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My hand is still pressed against my mouth, but not because I’m going to be sick. It’s because I can’t believe what just happened. Emma—Emma—my fucking roommate who I thought was just being friendly, just being a kind person by letting me live in her place for so cheap, was trying to kiss me.

That one time she brought that girl home and hooked up with her on the living room couch when she knew what time I’d get home. All those nights she pressured me to go out, to drink more, to “loosen up.” The cheap rent that seemed too good to be true.

It was too good to be true. Because it came with strings I never saw coming.

Tears spill over before I can stop them. I rejected her, which means I’m homeless. In a city where I know no one, with a job that’s barely paying enough to cover student loans, let alone first month’s rent and security deposits somewhere else.

I can’t believe this is happening.

Strong arms wrap around me from behind, and for a split second I panic—until I realize the person who saved me from Emma upstairs wasn’t some random club patron.

It’s Slater.

He’s so tall that even in my heels, the top of my head barely reaches his shoulder. So broad that his presence feels like a wall between me and the chaos of the club. And so raging mad that I can practically feel the fury radiating off him in waves.

The memory of him on his bedroom floor hits me suddenly—the way he looked stroking himself, the way he was breathing, the raw vulnerability of that moment. How he couldn’t contain himself. He just had to whip his dick out because I was touching him.

What the hell is he doing here? How did he even find me?

“Sage!” Emma’s voice cuts through my thoughts as she pushes past dancing couples to reach us. She shoves at Slater’s chest, which is like watching a house cat attack a lion. “Get your hands off her!”

Slater turns around slowly, and I watch his expression go from protective to murderous. He takes a step toward Emma, and I can see exactly what he’s planning to do.

“Stop!” I grab his arm, pulling him back. “Please, just stop.”

“How do you know this psychopath?” Emma demands, looking between us with wild eyes. “Is this your ex? The one you ran from?”

I don’t know what to say. I can’t explain Slater, can’t explain that he’s from work. I could get fired. So, I take the easy way out.

“Yes,” I say, the lie burning my throat. “We’re back together.”

Emma’s face goes through a range of emotions—shock, hurt, anger, and finally resignation. She shakes her head and takes a step back.

“Find somewhere new to live,” she says, then disappears into the crowd.

My heart plummets to my feet.

Slater turns to me, confusion written all over his face, but I can’t deal with questions right now. Can’t explain how my entire life just imploded in the span of thirty seconds.

He doesn’t give me time to fall apart, though. His hand finds mine, fingers intertwining, and he pulls me through the crowd with single-minded determination. Bodies part around him like he’s Moses splitting the Red Sea, and before I know it, we’re outside in the cool night air.

His car is gorgeous—sleek and black and probably worth more than I’ll make in five years. He opens the passenger door, and I slide in, grateful for the leather seats and the quiet and the space to breathe.

When he starts driving, his voice is careful, controlled. “You going to tell me what she means?”

I stare out the window at the blurry city lights, tears making everything look like watercolors. “She just kicked me out.”

“For not fucking her?”

I nod, wiping my face with the back of my hand. “I knew it was too good to be true. The cheap rent, the friendship, all of it.”

The reality stings my eyes. I don’t know anyone in this city except for the people at work. I have no family nearby, no support system, no backup plan. What the hell am I doing with my life? Why did I think running away would solve anything?

I turn to look at him, this dangerous man who somehow showed up exactly when I needed him. “Thank you,” I say quietly. “For showing up when you did.”

Instead of saying “you’re welcome” like a normal person, he reaches over and covers my hand with his. The contact sends warmth shooting up my arm, and I find myself studying the way his fingers cage mine, the calluses on his palms from years of handling hockey sticks.

Is he a words of affirmation person, or is physical touch his language? The thought is random and probably inappropriate given everything what just happened, but his touch is grounding in a way that surprises me.

When we pull into his driveway, he comes around to open my door for me. The gesture is so unexpectedly gentlemanly that it catches me off guard.

I stumble slightly as we walk up his front steps, the alcohol and emotional exhaustion making me unsteady.

“Do your demons finally see mine?” I ask, the words slipping out before I can stop them.

“What?” He pauses with his key in the lock.

I shake my head, embarrassed. “Did I ever tell you have a beautiful home?”

He opens the door and steps aside. “After you.”

I walk in and immediately kick off my heels, my feet screaming in relief. The marble feels cool and smooth under my toes.

“Welcome to your new beautiful home,” he says behind me.

I laugh, thinking he’s joking. But when I turn around, his expression is completely serious.

“I’m serious. You’re staying with me.”

The laughter dies in my throat. “There’s no way I’m living with you.”

“There’s no way in hell I’m letting you go back to your place.”

“I have to,” I say, panic starting to creep in again. “I have no choice.”

“You do have a choice. And you’re going to stay here.”

I think about that guest room down the hall, the one with nothing but a bed, a nightstand, and white walls. “In the guestroom you were jacking off in?”

He shrugs, and there’s something in his expression that makes my pulse quicken. “Or...”

He starts walking down the hall toward what I assume is his bedroom. My stomach flips.

“You coming?” he calls over his shoulder.

I stand there in his foyer, barefoot and homeless and completely out of my depth, trying to decide if following Slater Castellano to his bedroom is the best decision I’ve ever made or the worst.