CONTRACTED: His Dangerous Obsession

Open The Door

Phoebe sat at the bar with her third empty glass in front of her and, for the first time that day, the silence in her head wasn’t screaming Ethan’s name.

Ama looked at the glass, then looked at her. "That's enough for tonight."

Phoebe shook her head slightly. “One more.”

Ama looked like her for a moment and then sighed. "Fine. But after this one, you are dancing. No sitting here and thinking."

Phoebe almost smiled. "Deal."

She gulped down the fourth shot quickly. Almost immediately, Ama grabbed her wrist and dragged her toward the dance floor before she could change her mind.

At first, Phoebe stayed stiff on the dancefloor. Ama began dancing beside her without caring and loudly. As the alcohol caught up, her body began moving. The music was loud and heavy, and after a while, it was the only thing she could hear.

She was mid-dance when Ama grabbed her arm lightly and said, "Give me two minutes. I just saw someone."

Then she disappeared into the crowd when Phoebe nodded.

Phoebe kept dancing from one song to another. Slowly, she began to feel warm, and by the time she realised it, her skin was damp and her head felt slightly heavy.

She turned to find Ama. But she couldn't see her anywhere. She stood still for a moment, scanning the faces nearest to her, but Ama was nowhere near.

She pressed a hand to her forehead and exhaled. "I need some air," she muttered to herself.

Without thinking too much, she turned away from the dance floor and pushed through the crowd until she found a hallway just outside the main club area. She leaned against the wall, breathing slowly.

She closed her eyes for a second, and when she opened them again, she felt like she needed the restroom. She looked up and down the hallway, but she didn't see any sign of a restroom.

At the far end of the hallway was an elevator with its door closed. She stared at it for a second, walked towards it and pressed the button.

The doors opened. She stepped in. Her fingers hovered over the buttons, and the numbers blurred slightly as she looked at them.

She blinked and focused. "Top floor," she told herself, pressing one without reading it clearly.

The doors closed, and the elevator began to move upward. She leaned against the wall, looked at the ceiling and thought about nothing in particular.

When the doors opened, the hallway outside was completely different. It was quieter and warmer. She stepped out and looked in both directions.

She walked towards the first door and tried to open it, but it was locked. The second was the same. She moved down the hallway, trying each door as she passed.

The fifth door was slightly open. She pushed it wider and stepped inside slowly. The room was large and very quiet.

Beyond the room was another door. The restroom door. She could hear the sound of running water.

“Hello?” she called, but her voice came out weaker than she expected.

She crossed toward it, and the door behind her clicked shut. She glanced at it, and when she turned back, the water stopped running.

The restroom door opened, and a man stepped out.

Phoebe stilled completely. Her brain took a second to process what she was seeing.

The man was tall, with dark, wet hair. Water dripped down his skin and disappeared in the towel wrapped around his waist. His eyes found her the moment he closed the door, and sharpened as he watched her.

For two full seconds, the room was entirely still. Phoebe forgot why she was there. Her thoughts slowed completely.

His gaze dropped slightly, then returned to her face. "What are you doing here?"

Phoebe blinked. "What?" she said. "I… I think I came to the wrong room,” she muttered as her brain caught up.

"You think?" He repeated, taking a step forward.

Phoebe instinctively took a small step back, and his eyes narrowed slightly.

Her throat tightened. “I didn’t mean to come in here,” she said quickly. “I was just looking for a place to…” Her voice trailed off.

"Who sent you here?" His voice was low and controlled, and his eyes were scanning the room even as he spoke.

"Nobody sent me," she said. "I told you, I got the wrong room. I'll leave."

She turned back to the door and pulled it. But it didn't open. She pulled again. Nothing.

She turned back to him. "The door is locked. It needs a card." She looked at him. "Can you open it?"

He stood there, watching her. He neither moved towards the door nor towards her.

"Get out," he finally said.

"I am trying to." She gestured at the locked door behind her. "Open it."

His jaw ticked. He looked away from her for the first time. He muttered something she didn't understand, and his hands flexed at his sides.

She rattled the handle again. Her dress shifted as she turned back to face him, riding up at the hem. She tugged it down quickly.

At the same time, his gaze had dropped to her legs. He lifted it back up, and his jaw tightened.

"Get out," he said again. His voice was rougher than it had been.

"I told you. The door is locked." She watched him, getting frustrated.

She looked at him properly this time. She realised that something else was happening with him. His breathing was becoming a bit off.

Something in her head cleared. The warmth of the four shots receded just slightly, and that was when she understood the situation she was in.

"Damn," she said under her breath. "Wrong room"

He looked at her for a moment. "Or wrong night," he said, taking another step forward.

She swallowed hard and took a small step back without realising it.

"Do you realise that you shouldn't be on this floor?" He asked, his eyes focusing on her face as if he was trying to memorise it.

“I think I already said that I got the wrong room,” Phoebe said, forcing herself to breathe normally. "The door is locked. I can leave if you open it."

He watched her. After a moment, he looked away briefly, as if he was deciding something internally. Then he began taking steps toward her. But like he had noticed something about his own body that didn’t obey him properly. So, he stopped walking.

Phoebe stayed still, watching him carefully now.

“Are you okay?” she asked before she could stop herself.

His eyes dropped to her lips when she spoke. They came back up slowly. He took another step and stopped again.

Phoebe hesitated. “Are you… sick or something?” She said, taking a step toward him.

"Don't come closer." The words were low and tight, and they were not directed at her, but she stopped walking.

She could see that he was talking to himself. His eyes were still on her face, and there was something in them that looked like a man losing control of his own body.

"Just leave," he said through clenched teeth now.

"I didn't mean to end up here," she said. Her voice came out quieter than she intended. "I just needed some space."

He moved again, and without appearing to think about it, he placed himself between her and the door.

They looked at each other across the small distance that remained. Phoebe’s breath slowed without permission. He was close enough that she could clearly see the tension in his face.

His hand lifted slightly, stopped midway, then lowered again like he was forcing himself not to act on instinct. Phoebe stayed still, her chest rising and falling a little too fast.

"You should leave,” he said again, "Please." His voice sounded restrained, like he was talking to himself.

“Then open the door,” Phoebe said.

He turned slightly like he was about to step away, then stopped and looked back at her. His gaze dropped to her lips and returned to her eyes a moment later.

Phoebe didn’t notice when her breath caught.

She understood then exactly what was happening with him. She reached out and wrapped her fingers around his wrist.

He went completely still.

"I told you to leave." The words came out below a whisper.

Before she could answer, his lips captured hers. She froze for half a second before she reacted.

Then she began kissing him back.

The kiss deepened. His hand came up to the side of her face, and she stopped thinking about how she might regret this the next day.

Phoebe’s breath broke against his mouth, and that was when he lifted her slightly without effort and carried her toward the bed.

And soon, the indecent sound of skin on skin and moans filled the room.