The weekend arrived in a rush of noise and luggage. Daniel, Ashley's older brother, hugged her tight, smelling like stale coffee and relief. Behind him stood Roman. He was taller than she expected, built lean and hard under a simple black jacket. His eyes, a cool, unreadable gray, barely met hers as he offered a curt nod.
Dinner was a blur of Ashley's excited chatter, Daniel's familiar stories, and Roman's silence. He ate with an unnerving efficiency, answering only in clipped phrases when directly addressed. Ashley, true to her nature, tried to draw him out, but his presence was a heavy, cold anchor in their warm family setting.
Ashley's POV:
After the dessert plates were cleared, her mother smiled at Ashley. "Sweetheart, why don't you show Roman the guest room? It's just down the hall."
"Sure!" Ashley jumped up. "Come on."
She led the way down the quiet, oak-floored hall. "So, the room is pretty basic, but the view is great in the morning. And hey, while we're walking, you should know about this town. We have the best little diner—you have to get the apple pie. And the lake is beautiful; we should definitely go there before you leave—"
She was rambling, filling the silence with nervous enthusiasm, but Roman remained a shadow just behind her shoulder.
They reached the guest room door. She flicked the light switch, but nothing happened. "Oh, weird. Must be a blown bulb. Hang on, I'll just open the—"
Before she could reach for the window latch, the door clicked shut behind them.
The sudden darkness was total, save for the tall, half-drawn window blinds. Roman's hand was on the switch, holding it down.
"Ashley," his voice was no longer flat; it was a low, rough command.
She turned, confused, but the air in the room had changed. It wasn't just the dark; it was the chilling realization that she was alone with him. She took an instinctive step back, her back hitting the dresser.
He moved into the space she had created, his steps silent and terrifyingly fast. The moonlight, now streaming in through the open slats of the blinds, painted silver stripes across the floor and across his silhouette.
"What are you doing?" she whispered, her earlier confidence dissolving.
Roman didn't answer. He just kept coming, a slow, predatory walk that pinned her against the heavy furniture.
She tried to push past him, but his hand shot out, catching her wrist in a grip that was steel and fire. He moved her with ease until her back collided with the cold wall. A faint sliver of moonlight fell directly across her face, highlighting her wide, frightened eyes.
"Why don't you speak now, Ashley?" he mocked, his voice a low vibration. "Where are all the fun things to talk about?"
He gave her no time to process the conflicting messages. He sank his teeth lightly into her earlobe, a sharp, possessive nip. Ashley whimpered, a small, involuntary sound of shock.
He pulled back just enough to breathe against her ear. "That's right. I own every breath you take, little sunbeam."
Then his tone softened, becoming impossibly gentle, a cruel contrast to his actions. He slowly lifted his free hand and reached out, his long fingers tracing the delicate line of her jaw.
"You are even more beautiful up close, in the dark," he whispered. His thumb brushed over her bottom lip, his gaze locked on her mouth. "I knew you would be."
He trailed his lips down the curve of her neck, moving back up to brush his mouth against the sensitive spot beneath her jaw..."You taste like vanilla," he muttered, moving back to trace her face again, his touch almost reverent. She felt a sickening wave of dizziness, the fear mingling with an unexpected, shocking physical awareness she desperately tried to suppress. When his lips finally brushed her own, a raw, needy sound caught in her throat. She bit down on her own gasp, suppressing the involuntary moan that threatened to escape.
"I've waited a long time for this," he murmured against her skin, his words broken up by the rough trail of his kisses down her neck. "I won't let you go this time. You are mine."
Trying desperately to push him away, her hand slammed against the hard plane of his stomach. As her fingers desperately scrabbled for purchase, they brushed past a hard, cold shape tucked into the front pocket of his jeans.
A chill deeper than any fear she had ever known shot through her. It was the unmistakable, terrifying shape of a gun. The reality of her situation—that the man whispering sweet, possessive words was not just a dangerous stranger, but a cold, armed predator—slammed into her.
She froze, the fight draining out of her, replaced by a paralyzing terror. Her fingers went rigid against the denim.
Roman instantly stopped.
The abrupt halt in his movements was more chilling than his aggression. He wasn't breathing heavily; his body was suddenly perfectly still. The kiss he'd been pressing into her throat lifted, and the heat vanished.
He didn't need a confession. The sheer, petrified stillness of her hand against his side—the one that had felt the cold metal—told him everything.
Slowly, deliberately, he pulled his face away from her neck. The moonlight was just strong enough to reveal the subtle, terrifying change in his expression. The predatory desire was gone, replaced by a ruthless, calculating focus.
He didn't move away. He just looked at her, his eyes like chips of granite in the darkness.
It was the look of a man who had been caught, yet remained completely in control.
"That was unwise, little sunbeam," he said, his voice dropping back to that low, flat command, stripped of all affection. He didn't pull her hand away from the gun; instead, his fingers wrapped around her wrist, pressing her palm more firmly against the pocket.
"Now you know," he stated, a chilling finality in the words. "And because you know, everything changes."
______________________________________________________________________
Authors Note:
Okay, let's just pause for a second. Ashley, honey, you met him five minutes ago. Your mom asked you to show him a room, not sign up for a dark, armed, incredibly attractive villain arc.
If you had asked me what this book was about ten pages ago, I would have said, "A girl, her perfect hair, and maybe an overdue library book." Now? Now it's, "A girl, her panic, and the sudden, terrifying realization that the guy her brother brought home is packing heat and calling her 'little sunbeam' in the same breath."
I told you guys it was normal chaos. I might have understated the 'chaos' part.
Thanks for sticking around for the most awkward (and most illegal) house tour in literary history. Grab a helmet and possibly a restraining order. The weekend is just getting started.
-Vaanni