Chapter 2

Ethan turned out to be an unexpectedly good cook. The pot roast he made was tender and juicy, practically falling apart at the touch of a fork.

He sat across from me with a small knife in hand, slowly peeling an apple. His eyes never left my face.

That feeling came back again—the sensation of being watched by a snake just before it struck. But I focused on the food in front of me.

"You're not going to ask why I did this?" Ethan suddenly said. His voice cut through the quiet dining room like a knife.

"Because you love me," I replied without looking up.

"That's not love. That's possession," he corrected, a strange, almost self-destructive thrill in his tone. "I want to hide you away so you can only see me. I want to carve my name into your neck—"

"Then go easy. I don't handle pain well," I interrupted, casually spearing a piece of roast and popping it into his mouth.

He stopped mid-sentence. With the food in his mouth, he froze like someone had hit pause. After a long moment, he finally chewed and swallowed.

"Sophie, are you messing with me?" His eyes darkened as he leaned in. He grabbed my shoulders and pressed me back against the edge of the table. His breath brushed my nose, faintly scented with wood. "You're trying to lower my guard so you can run, aren't you?"

I looked at his lashes, so close I could count them. My heartbeat picked up slightly.

Not because I was scared. He was just ridiculously good-looking.

"Ethan, why would I run?" I asked. "There's air conditioning here. Great food. Fast Wi-Fi. No nightmare clients blowing up my phone. And most importantly..." I reached up and touched his cheek. "There's a handsome guy with a great body who's willing to take care of everything for me.

"Unless you kick me out, I don't plan on leaving this house for the rest of my life."

Ethan was shocked. The fierce look on his face collapsed in an instant, replaced by helpless confusion. He let go of me abruptly and stumbled back, nearly knocking over a chair. "You... you have no shame."

He threw out the words and fled the room in a total panic.

Listening to his uneven footsteps fade away, I couldn't help laughing. For an obsessive lunatic, he was surprisingly innocent.

*****

Over the next few days, Ethan and I settled into a strange kind of balance. He handled the grocery runs, cooking, and cleaning. I handled eating, sleeping, and gaming.

Every now and then, his darker side would show. Sometimes, he'd just sit at my bedside, staring at me for hours. Other times, he'd scroll through my phone and block every male contact.

I didn't object. I didn't feel like talking to any of them anyway.

Everything was smooth sailing until an uninvited guest showed up.

Ethan had gone out to buy something when someone started pounding on the door hard. "Sophie, I know you're in there. Open up!"

It was Ryan Carter. My ex. The walking definition of an overconfident loser. He'd cheated on me, then had the nerve to try squeezing more out of me after the breakup by asking me to help write his thesis.

I was hiding out behind the door, spying on his furious, twisted face through the peephole.

My social anxiety kicked in so fast, and I could barely breathe. I wanted to run back to my room and hide, but the banging only got louder. "Sophie, you think hiding in there will fix anything? I already called the cops and told them you broke in—"

Right then, the elevator doors opened. Ethan stepped out, carrying two large grocery bags.

The warmth on his face vanished the second he saw Ryan. What replaced it was frost—and something violent underneath. He looked like a demon fresh out of hell.

"Who are you?" Ethan's voice was cold enough to freeze the air.

Ryan turned, sized him up, and let out a mocking laugh. "So you're the pretty boy Sophie shacked up with? Let me warn you—"

He didn't get to finish. Ethan moved. He set the bags down. The motion was so fast I barely registered it. In the next second, Ryan was slammed against the wall, Ethan's hand locked around his throat.

There was no warmth left in Ethan's eyes. Just a raw, destructive urge, like he wanted to erase something from existence.

"Don't touch this door with your filthy hands." His voice was quiet, but it carried a killing edge.

Ryan's face turned a frightening shade of purple. He clawed at Ethan's arm, gasping for air.

Behind the door, I watched the whole thing. And for the first time in a long while, I felt completely safe.

This was exactly what I wanted. A monster who could keep all the trouble away from me.