5 Scarlett #2
My chest tightens painfully. They really did move my entire life here.
I slowly step farther into the room, almost afraid to touch anything.
The closet is even more shocking. Every dress, sweater, pair of heels, and jacket hang perfectly organized by color just like I used to keep them.
Shoes line the built-in shelves while soft lighting glows beneath each rack.
Somehow, they even recreated my vanity area, placing every perfume bottle, makeup brush, skincare product, and piece of jewelry exactly where it belonged. Like they knew this wasn’t just stuff.
It was comfort.
It was familiarity.
It was home.
The bathroom somehow feels even more personal.
White marble countertops stretch beneath gold fixtures while fresh bottles of shampoo, lotion, body wash, and face cream I use are already stocked beneath the sink.
Plush towels sit folded neatly beside the tub, and one of my favorite candles already flick softly near the counter, filling the room with the scent of red apple, fruits and cedar wood.
I walk slowly back into the bedroom, overwhelmed.
“You really did all this?” I whisper.
Asher leans casually against the doorway with his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans, but the tension in his shoulders tells me he’s waiting for my reaction.
“I just wanted you to feel safe here, Red.”
Something in my chest cracks wide open at those words. For the first time in years…
I actually do.
“Girl,” she says immediately, “you have that man whipped.”
I roll my eyes.
“There’s something else,” he says quietly.
I look up at him confused as he leads me back into the hallway. Harper trails behind us, still looking around the house like she’s waiting for someone to tell her this entire place is fake. Asher stops at the bedroom directly beside mine and pushes the door open.
“Well shit,” Harper breathes behind me.
The room inside is beautiful. Not as soft and elegant as mine, but somehow perfectly Harper.
The walls were painted a warm smoky gray with black accents throughout the room.
A massive bed sat against one wall layered with charcoal bedding and oversized pillows while soft LED lighting glowed beneath the bedframe and bookshelves, giving the entire room a moody expensive feel.
Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the woods behind the house, though unlike my room, the curtains were darker and heavier.
A sleek black desk sat near the windows with a gaming setup already arranged across it while a mounted TV covered nearly half the opposite wall.
The shelves were still mostly empty except for a few random décor pieces Roman probably picked out with zero actual thought behind them.
But it was still obvious someone had tried.
Harper slowly walked farther inside, completely speechless for once in her life.
“You did this… for me?” she asks quietly.
Asher leans one shoulder against the doorway.
“Well,” he says casually, “we figured if Scarlett was staying here, there was no way in hell you’d stay away for long.”
Roman smirks from farther down the hallway.
“And honestly, Tempesta, you’re loud enough that we’d hear you sneaking in anyway.”
Harper flips him off automatically without taking her eyes off the room.
“You guys are insane,” she whispers.
Asher walks past us toward the closet and slides the door open.
Inside there were rows of brand-new clothes still with tags attached.
Nothing overly personal or creepy, just basics clearly bought in a hurry.
Expensive jeans. Oversized hoodies. T-shirts.
Sneakers. A few dresses Harper would probably wear out to clubs. Then he opens the bathroom door.
“And before you say anything,” he says quickly, already seeing Harper’s expression, “Zariah helped pick out most of the girl stuff.”
The bathroom counters were stocked with expensive shampoos, conditioners, skincare products, face masks, makeup wipes, lotions, hair products, and random self-care things Harper constantly complained about running out of. Harper just stands there staring at everything.
Completely stunned.
“You bought me skincare products?” she finally asks turning to look at Roman.
Roman shrugs from the hallway.
“Hey, I once had a woman operative threatened violence when her favorite moisturizer got discontinued and we were stationed in desert like conditions. We figured it was safer this way.”
That finally breaks her. Harper bursts out laughing before suddenly throwing her arms around Asher hard enough to almost knock him backward.
“You giant scary psychopath,” she says against his chest. “This is literally the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”
Asher awkwardly pats her back like physical affection personally offends him.
“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters. “Don’t make it weird.”
I stand there watching them, my chest aching in a way I can’t explain, because nobody had ever done things like this for Harper or me before.
Not without strings attached. Not because they genuinely wanted us there.
But somehow these dangerous, emotionally constipated military men had managed to make this place feel more like home in two days than the Vale estate ever had in my entire life.
