messages. Someone from your past." Alexander sets down his glass with deliberate precision. "Did you really think I wouldn't find out?"

He knows. Of course he knows.

"Show me your phone."

"Alexander, I can explain..."

"Show. Me. Your. Phone."

With trembling hands, I pull out my phone. The recent conversations with Derek are deleted, but I know Alexander's security team can recover anything.

He takes it without asking permission, his expression getting darker as he scrolls.

"Derek Matthews," he says finally, and the name sounds like a curse in his mouth. "Your high school boyfriend."

"It's not what you think."

"Isn't it?" His voice is deadly quiet now. "Someone who knows intimate details about your body, your habits, your marriage. Someone who's been watching you for God knows how long."

"I didn't ask for this."

"Didn't you?" He steps closer, close enough that I have to tilt my head back to maintain eye contact. "Because from where I stand, it looks like you've been having quite the emotional affair."

"That's not..." But I can't finish the sentence. Because maybe he's right. Maybe part of me has been responding to Derek's attention in ways I shouldn't.

"You belong to me, Sophia." Alexander's voice drops to a possessive growl. "Your body, your thoughts, your loyalty…all of it is mine. And I don't share what belongs to me."

The words should terrify me. Instead, heat shoots through my body at his sudden display of possession. When was the last time Alexander showed any passion about me, even jealous passion?

"What happens now?" I whisper.

"Now we wait for him to make his move. And when he does..." Alexander's smile is cold and predatory. "He'll regret ever laying eyes on what's mine."

My phone buzzes on the coffee table

.

We both freeze, staring at it.

Alexander picks it up, his face going pale as he reads the message.

"What does it say?"

He looks at me with an expression I've never seen before…something between fury and recognition.

"It says: Hello, Alexander. We need to talk."

Before I can process what that means, the elevator dings in our foyer.

Alexander's expression shifts to something almost like relief. "That would be him now."

"Him?" My voice cracks. "Derek?"

"My old college roommate who needs a place to crash for a few days." Alexander straightens his tie, suddenly looking more relaxed than I've seen him in months. "I should have mentioned it earlier, but business has been so hectic..."

The world tilts sideways.

Derek Matthews is Alexander's old college friend.

Derek Matthews is staying in our guest room.

Derek Matthews has been orchestrating this entire situation, and somehow, Alexander is part of it.

"Derek Matthews," I whisper.

"You remember him?" Alexander raises an eyebrow. "He transferred to some school in Pennsylvania after freshman year. We lost touch for a while, but he reached out recently about getting back on his feet in the city."

Pennsylvania. Where I went to high school. Where I met Derek and fell under his dangerous spell.

This can't be a coincidence.

My legs feel like water as I follow Alexander to the foyer. I can hear voices now…Alexander's warm greeting and another voice, deeper, rougher, achingly familiar.

"...appreciate this, man. I know it's last minute."

"Are you kidding? It's been what, eight years? I can't believe you're finally in the city."

I round the corner and see him.

Derek Matthews, in our foyer, shaking hands with my husband like they're long-lost brothers.

He's changed since high school…broader, more muscled, with the kind of dangerous confidence that comes from surviving hard years.

His dark hair is shorter now, professional, but his eyes are exactly the same.

Dark, intense, and currently locked on mine with naked hunger.

"Derek," Alexander says, turning to include me in the reunion, "I'd like you to meet my wife, Sophia."

Derek's mouth curves into that slow, devastating smile I remember from seventeen. But there's something sharper in it now, more predatory.

"Hello, Sophia." He extends his hand like we're strangers meeting for the first time. "You're even more beautiful than Alexander described."

I take his hand because refusing would seem strange. His grip is warm, callused, exactly as I remember. But there's something else…his thumb stroking across my palm in a caress so subtle Alexander can't see it.

"You look even better than the last time I kissed you," he murmurs, so quietly only I can hear.

The words hit me like lightning. Heat floods my body, memories of teenage passion crashing over me in waves.

"Pleasure to meet you," I manage, my voice barely steady.

"Derek's from Pennsylvania originally," Alexander says, completely oblivious to the electricity crackling between his wife and his old friend. "Small world, right?"

"Very small," Derek agrees, his eyes never leaving my face. "I have a feeling we're going to get along perfectly."

As the two men head toward the guest wing, chatting like old friends, Derek glances back at me one more time.

The look he gives me is loaded with promise and threat in equal measure.

You're mine, that look says. You always have been. And now I'm close enough to take you back.

I can't sleep knowing Derek is in the room down the hall.

Alexander is beside me, his breathing deep and even, completely oblivious to the fact that his wife is lying awake thinking about another man.

A man who's sleeping twenty feet away in our guest room.

The digital clock reads 2:47 AM when I hear soft footsteps in the hallway.

My heart hammers against my ribs. Is Derek getting water? Using the bathroom? Or is he doing something else entirely?

The footsteps pause outside our bedroom door.

I hold my breath, straining to listen. Nothing but silence and the soft whisper of central air.

Then, so quietly I almost miss it, the sound of our door handle turning.

Oh God. He's coming in.

I squeeze my eyes shut and try to keep my breathing even as the door opens with barely a whisper.

Soft footsteps cross our bedroom floor.

Getting closer to my side of the bed.

This is insane. Alexander will wake up. He'll catch Derek in our room and... and what? Call security? Have him arrested?

Or will he realize that Derek and I have a history that goes deeper than childhood acquaintances?

The footsteps stop right beside my nightstand.

I can feel him watching me in the darkness. Can smell his cologne…different from high school, more expensive, but it is still that scent that's purely Derek.

Something brushes against my hair so lightly I might have imagined it.

Then I hear his voice, barely a breath of sound

"Sweet dreams, baby. Tomorrow, we talk."

The footsteps retreat. The door closes with a soft click.

I lie perfectly still for another ten minutes, my heart racing and my body responding in ways that make me hate myself.

Derek Matthews is dangerous. He was dangerous in high school, and he's even more dangerous now.