The Man That Erased Me

Close Call

By evening, Ava had had enough of four walls. "I can't stay locked in here forever," she said, grabbing her jacket before Lucien could argue.

He stayed by the window, arms crossed. "You can."

"You're not my jailer."

"No." His gaze found hers and held it. "I'm the reason you're still alive."

The words landed hard enough to still her for a moment, but not hard enough to change her mind. "I just need air."

He studied her for a long beat, then sighed. "Five minutes."

Outside, the city air was cool and alive with distant traffic, and for the first time since the hospital, Ava felt almost like herself again - until she noticed the black car idling across the street, engine running, two men inside watching her without bothering to hide it.

"Lucien." Her stomach dropped.

His hand closed around her wrist, firm and immediate. "I see them." One of the men opened his door. Lucien's jaw went tight. "Inside. Now."

They made it back before the man reached the entrance, the elevator doors sliding shut just as he crossed the lobby. Ava's heart was still slamming against her ribs when Lucien pulled her close, his hand settling at her waist to steady her.

"They won't touch you," he said quietly, his thumb brushing her hip in a way that sent a spark straight through her.

She felt her breathing change, felt his gaze drop to her mouth, and for a moment neither of them moved. The elevator suddenly felt too small, too warm.

"We're standing on a dangerous line," he murmured.

"What line?"

He leaned close enough that his breath grazed her lips. "The line between protecting you - and wanting you."

The doors opened. Neither of them stepped out.

Heat spread through Ava's chest as Lucien's eyes stayed fixed on her mouth, and when he finally exhaled, it sounded like a man fighting something he was losing.

"You should keep your distance from me," he said.

"Why?"

"Because I'm not a good man."

"You saved me."

"That doesn't make me good." His fingers brushed her wrist, gentle and deliberate, and the current between them refused to be ignored. "Then why are you helping me?" she asked.

For once, he hesitated. "Because you were never supposed to matter to me."

"But I do."

Silence stretched between them until Ava closed the distance herself, close enough that their bodies nearly touched. Lucien went rigid.

"Ava-"

"Maybe I'm not afraid of you."

"You should be." His voice dropped to something low and dangerous. "Because if you keep looking at me like that, I might forget every reason I'm trying to stay away." His hand slid to the small of her back, and for one unbearable second, she thought he might kiss her.

Instead, he stepped back, control sliding back into place like armor. "Get some sleep." Then he was gone, leaving her standing there with a racing pulse and a hunger she didn't fully understand.

Ava couldn't sleep. You were never supposed to matter to me played on a loop behind her eyes, tangled up with the memory of his hand on her back and the low warning in his voice about temptation. It scared her. What scared her more was how badly she wanted to feel it again.

Her phone buzzed. Unknown number.

She hesitated, then answered. "Hello?"

Silence, then a whisper, distorted like it was coming through a broken speaker. "Ava. You shouldn't trust him."

Her blood ran cold. "Who is this?"

"He erased you." The line went dead before she could respond, and she sat frozen, the words echoing louder than her own heartbeat.

Lucien walked in moments later, his eyes finding her face instantly. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Someone called me." Her throat felt dry. "They said you erased me."

His expression didn't change, but something dark moved behind his eyes. "Did they."

"Is it true?"

He crossed the room slowly, deliberately, until his fingers tipped her chin up to meet his gaze. "If I erased you, why would I spend every second protecting you instead?"

"I don't know."

"You'll learn something about the world you've stepped into." His thumb brushed her jaw. "Truth is rarely simple, Ava. And neither am I."

The next morning, Lucien took her somewhere she didn't expect - a private penthouse office with glass walls and black marble floors, the kind of space that announced power before anyone said a word.

"You work here?"

"I own the building."

Of course he did. "Why bring me here?"

"Because hiding you forever isn't possible." He leaned against the desk, watching her. "You stay close to me."

"That sounds like a prison."

"You're free to leave."

"But if I walk out that door-"

"You'll probably be dead before sunset." He said it without flinching. "I prefer honesty."

"Comforting," she muttered, turning to the window. The city stretched endlessly below, and somewhere out there was the life that used to be hers, completely gone. The only thing standing between her and whatever was hunting her was the man behind her.

"Then I guess I don't have a choice," she said.

"You always have a choice." His presence filled the space as he stepped closer.

"And what would you do if I walked away?"

His eyes darkened. "I'd follow you."

"Why?"

He reached out, fingers grazing her wrist, brief but enough to send heat racing up her arm. "Because I'm already too involved to let you go."