“Behind Closed Doors”
1330 Words
*Harper*
The interior of the car was silent except for the occasional hum of tires and the low rhythm of my own thoughts.
Rafe didn't speak, he just drove like the road belonged to him, in a calm, controlled, unbothered way, not caring about the darkness in the streets around us.
I sat still, hands folded in my lap, my bag untouched beside me. My heart was slowing down, but the tension hadn't left my spine. I wasn't afraid, but I wasn't calm, either.
Then I glanced at Rafe once, hoping for some kind of clue. Why had Rowan sent him? Why was he positioning himself in my life again?
I remembered the firm grip on my arm, the way Rafe hadn't even looked at Lance. Only at me. And his words. “Enough cat and mouse."
As if I'd been the one playing games.
My voice broke the silence. “Why me?"
Rafe's eyes didn't leave the road. “Because he doesn't like messes."
That wasn't an answer. Or maybe it was the only one I was going to get. Did he see me as a mess? That made me frown, it bothered me. I didn't look for any of this.
Why would he think of me as a mess? It wasn't like I asked for his help, or that I was back at his club searching for trouble. This was my world, mundane and simple, boring even, so why would I be a problem in his way?
The rest of the ride passed without another word. The city lights faded behind us until we turned down a secluded side street, then into a private underground garage. The gate opened without a sound, the car slipping in like a secret, and I realized we weren't at the club.
This wasn't public, it was something else.
Rafe parked, stepped out, and opened my door. I hesitated before following, scanning the concrete walls and the single elevator waiting across the space. He didn't touch me, didn't push me. He didn't have to.
We rose in silence.
The elevator doors opened directly into a space that didn't feel like any home I'd ever seen. It was too stark, too clean, too intentional. Black marble floors, tall windows overlooking the city, dim lighting, and long shadows across minimalist furniture. It smelled like leather and cedarwood and something darker beneath.
Rowan stood in the center of it, he was facing the windows, with his back to me.
The door slid shut behind me, leaving me alone in the silence.
I didn't speak.
He turned after a few seconds, in a slow and precise way, and his expression was unreadable.
He was in a black button-up and slacks, no tie, sleeves rolled. I could see his bare forearms, with veins coiled beneath the skin. His eyes pinned me to the floor.
I wanted to speak but I couldn't.
He took a step closer. Then another.
Finally, I found my voice. “Is this your way of scolding me… or protecting me?"
He didn't blink. “You keep placing yourself near wolves. I'm deciding what you are."
I swallowed. “I wasn't placing myself near anyone. I was studying."
“You stayed late," he said. “Alone. Again."
“I wasn't…" I stopped. How did he know? “You had someone watching me."
“I always do." His tone wasn't apologetic, it wasn't proud either, it was just… factual.
“And you think that's normal?" I asked, chin lifting. “To watch some random girl you met once?"
His gaze didn't waver. “Not normal. Necessary."
My breath caught. “Lance…"
“Crossed a line," he said flatly. “And I don't give warnings to men like him."
I stared at him. “So what now? You're going to hurt him?"
Rowan stepped closer, and something in the air changed. “That's the difference between you and me, Harper. You ask if. I've already decided."
A cold flush ran down my spine. Why did he have such an effect on me? His words made me shiver. I hated how much I liked it.
Then he did something unexpected, he slowed. His voice dropped lower. “Why didn't you tell anyone what he did?"
I looked away. “Because I didn't want to give him that power. Screaming, panicking, crying… that's what he wanted."
“Control," Rowan said, voice still soft. “He thrives on feeling stronger."
“Don't we all?" I murmured.
Rowan stepped into my space. Not touching, just close enough I could feel his breath on my cheek.
“Are you afraid of me?" he asked.
I lifted my eyes to his. “No."
He didn't smile, he didn't soften either. But something shifted.
Then he reached up and gently tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers grazed my jaw, in a cold and slow way.
“I should be," I whispered, but it didn't sound like a warning.
Rowan's voice was even softer. “Maybe."
I swallowed hard. “What do you want from me?"
He paused. “To see if you're something I'd ruin… or something already broken."
The words hit harder than I expected. There was no malice in them, but no comfort either. Only truth, jagged and sharp. I didn't meet him wanting to find a thrill. I didn't want to play games, but everything about him made me feel alive.
He didn't look away. I hated that I didn't either. But I reminded myself that I was still in control, that I was still myself, and that I didn't come to him searching for his attention.
“I am not one of those girls searching for a thrill, Rowan," I said, and the twitch on his eyes showed me he wasn't used to people telling him his truths. “I am not broken, nor searching to be ruined. I am not a pawn in a pissing contest match either."
Clenching my teeth and fighting tears of frustration, I turned around and headed to the door, trying to open it, but it didn't.
With a clenched fist I hit it once, and a muffed sound was all I heard.
Then I felt his presence, right behind me, I didn't have much time to react as he pressed his hand on top of my fist and my fingers spread to get a better hold. He pressed my body against the door, his mouth at my ear, his breath brushing my skin.
“No, Harper. You are not a pawn. This isn't a game. This is a dark world, and I am deciding if I let you be a casualty or something else."
I closed my eyes, feeling the side of my cheek pressed against the cold metal door, while in contrast all his body heated against mine.
“Though I won't deny it," he continued, and I felt his other hand grab my hip with force, as if claiming me. “I want to play with you in many dirty, dark ways."
He didn't hide his arousal, as I felt it press against my lower back. I shuddered, and I bit my lips to hide the moan that was threatening to come out of me. A part of me wanted to be taken by him, another part wanted to slap his face and walk away.
The last thin strand of will escaped my lips in a form of question. “Why me? I am no one in your world…"
He bit my earlobe and I couldn't hide the moan that didn't want to stay hidden anymore. “Oh, you are wrong. You are someone," he said in such a cold tone it made me shiver. He then flipped me in one swift move, making me face him, my head tilted up to meet his eyes. “I just haven't decided what you are to me yet."
And he crushed my lips, and I gave in to his hunger.
- Writer
