Meet Scarlett Striker, a bold and quirky journalist for the Seattle Times. She's fun, confident, sassy, and just the right amount of weird. Scarlett is determined to rise to the top, no matter what it takes.
When her boss offers a golden opportunity...
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I step out of Elizabeth's room, the sound of James's footsteps close behind me, heavy and relentless. I don't need to look at him to feel the tension radiating from him, like a storm cloud building with every step. My patience is wearing thin. I told him last night I didn't want to see him anymore, that whatever twisted thing we had was over. Finished. For real this time.
But, of course, James doesn't let go that easily. If anything, the silence between us now feels more volatile, a ticking bomb waiting to go off. Halfway down the hallway, I stop, leaning against the wall, forcing myself to turn and face him. He's watching me with that dark, unreadable gleam in his eyes, the kind that sends a chill down my spine but also fires up every ounce of defiance in me. I stand my ground, refusing to back down.
"James," I begin, my voice low but firm. "I told you, this," I say, motioning between us, "it's over. You've been trying to kill Elizabeth, and I have no idea what you planned for me. How am I supposed to ignore that?"
He takes a step closer, his gaze hardening. "I don't think you understand, Scarlett. I've never had plans to hurt you."
"And you think that makes everything okay?" I snap back, meeting his intense stare without flinching. "You've shown me, over and over, that you'd do anything—hurt anyone—to get what you want. Elizabeth was just a means to an end for you, wasn't she?"
His jaw tightens, and for a split second, a flicker of something vulnerable crosses his face before he shuts it down, his expression becoming a mask of control. "You're not part of this equation, Scarlett. But don't pretend you don't know what I feel for you."
"What you feel for me?" I scoff, my voice filled with bitter disbelief. "You think I can ignore what you're capable of? You want loyalty, James, but you've given me every reason to doubt you."
His eyes narrow, and he takes another step, crowding me against the wall. "Be very careful with your words," he warns, his voice dangerously soft. "What I feel for you... it's real. And it's more than you're willing to admit."
I shake my head, exhaling sharply. "Maybe it is, but it doesn't change a damn thing. Whatever this is between us, it's toxic. And I can't do it anymore. Not like this."
For a moment, he just stares, his breathing shallow, his gaze intense. Then he speaks, his voice a quiet, almost pained whisper. "You're not walking away from me, Scarlett. Not now. Not after everything."
"I am, and you'll watch me walk away," I say, my voice laced with finality. "I can't just stay locked up with you, cut off from my life. I'm staying here with Elizabeth, and I'm going back to work. I don't care about Nicolas or the risks."
His eyes darken, jaw tightening. "You know I won't let you," he says, his voice low and unyielding. He cages me in, his hands braced on either side of me, pressing me back against the wall.
I can't help it—my gaze flickers down, tracing the line of his broad shoulders, the slight opening of his black shirt revealing a hint of his chest. My eyes linger on the vein in his neck, pulsing with barely restrained energy. It's maddening how he can still make me feel this way, even now, when I know I should be furious.
