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EVIE

Since arriving in New York City just a few months ago, I’ve turned down more men than I can count. They’re all the same, pretending to be impressive when they’re all the same, run-of-the-mill boys just looking for a quick thrill. Despite growing up in a small town, I like to think I’m fairly smart and perceptive; I’m not the na?ve little girl everyone sees.

All the men scatter as soon as I call them out on their bullshit—except Red. He doesn’t leave, and that throws me. He’s older, much older than the usual idiots who think they can charm me into going home with them. The sharp lines around his dark, nearly black eyes speak of a life I can’t begin to imagine, giving him a weight that feels different. It makes me curious. I shouldn’t want to know more about him, but I do. And, against my better judgment, I can’t stop thinking about how it might feel to run my hands over his buzzed black hair.

“I think I know what I’m talking about,” I say, surprised by how easily the words come. Normally, it takes me a while to feel this comfortable with someone, to let a conversation flow so naturally. There’s an odd connection between us, a fire that’s just started. I’m nineteen, but I know when I feel a pull towards someone.

“You’re cute,” he says. I can feel my cheeks reddening as he smiles. “There’s a whole world you don’t know about.”

“There’s plenty I don’t know,” I say matter-of-factly. I try to clear my throat discreetly, my heart rate picking up its pace under the weight of his stare.

"I think you don’t know anything about guys like me," Red says, his body easing into a relaxed stance. He’s enjoying this, clearly amused by the way I’m starting to stumble over myself.

And I can’t lie… I think I like it. The way he’s toying with me sends a wave of heat through me, a warmth that settles deep in my stomach. My body reacts in ways I’ve never quite felt before, a pulse low in my core that’s both thrilling and disarming.

“Yeah?” I say in an attempt to regain my control. “Prove it then. Show me you’re not exactly the kind of guy I think you are.”

“Okay,” Red says with a shrug as he pulls himself to his feet. He offers me his hand, and I get a glimpse of tattoos underneath his sleeves. I stare for a beat too long before taking it. “I’ll show you.”

“Where are we going?” I ask, glancing over my shoulder at my things still sitting at the table. “My–”

“Don’t worry about your things,” he says, leading me through a door I hadn’t noticed before. “No one’s coming in.”

He leads me up a set of dimly lit stairs, and the thought crosses my mind that I should probably be scared. Isn’t this how horror movies start? Isn’t this how people end up as a headline on the nightly news? But Red said he’d protect me, and somehow, I believe him. My small hand fits securely in his larger one, a steady reassurance in the shadowy stairwell. Whatever waits at the top of these steps, I know I’ll be okay. Safe. Because of him.

We pause as Red unlocks the door, and before I know it, we’re stepping into an apartment—or at least, that’s what I think it’s supposed to be. It doesn’t feel like one at first glance. A poker table dominates the space where a living room should be, and the kitchen looks like it’s been completely transformed into a bar. It’s not what I expected, but somehow, it suits him perfectly.

“I… don’t understand,” I say, my voice uncertain as I glance around. None of this explains anything, let alone proves who he says he is. “This is just… a weird apartment.”

Red steps closer, his presence filling the space between us. He leans down, his lips grazing the shell of my ear as he murmurs, “Well, if I tell you what this is—what kind of things happen here—you won’t be able to go back to a normal life. You’ll have to be mine. I won’t let you go back to what you knew before.”

His words send a shiver down my spine, equal parts warning and promise. I lean back slightly to stare up into his menacing eyes. He’s serious. Dead serious. I can’t bring myself to ask if he’s lying or trying to joke with me.

“O-okay…tell me, then.”

“You’re agreeing to my terms,” he says flatly, his eyes falling to my mouth before his voice drops to a whisper. “No going back.”

I swallow. “No going back.”

Red takes in a sharp breath before stepping back and glancing around the apartment. He takes my hand and spins me around before resting his hands on my hips.

“This isn’t just a restaurant. It’s a front. Ever wondered why you’re one of maybe three customers who come here?”

She scoffs. “I’ve seen more than three people in here before.”

“Sure, it happens,” he murmurs, dragging his palm up my side, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. “And this weird apartment is where we hold high-dollar poker games, and where we keep our gambling books.”

“You’re making this up,” I say, trying to wiggle away from him. “There’s no way.”

“There isn’t?” he asks, tilting his head playfully.

I want to argue, to insist that it’s not true. But something about the way he says it—so calm, so utterly sure—stops me. He doesn’t care whether I believe him or not; it’s written all over his face. My opinion doesn’t matter, not to him, not in the way that would change anything he’s just said. And that certainty gives me pause. Maybe he really is telling the truth.

“No,” I say firmly, determined to stick to my guns even as his proximity and the intensity in his eyes make my head swim. “It’s not true. You’re just trying to impress me.”

The words feel steady enough, but the way my voice wavers at the end betrays me.

“Well?” Red murmurs, resting a hand on the junction between my neck and my shoulder, and I shudder at the contact. “Is it working? Are you impressed?”

Am I panting, or does he keep a pet dog in here? I’m suffocating in a cloud of lust for this man and all I know is that I like it…a lot.

“Maybe,” I admit.

“Then you’ll be even more impressed when you find out that I’m telling the truth,” he says as he pulls me against him.

Our lips collide, and it’s like my entire body catches fire. I throw my arms around his neck, letting him pull me impossibly closer. His body is solid muscle, and I can’t help but wonder what he looks like beneath his clothes. The strength in him is undeniable, and the thought of feeling more sets me ablaze.

I struggle to match the rhythm of his kiss, his experience far outpacing mine. A flicker of insecurity blooms—will he notice how clumsy I am? But I push the thought aside, giving him every ounce of passion I have.

He growls, the sound reverberating through me, more sensation than sound. A whimper escapes me, unbidden, raw, and needy. It’s like he’s my lighthouse in the middle of a storm, guiding me to clarity I didn’t know I needed.

How was it not obvious before this moment? Red feels like my future—like he’s where I’m meant to be. Whether or not he was serious about this room and the restaurant doesn’t even matter right now. All I know is him.