His Ballerina

We make the drive in silence, with my nails digging into my palms the entire time. Where’s he taking me? What’s he planning to do once we get there?

It doesn’t take long to find out. Before I know it, we’re in a much nicer part of the city. Skyscrapers tower around us. I could disappear here, and nobody would ever know. I’m nobody—less than nothing. And I can’t seem to get away from this man.

He pulls around to a garage behind one of those skyscrapers and slides the SUV into a spot close to the entrance. He helps me out of the car, though I don’t need the help, and walks me to a door at the far end of the garage. After typing a code into a keypad, the door opens, and we step into a lobby.

I have so many questions, like how he can afford an apartment in a fancy building like this, with security code access and marble floors in the entry and everything. Maybe it wouldn’t be a big deal to him, but it’s very much a big deal for a girl like me.

“Come on. Hurry up.” He tugs my arm when I slow down to take a look at everything around me, pulling me into the elevator and looking back and forth before following me inside. Like he’s on the lookout at all times. He probably is.

Maybe I’m assuming too much. “Do you live here alone?” Why am I whispering?

He doesn’t answer my question. Instead, he hustles me out of the elevator and propels me to a door where another keypad stands between us and entry. I notice how he shields the keypad and wonder if it’s me he doesn’t trust or the rest of the world.

“Now I won’t have to worry about you.” He sounds genuinely relieved once we’re inside the spacious apartment. The man has money; that much is obvious. But it’s… cold. Not very homey. What did I expect? He doesn’t strike me as the warm-and-fuzzy type.

There’s no time for a tour, obviously. He’s all business, striding down the hall, past the sleek living room and open kitchen, coming to a stop, and flipping the light switch just inside an open door. I realize we’re standing in front of a bathroom bigger than anything I’ve ever seen before. It even has a tub and a separate shower stall that looks like it could hold five full-grown people at once. “It’s the size of my apartment.”

I didn’t mean to say it out loud. Archer snorts, going to the deep clawfoot tub and turning on the water. “I bet it is. Don’t worry. You won’t have to look at that place ever again.”

Before I can ask what he means by that, he turns to me and takes off his jacket. He’s wearing a black T-shirt underneath—it seems to be his color—and I can’t help but notice his broad chest, his thick biceps, the flat stomach, and slim waist. I once heard somebody described as being built like a brick shithouse, but I never understood what that meant until now.

This is a strong man. A powerful man. The sort of man a girl doesn’t refuse unless she wants a lot of trouble.

What does that mean for me?

His eyes travel over my body, and I can’t help but shrink a little when it’s obvious he disapproves. He reaches out and takes the bag from my shoulder, then starts peeling off my jacket.

“What are you doing?” I cross my arms over myself and try to pull away, but it’s no use.

“I’m getting you out of these awful clothes. They stink like that place. The grocery store, the diner, the gym. That rathole of an apartment.”

He must notice how hard I’m shaking now because something in his voice changes. He’s not scolding me when he takes my chin in the palm of his hand. “I’m not going to hurt you. I swear.”

I wish I could believe him. I want to believe him. He’s just so… much. So tall, so gorgeous, so overwhelming. I wonder if a woman has ever told him no in his entire life.

I don’t know if I have it in me to be the first.

“Do you believe me?” His eyes lock onto mine, staring deep into them. Like he’s trying to stare into my soul. “Do you believe I’ll never hurt you, Madison? I need you to believe that.”

Even if I didn’t, I wouldn’t dare say it. Besides, what’s the harm in taking a bath? If he wanted to force me into something, to hurt me, he could’ve done it by now. Many times over.

When I nod, he continues sliding the jacket over my shoulders, down my arms. “Good. You’ll feel better after a hot bath. I bet you could use one after all the work you did today. You must be sore all over.”