Dangerously His

Under My Roof

Thane

Emily never made mistakes. Not in the five years she'd worked for me. She was always ten minutes early, every report was seamless, every meeting planned down to the smallest detail. She remembered the birthdays of board members, the coffee preferences of international clients, and could rearrange my schedule without disrupting a single appointment.

That was my Emily.

Which was exactly why the small cracks in her composure that morning stood out.

She’d read the same report twice, apologized for missing a simple question, and overlooked a figure she’d normally catch without thinking. No one around the conference table seemed to notice.

My eyes kept drifting back to her. Her shoulders were tense. Her smile looked forced and every now and then, she’d disappear into her own thoughts before forcing herself back to the meeting.

Something was wrong.

After years of watching her, of breathing in the faint scent of vanilla that trailed behind her in every hallway, I knew better than to ignore it.

When everyone left, I kept her behind.

She apologized, just as I expected. She claimed she’d only lost sleep and assured me it wouldn’t affect her work.

I believed the second part. Not the first.

She lied with the smile she wore whenever she wanted people to stop asking questions—that painted, picture-perfect smile framed by her beautiful red lipstick.

Fuck, that lipstick. It was a dark, crimson stain that drove me out of my mind every single day. Looking at those painted lips right now, my whole body coiled tight. A heavy, thrumming heat pool in my gut, hot and agonizing. My mind spun out of control, picturing how easy it would be to step around this desk, trap her against the cold glass of the window, and crush my mouth against hers. I wanted to smear that red lipstick all over her face, taste the sweet skin underneath, drag my teeth along her bottom lip until she gasped my name.

Every muscle in my arms locked as I forced my hands to stay resting flat on the table, white-knuckling the wood just to restrain myself from reaching out and ruining everything.

Instead, I offered her the contract. A fake relationship to help secure an important merger, just the perfect excuse I needed.

Three weeks with her by my side, where I wouldn't have to wonder if she’d made it home safely and I can see her whenever I want.

When she finally signed the agreement, excitement settled quietly inside me at the thought of it.

She thought she’d agreed to a business deal. She had no idea she’d just stepped into the life I’d imagined more times than I cared to admit.

---

By the time we left the office, evening had settled over the city. Rain tapped softly against the windshield as I drove her home.

Neither of us spoke.

Emily sat quietly beside me, watching the city lights blur through the rain-covered window. A few strands of dark hair had escaped the tight bun she wore every day.

I wondered what she looked like after a long day, when she wasn’t trying to be perfect. When her hair fell over her shoulders instead of being pinned neatly in place. When she wasn’t hiding behind polite smiles and careful words.

My skin flushed with a feverish spike of blood that made my hands twitch on the leather wheel. The urge to pull over right here on the dark shoulder of the road was suffocating. I wanted to unbutton her blouse slow and deliberate, trace every inch of bare skin until she was trembling, and listen to her break down for me and me alone.

Dangerous thoughts I’d buried years ago. Or tried to.

She didn’t know the dark, terrifying effect she had on me. She didn’t know how many mornings I’d caught myself waiting to hear her heels outside my office before realizing what I was doing or how often I’d watched her through the glass walls of the executive floor, pretending to review documents while mentally stripping away her professional armor.

She certainly didn’t know how many nights I’d lain awake in my empty king-sized bed, aching, visualizing coming home to find my Emily waiting for me. Not in expensive dresses at charity galas. Not standing beside me for photographers.

Just... home.

Barefoot in my kitchen. Curled up on the sofa reading a book. Straddling my lap, her dark hair tangled in my fingers, her breathless moans filling my quiet house while I made her completely mine.

My pants were getting tighter just by the mere thought, how embarrassing.

When we finally reached her apartment building, she offered me a small smile—those red lips curving softly.

"Thank you for the ride."

I nodded as she stepped out.

Most people would’ve driven away. I never did. Every evening, I waited until she disappeared safely inside before leaving. Tonight, she stopped halfway to her apartment door. Her entire body went still.

Something was wrong.

I was out of the car before my mind had fully caught up with my body.

Following her gaze, I saw it. The apartment door was slightly open. A cold feeling settled in my chest, rapidly burning off the haze of lust and replacing it with lethal focus.

I walked past her. "Stay behind me."

She ignored me. Of course she did.

The apartment was destroyed. Furniture lay overturned across the floor. Drawers had been ripped open and emptied. Glass crunched beneath my shoes.

This wasn’t theft. Someone had searched every corner. Or wanted her to believe they had.

Then I saw the wall. Fresh red paint dripped slowly toward the floor.

YOU CAN RUN. BUT YOU CAN'T HIDE, C.

I heard her breathing catch behind me. When I turned, all the color had drained from her face. For a second, she looked completely lost. Like the confident woman from the office had disappeared.

She swayed slightly.

I caught her before she could fall. My fingers dug firmly into her waist, drawing her close against my chest. Her arm trembled beneath my hand. She was freezing.

Fear.

Someone had done this knowing exactly what it would do to her.

A slow, familiar anger settled deep inside me. The kind that always ended badly for someone else.

Emily stared at the message without saying a word. Whatever that single letter meant... whoever had written it knew something they shouldn’t.

"I can't stay with you," she whispered after what felt like forever after I offered to take her with me.

I looked down at her, taking in the violent contrast of her pale skin and her painted red mouth. The raw impulse to lean down and kiss that red lipstick off her lips right here—to taste her fear, to devour her doubt and force her to realize she belonged to me now—nearly took over. My chest heaved, my grip tightening on her waist until she was flushed against my thighs. I had to force my jaw to lock, fighting every primal instinct screaming inside my head.

"You can," I said, my voice lower than intended.

"It wouldn't be appropriate. She frowned.

"Our relationship becomes public this weekend."

Understanding slowly crossed her face.

"If you're seen staying somewhere else before we're introduced as a couple, people will start asking questions," I continued, leveraging every ounce of logic to trap her. "The contract only works if we commit to it."

She looked back at the apartment. There was nothing left here for her tonight except terror.

"I'll only stay until I find somewhere else."

I shook my head. "The agreement we signed wasn't just for public appearances."

She looked up at me, confused.

"For the next three weeks, people need to believe we're together. That means dinners, public events... and living under the same roof."

She hesitated. I could see the conflict in her eyes. She hated relying on anyone.

Finally, she let out a quiet breath. "...Okay."

I took the apartment key from her trembling hand and gently closed the damaged door behind us.

Whoever had done this to scare her, had succeed. What they didn't realize was that they'd also given me exactly what I'd been starving for. A reason she couldn't refuse.

Tonight, my Emily would sleep under my roof.