THE NAME IN HIS MOUTH
685 Words
Caroline’s throat was dry.
Reuben stood just a few feet from her, his expression unreadable — but something in his eyes made her chest tighten. It wasn’t anger. Not exactly.
It was worse.
It was interest. Dangerous interest.
“I’m not a thing,” she repeated, firmer this time, even though her voice didn’t carry as much strength as she wanted.
He just stared at her.
That slow, intense kind of stare that made her feel like he was peeling her apart with his eyes.
“You know what I remember most about that night?” he said, finally.
She didn’t answer.
“Your voice. The way you said my name like you didn’t care who I was.”
He took a step closer. Her spine stiffened.
“You weren’t scared of me. Not like the others.”
“I didn’t know who you were,” she said.
“You do now.”
Silence.
He closed the distance between them. Not all the way, just enough to invade her space, just enough for her to smell his cologne again. Dark, masculine, expensive.
He tilted his head. “You know, most people crawl for my attention.”
“Then maybe they’re stupid.”
A short laugh escaped him — low, sharp.
“You’ve got a mouth on you,” he said.
Caroline met his gaze, trying not to blink. “And you’ve got a god complex.”
For a second, his smile dropped.
Then, slowly, it returned — softer, darker.
“You’re not wrong.”
He turned away, walking toward a marble table near the window. His fingers brushed the surface, then curled around a short glass filled with something amber.
“You work at that bar because you need the money.”
She narrowed her eyes. “So what, you’ve been stalking me?”
“I’ve been... observing.”
“That’s not better.”
Reuben turned back to her. “You live with your mother and little brother. Your dad’s not around. You’ve taken three jobs in the last six months and quit two. You're two weeks behind on rent. You skipped dinner last night, and you're wearing the same shoes you had on three nights ago.”
Her stomach twisted.
“What do you want from me?” she asked.
He walked back to her, slowly. Calm, confident, like he had all the time in the world.
“I want to give you something.”
Caroline frowned. “You want to give me something?”
He nodded once. “A better job.”
“I don’t need—”
“You’d be paid weekly. More than what that bar gives you in a month. You’ll work for me. Clean jobs. Nothing illegal. You stay close when I need you. You don’t run. And you listen.”
She stepped back. “That sounds a lot like ownership.”
His voice dropped. “It’s protection.”
“I didn’t ask for that.”
He leaned in slightly, his voice quiet but deadly clear.
“You didn’t have to. The second you walked into that room, you became visible. And in my world, that’s enough to make you a target. You’re mine now, Caroline — whether you like it or not. And the only thing standing between you and a bullet is me.”
Her heart slammed against her ribs.
“Is that a threat?”
“No,” he said. “It’s the truth. The kindest version I could give you.”
The room felt smaller. Her breath came faster. And still, she didn’t move.
He reached into his coat, pulled out a black card, and slid it across the glass table beside her.
“Think about it,” he said. “But don’t take too long.”
Then he turned and walked away, his back to her like the conversation was already done.
But just before he disappeared down the hall, he paused.
And without looking back, he said it — soft, low, like a secret laced with hunger:
“I like the way your name tastes in my mouth.”
Then he was gone.
- Writer
