Christopher's Playhouse

Chapter 12: No NDAs

Los Angeles, California:

Sloane woke to the soft glow of dawn filtering through her curtains. The weight of Christopher's words from the previous night lingered in her mind, like the remnants of a dream she couldn't shake. She stretched beneath the sheets, her thoughts drifting back to the vulnerable man who had shown up at her door—not the sharp, controlled businessman she had grown used to, but someone entirely different. Someone real.

She wasn't sure what to expect from him now. Their conversation had ended with quiet promises, spoken in a voice so uncharacteristic of Christopher that it still left her uncertain. Could he really give her what she wanted? A relationship without rules, without the walls he so carefully built around himself? Or had last night been a fleeting moment of weakness—an anomaly in his otherwise meticulously ordered life?

She wasn't naive. She knew what he was, how he operated. Christopher thrived on control, on dictating the terms of everything in his world. To let go of that, even a little, would be like asking him to dismantle the very foundation of who he was. Still, there was a part of her—a growing part—that wanted to believe in the version of him she'd seen last night.

As she got out of bed, her phone buzzed on the nightstand. Sloane glanced at the screen. It was a text from Christopher.

Christopher: Good morning. I've been thinking about last night. I want to talk. (8:30AM)

Her heart skipped a beat. She sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the message for a moment before typing her reply.

Good morning. Come over? (8:31AM)

The reply was almost immediate.

Christopher: Be there in an hour. (8:31AM)

Sloane set the phone down, her mind racing. She hadn't expected him to reach out so soon, but maybe that was a good thing. Maybe it meant he was serious about trying, about breaking away from the cold, transactional relationships he'd built his life around.

An hour later, as she sat on the couch waiting, a familiar knock sounded at the door. This time, Sloane didn't hesitate. She opened it to find Christopher standing there, dressed in the same casual style from the night before—dark jeans and a simple black t-shirt. The sight of him like this still took her by surprise. He looked almost... approachable.

"Hey," she greeted him softly.

"Hey," Christopher replied, stepping inside.

There was an awkward pause as they stood in the living room, the memory of their intimate conversation hanging in the air between them. Sloane motioned for him to sit, and they both settled onto the couch. Christopher's usual confident demeanor seemed to have taken a back seat to something quieter, more uncertain.

"I've been thinking a lot about what you said last night," he began, his voice low, controlled. "About wanting something real. No contracts, no rules."

Sloane nodded, watching him carefully. "And?"

"And I want to try." He glanced at her, his brown eyes filled with an intensity that made her heart race. "I meant it when I said I wanted to be close to you. I've never felt like this before, and it scares the hell out of me. But I'm willing to figure it out... if you'll be patient with me."

Sloane smiled softly, leaning forward to close the distance between them. "I'm not asking for perfect, Christopher. I just want you to be honest with me. That's all."