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.

We hide in the disused water closet, as the second trickle pass. Saint presses a hand over my mouth to keep me from making a sound. It feels like forever, as I listen to my belongings getting thrashed without being able to do a thing about it.

Even when I no longer hear them, Saint doesn't let me move, pushing me hard against him for another couple of minutes. He steps out first, retrieving a gun I hadn't seen last night when I treated him and covering the space.

When he doesn't return, I get out too, joining him in the middle of my bedroom. My bed has been turned over, and the contents of my wardrobe are all over the floor.

I turn to look at him, just as a knock sounds on my door, followed by a sing-song voice. 

"Stay here!" I instruct with clenched teeth, before walking out of the room, shutting the door behind me. Saint didn't look like one used to taking instructions, but he brought me here in the first place. The least he can do is listen to me. 

"Maya!" My best friend's voice travels through the building. 

"Hey!" I whisper as I pull the door open, my eyes darting all around to ensure no one is watching us. "I wasn't expecting you tonight."

Her mouth falls wide open in mock horror. "Maya Sutton, don't tell me you forgot all about our movie night planned. I even brought the cans of beer you asked for. You were supposed to make the popcorn."

"Shit!" I press my palm against my forehead. "Ava, I'm so sorry, but today isn't a good day for our movie night. We can..."

She leans in closer and narrows her eyes. "Why are you whispering?" And then she looks behind me, a knowing smile stretching through her face. "Is there a man in there, Maya? Is that what this is about?"

"Ava..."

"You don't have to lie to me about it," she chuckles. "God knows how long I have waited to hear you say those words. You live like a hermit, and I was beginning to get worried about you."

"Well, you have no reason to do that anymore," I whisper, already feeling bad for lying to my best friend. "Why don't you..."

"Of course!" She chirps, pulling away from the door, a light spring in her steps. "I'll leave you to finish what you started.

Ava walks away from the door and then calls over her shoulder abruptly as she disappears from view. "Don't forget to use protection! They taught us enough of that in nursing school."

"Did you tell your friend we were having sex, Maya Sutton?"

I jump and turn around. His gun has been safely tucked away, but I still can't wrap my head around the fact that something like that was in my apartment. 

"You need to leave, Saint. I have to tidy up my house and get ready for work tomorrow."

Surprisingly, he doesn't argue as he walks around me to the door. "I left my card on your bed. Call me if anything happens."

"Let's not meet again, Saint Lachlan."

"My men are already around this building, just in case you remain stubborn and choose not to call me."

"Goodnight, Saint."

I pull the door open and watch as he saunters out before closing it again. The silence inside the apartment is deafening, and it feels like so much has happened in the space of twenty-four hours.

Changing out of my uniform, I start cleaning, putting everything back where they are supposed to be. The window in my room is still broken in, but the shards of glass on the floor appear different from the ones that were there last night, almost as if it was fixed before the new attack, only a few minutes ago. 

I have just had my bath, with my towel wrapped around my frame, when the smell hits. 

The smell of burning paper.

Rushing to the window overlooking the bookstore downstairs, I see the flame licking everything inside the building, bits of paper flying into the air, and the windows breaking with a loud groan.

I remain there, frozen with shock and bouncing on my feet. Before my brain finally processes what is happening, my front door suddenly crashes with a deafening sound, broken particles flying through the living area. 

I push back away from the window just as Saint storms inside, his coat billowing behind him and his eyes burning with such intensity that I don't know which to be scared of the most, the burning building or the man in front of me. 

His eyes darken as his gaze meets mine, wet, shaking, and wrapped in nothing but a towel. I see the primal look flash through his eyes, so fast that I might have been mistaken. 

My hands move up to hold the towel tighter, but it's too late. It slips off my body, landing on the ground in a silent whisper. I cannot move, cannot breathe, as Saint takes one slow step forward, and then another. 

My breath hitches as he tosses a hoodie and leggings in my direction. "Put these on," he growls. "Now."

I finally move, my feet coming as I shrug into the clothes, wondering where they came from. Saint disappears into my bedroom and reappears a minute later with a duffel bag. A man in a dark suit accompanies him, and I am glad I am already covered. 

"Saint..." I start, but the sharp look in his eyes makes me press my lips together grimly. 

"They burned the bookstore, Maya. If that doesn't scare you, I don't know what else will."

He hands the duffel back to the man standing next to him, then stalks closer to me, grabbing my wrist. "Let's go."

Saint doesn't give me an option as he pulls me with him towards the door and out into the cool night air. The firefighters are already on the scene, the whoosh of their hoses singing in the air. 

