Christopher's Playhouse (DAILY UPDATES)

Chapter 7: New Assistant

Los Angeles, California:

Sloane had music blasting throughout her house, she just needed to drown out her thoughts. She sat on her couch, her legs tucked beneath her, replaying the events of the day in her mind. The tension with Christopher had left her on edge, heart pounding with both frustration and excitement. She didn't know why she craved that edge, but it was there, thrumming under her skin like an addiction she couldn't shake.

A sudden knock at the door jarred her from her thoughts. Her heart raced. She wasn't expecting anyone this late, she knew better than to have Dave back over so soon. She knew Christopher was watching, he was way to angry today and though she loved it she didn't want to push him too far just far enough for him to understand. She knew it could only be one person knocking on her door like that. She'd got up from the couch walking over to the front door and opened it without thinking.

Christopher stood there, his jaw tight, eyes dark and intense. The air between them crackled with unspoken words, thick with the unresolved tension from earlier. He looked like he'd been pacing, his hair slightly tousled, his shirt unbuttoned at the collar as if he'd left in a rush.

"Christopher," she said, leaning against the doorframe, her voice steady despite the storm brewing in her chest.

"Are you going to let me in, or should I just stand here and yell for your neighbors to hear?" His voice was low, dangerous, and laced with frustration.

"That depends," she replied coolly, crossing her arms. "What exactly are you doing here?"

He stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, his presence filling the room as if he'd claimed the space. She closed the door behind him, her pulse quickening. She knew what was coming; she could feel it in the way he moved, the way his eyes locked on her like a predator stalking its prey.

"You," he began, turning to face her, "need to stop playing these games." His voice was strained, on the verge of breaking. "I can't—" He stopped himself, running a hand through his hair as if trying to gather his thoughts. "I can't keep doing this, Sloane."

Her brow arched, the challenge clear in her eyes. "Doing what, exactly?"

"Was he here? You fucked him in this house?!" He asked through gritted teeth. His words came out harsher than intended, his emotions spilling over. "You had him here, didn't you?" His voice lowered, the accusation heavy in the air.

"And what if I did?" Sloane fired back, stepping closer. "You left me hanging, Christopher."

 His jaw clenched, hands curling into fists at his sides. "You don't get it, do you? I will fucking make him disappear."

"Then I'll just call someone else to do it! It's you who's not getting it!" She shouted, Christopher moved fast, closing the space between them in a flash. His hand gripped her arm, firm but not painful, pulling her toward him. His eyes burned with intensity, a mix of anger, jealousy, and something deeper, something he didn't want to admit.