Chapter 5 #2
"By the way, family dinner tonight," he called out, his voice smooth but loud enough to stop her just before she reached the door.
Evie crossed her arms, her lips pursing in mock thoughtfulness. “Hmm, that’s funny because I distinctly remember us agreeing on a 48-hour notice.”
“This is an emergency,” James said, completely unruffled.
She raised her chin slightly, her eyes narrowing. “We also agreed emergencies cost extra.”
He sighed, a resigned smirk tugging at his lips. “Fine. What’s it going to cost me?”
Evie grinned now, leaning one shoulder casually against the doorframe. “I’ll let you know when I think of something appropriately outrageous.”
“Of course you will,” James muttered, shaking his head but clearly amused. “Just be ready by seven.”
“I’ll be there to drop my stuff and then we can head over,” she said, turning back toward the door, but not before throwing him one last glance over her shoulder. “But seriously—extra.”
Without waiting for his reply, she pushed the door open, stepping halfway out before hesitating. Something made her glance back again, curiosity getting the better of her.
Through the crack in the door, she saw James leaning back in his chair, his fingers drumming softly on the armrest, his head tilted slightly downward as he stared at the magazine Lauren had left behind.
His jaw tightened, the muscle ticking just once, and then he muttered under his breath, his voice low and almost too soft to catch.
“Family dinner,” he said, tossing the magazine onto the table with a flick of his wrist. He leaned back further, closing his eyes, his lips curving into the faintest smirk. “What could possibly go wrong?”
Evie blinked, caught off guard by the way he looked—relaxed but somehow vulnerable, like the weight of everything was only just starting to press down on him. She bit her lip, a flicker of something she couldn’t quite name curling in her chest.
Before he could notice her lingering, she slipped out and closed the door quietly behind her, his words echoing in her mind as she walked down the hall. What could possibly go wrong?
*****
Evie tugged her suitcase behind her as she stepped out of the elevator, the soft ding echoing in the quiet hallway. She adjusted her grip on the handle, glancing at the pristine door in front of her—James’s penthouse. Modern, sleek, and entirely too intimidating, just like the man himself.
She stood outside the door for a moment, her fingers tightening on the handle of her suitcase.
Evie let out a soft breath, her lips curving into a wry smile. Moving in with James Reed. If someone had told her this six months ago, she would’ve laughed herself hoarse. Now, here she was, standing on his doorstep with her life packed into a suitcase.
She raised her fist and knocked, sharp and confident, the sound ringing through the quiet hallway. This wasn’t hesitation; this was her grand entrance.
A few moments passed, and then the door opened—not all the way, just enough for her to see him. And oh, did she see him.
James stood there, barefoot, his shirt unbuttoned and hanging open, revealing smooth, toned skin and a body that looked like it belonged on the cover of a magazine. His dark slacks were tailored to perfection, the waistband resting just low enough to make her pulse flicker before she could stop it.
Her pulse quickened, heat rising to her cheeks as her gaze darted back up to his face, forcing herself to focus. Get it together, Evie. You’re not a teenager.
“You’re early,” he said, his voice low and rough, like he hadn’t quite woken up—or maybe he’d just finished something that left him breathless.
She raised a brow, letting her gaze drift up to his face with a slow, deliberate smirk.“And you’re underdressed. Don’t tell me you greet all your fiancées like this.”
“The word you’re looking for is ‘half-naked,’” he replied smoothly, a teasing glint in his eyes. He leaned casually against the doorframe, his smirk widening as he added, “You’re welcome, by the way. Most people would pay for this view.”
And then, because he clearly couldn’t help himself, he winked.
Evie tilted her head, her smirk widening as she let her gaze flick downward again, slow and deliberate. “Oh, don’t worry, darling. I’m mentally invoicing you as we speak.”
James let out a low chuckle, stepping back to let her in. “Careful, Monroe. You keep looking at me like that, and people might think you’re actually interested.”
She breezed past him, dragging her suitcase behind her, and deliberately let her shoulder brush his as she passed. “Please. I’m just admiring the furniture.”
He raised a brow, glancing at her over his shoulder as he shut the door. “I wasn’t aware I qualified as décor.”
Evie glanced back at him, her smirk sharp as she surveyed the space around her.
“Oh, you do now,” she quipped, letting her suitcase settle near the couch.