We're almost at the gleaming black car, when I pause, a strange chill crawling up my spine. From the corner of my eyes, right before Saint pushes me into the car, I see it.

A figure, hooded by the darkness, watching us.

She hasn't said a word since we left her apartment, since the towel slipped off her body. Not even in the elevator, when it glitches for a minute, the threat from her apartment looms around. 

I hear her feet behind me, clacking on the cold tiles as we stepinto my penthouse. The door clicks shut behind us, just as Lucio, my right-hand man, disappears around the corner with her bag. 

I should be thinking about the men who set the building on fire, and planning ways to get back at them. Instead, all I can think about is her fucking skin.

The way to towel clung to her frame a second longer before it dropped to the floor. And her lips...the way they parted slightly, her eyes wide open, like she didn't know whether to run away from me or stay rooted to the spot. 

"Fuck!" I mutter to myself, heading towards my bar in one corner of the vast living area. Sliding onto the stool, I retrieve my favorite bottle of brandy, pouring myself a healthy amount before returning the bottle.

I can still feel her behind me, her eyes scanning the place like she has been dropped into another universe. She probably has, because although she doesn't know it, her life has just taken a dramatic turn. 

"Where are we?" She questions, her voice finally piercing through the silence.

"My home." I stir the contents of the glass slowly, bringing the rim to my lips. "You are safe here. No one will touch you."

She scoffs. "I wouldn't have been in danger if you hadn't come into my apartment last night. I would have still been in there by now, eating popcorn with my best friend and seeing some corny romance movie. It would have been better than this. Hell, anything is better than this."

I turn around then, lifting my brow. "My showerhead doesn't fall off when I breathe. My windows don't cave in easily, and I sure as hell do not live in a dingy apartment above a bookstore, desperately holding on to life."

"You can flaunt your money as much as you like, but at least my apartment felt like home. This...I don't even know what it is."

I try to look at the living area through her own eyes. Every surface is devoid of a personal touch, save a few artworks lining the white walls. The black couch blends perfectly, accentuated by the dark drapes, the black rug, and the black coffee table in the centre.

"You see life in colors," I murmur, taking a small sip and letting the heat burn my throat. "But that won't get you the survival you want."

"I am not searching for survival," she shoots back, but I know as much as she does that that is a lie. Her limbs quiver as she moves towards the wall on one side. Maya is scared, but she has grown so used to hiding every bit of emotion that the last thing on her mind is letting me through the walls she has erected.

Walls that I shouldn't even be thinking about breaking down. 

As her hand grazed the painting of a half-naked woman bathing under the sun, I remember her, standing naked by the window, her towel in a pool at her feet. She has the body of a goddess, the setting sun on her petite curves making her look even more ethereal.

I try to bury the image along with the rest of my dark memories, but it just keeps resurfacing. 

Swallowing instinctively, I take another sip of my brandy. 

"Do you do this often?" She asks, still standing by the image. "Snatch women from their homes and lock them in your penthouse?"

"Do you think you are locked in?"

Her hair whips around her as she turns to look at me. "What is this, then? Why did you come into my apartment the night you got shot? How did you know I was a nurse? How did you know my name?"

Those are questions I cannot answer. 

"You came with me, Maya," I remind her, sliding off the stool. "When I grabbed your hands and pulled you with me, you didn't run away. Not once did you attempt to get out of the car."

"Would you have let me?"

"I walked out of your house earlier today when you asked me to leave. It wouldn't have been any different."

"It would have been!" she yells, her voice bouncing off the walls. "Because you waltzed into my life and set everything I knew on fire. Because I know that I have nowhere else to go. I cannot put Ava's life in danger, just as you have done to mine."

I stare at her. "You have me now."

She sighs exasperatedly, shaking her head. I am not offering kindness, and Maya knows it. 

The shrill of my phone on the bar top erupts the atmosphere. I don't need to look to know it's Lucio calling. I instructed him to get back to the scene when he dropped off Maya's bag. 

Looking away from her, I retrieve my phone, scanning the screen. 

An unknown vehicle has been spotted near her apartment minutes after we left. We haven't been able to ID him yet, but one thing we know is that it is a man with a mask on.

My hand fold into a fist. Maya is right. I shouldn't have gone into her apartment last night. Now, I have made her a target as well, after keeping her safe for over five years. 

Tossing the phone back to the bar top, I head down the hallway, my half-finished brandy still in my hand. "I'll show you to your room," I call over my shoulder.

"Saint."

Something about her voice causes me to halt. 

"What happens now?"

I angle my head, turning just enough to look at her. She is standing in front of the ceiling-to-window, the city of Los Angeles lit up behind her. 

"You get absorbed into my world."