Her eyes roamed over the apartment, taking in the eclectic mix of art, books, and travel memorabilia.
“But I have to admit, you’ve got better taste than I expected. ”
James leaned against the door, folding his arms over his chest. The movement caused his unbuttoned shirt to shift, exposing more of the defined lines of his torso. He must have noticed the way her gaze briefly flicked back to him because his smirk deepened.
“Better taste?” he echoed, tilting his head as if considering her words. “I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or an insult.”
“Take it however you want,” she replied airily, brushing her fingers over the armrest of the couch. “But don’t let it go to your head, Reed.”
“Too late,” he said, pushing off the door frame and walking toward her. He moved with the kind of casual confidence that made her pulse quicken again, though she wouldn’t admit it for anything.
Evie turned her attention to the bookshelf, trailing her fingers along the spines of the books. “So, this is home, huh? Cozy.” She shot him a sidelong glance. “For a guy who practically lives in a suit, this place is surprisingly laid-back.”
James shrugged, stopping a few steps behind her. “I have layers,” he said, his tone teasing but with a hint of sincerity.
She turned to face him, crossing her arms as her eyes met his. “Oh, I’m sure you do. Probably all pressed and color-coordinated in the closet.”
His lips twitched, and for a moment, they just stood there, the silence between them charged. His eyes lingered on hers, and Evie felt her heartbeat pick up again.
“So,” she said, breaking the tension as she turned back toward the bookshelf. “Where am I staying? Or are you expecting me to just crash on the couch?”
James raised a brow, stepping closer. “The second room on the left,” he said.
She nodded and looked in the direction in which he was pointing. She meant to walk past him but then stopped, glancing back over her shoulder. “Oh, and by the way, Reed?”
He tilted his head, waiting.
“You might want to button up before your staff shows up,” she said, her tone light but with a hint of a challenge. “I’d hate for anyone else to get the wrong idea.”
His smirk widened, and he took a slow step toward her. “And what idea would that be?”
Her gaze dropped to his open shirt again, then back to his face. She tilted her head, her grin daring. “I think you know.”
Without waiting for a response, she turned toward the hallway, ready to walk off and claim her space, but the sound of his steps behind her stopped her mid-stride. Before she could even turn around, he was there.
James moved in close, his hand braced against the wall beside her, effectively trapping her. The space between them was nonexistent, the heat of him so tangible she felt it ripple through her.
Her breath caught, her pulse quickening as she turned her head slightly, finding his face just inches from hers. His stormy blue-gray eyes locked on hers, sharp and unreadable, and for a moment, she forgot how to breathe.
“You think I know, huh?” he murmured, his voice low, rough, and entirely too close.
His free hand brushed casually along the edge of the wall beside her, but his focus never left her.
Evie swallowed, her fingers tightening instinctively around the handle of her suitcase. She tilted her chin up, refusing to back down even as her heart pounded in her chest.
“I’d hope so,” she replied, her voice steady but softer than she intended.
His lips curved into a faint smirk, the kind that was far too confident for her liking. He leaned in just a fraction closer, the scent of his cologne—clean, sharp, intoxicating—filling the space between them.
“Careful, Monroe,” he said, his tone dropping lower. “Keep looking at me like that, and someone might get the wrong idea.”
Her throat tightened, her body responding before her brain could catch up. Heat flared across her cheeks, her palms suddenly clammy despite her best effort to stay composed. She licked her lips, and his eyes flicked to the movement before returning to hers.
“Maybe,” she countered, her voice soft but edged with defiance, “they’re getting exactly the right idea.”
She didn’t know where all this boldness was coming from. She didn’t even know if she meant the words she was saying. But they came out in a rush, tumbling out of her mouth without a filter to stop them.
The air between them practically vibrated with tension, and for a second, she thought he might close the distance. But then he stepped back slowly, his smirk never faltering.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, his voice smooth but laced with something dangerous.
Evie exhaled, realizing only then how tightly she’d been holding her breath. She pushed off the wall, suitcase in tow, and forced herself to stride down the hallway without a backward glance.
Her pulse was still racing when she reached the guest room. She closed the door behind her, leaning against it for a moment as she tried to steady her breathing.
Trouble. He was definitely trouble.
And the worst part? She wasn’t sure she minded.