Asher leaves us to go downstairs with Roman and gives Harper and me some time to explore our new things.
“I don’t know what you did to him, but God, the way he looks at you.” She fans herself dramatically. “It should honestly be illegal.”
“I’m a job, Harp,” I say quietly. “That’s all this is.”
The second the words leave my mouth, regret twists painfully in my chest, a part of me desperately wishes it wasn’t true.
The way Asher touches me makes my entire body feel like it’s on fire.
One look from him is enough to make my stomach flip.
I can’t let myself fall into that, because eventually this assignment will end.
And when it does, they’ll leave, Asher will leave.
I honestly don’t think I could survive being abandoned again.
Harper stares at me like I’ve completely lost my mind.
“If you seriously think you’re just a job to that man, then you’re dumber than I thought, Scarlett Ann.” She points toward the door dramatically.
“The sexual tension between you two could literally burn this house down.”
I throw a pillow at her face.
“We should go out tonight,” she says suddenly. “Have fun for once. My cousin’s boyfriend just opened that new club down in Crestwood.”
I laugh immediately.
“Yeah, because my three bodyguards are definitely going to let us wander around a nightclub.”
Harper grins slowly.
“Leave that to me.”
I honestly don’t know how she managed it, but two hours later we’re pulling up outside of The Foundry, and I’m suddenly nervous.
It’s not like Harper and I have never gone clubbing before.
We have, but this feels different. Asher is glued to my side all night, and somehow that makes me hyperaware of everything.
Including him. We also apparently have another addition to the security team now.
Zariah Cole.
Calling her beautiful honestly feels like an understatement.
She’s tall, commanding, effortlessly intimidating in a sleek black dress that hugs every dangerous curve of her body.
Her deep brown skin practically glows beneath the city lights while long dark curls frame sharp observant eyes that never stop scanning the crowd.
Even the scar slicing through her cheek somehow makes her prettier.
Standing next to her makes me feel painfully plain.
Asher and Zariah spend most of the ride discussing exits, blind spots, security risks, and contingency plans like we’re preparing for war instead of dancing. Honestly, it feels a little extreme.
The Foundry sat at the edge of downtown Crestwood, tucked between old brick warehouse buildings and the riverfront like a secret the town tried to pretend didn’t exist.
Years ago, the building had actually been a steel fabrication plant back when the area still resembled the old working-class roots of the Pittsburgh suburbs.
Now, like everything else in Crestwood, it has been transformed into something expensive, trendy, and dripping in false perfection while still clinging to just enough industrial grit to feel dangerous.
From the outside, The Foundry looked intimidating as hell.
The massive black brick building stretched across the corner lot beneath a glowing iron sign forged in brushed steel lettering.
Smoke curled from rooftop heaters while luxury cars lined the street outside, everything from blacked-out Escalades and Mercedes G-Wagons to Lamborghinis and Aston Martins parked beneath flickering amber streetlights.
Music pulsed through the walls hard enough to feel in your chest before you even made it inside.
A long line of people waited behind velvet ropes guarded by men built like NFL linebackers dressed in all black.
Most of the crowd looked like money. Raven Hills Academy students with mixed with trust-fund college kids, professional athletes, socialites, influencers, and the occasional dangerous-looking older men who definitely weren’t there just to drink.
Inside was even more overwhelming. The entire club glowed in dark amber and deep crimson lighting, casting everything in warm shadows that made the space feel sinful and seductive.
Original steel beams from the old factory still stretched across the ceiling while exposed brick walls mixed with black marble and gold accents gave the club a rich industrial luxury vibe.
Massive chandeliers hung over parts of the dance floor, contrasting beautifully against the darker warehouse aesthetic.
The music was loud enough to shake the floor beneath your feet.
A massive central dance floor sat slightly sunken beneath moving lights and smoke machines while elevated VIP sections wrapped around the second level overlooking the crowd below.
Plush black velvet couches filled the VIP areas beside low marble tables littered with expensive liquor bottles and champagne buckets glowing beneath soft LED lights.
The air smelled like expensive perfume, whiskey, sweat, smoke machines, and sex.
At the center of the club stretched an enormous horseshoe-shaped bar made from polished black stone with gold shelving behind it displaying hundreds of liquor bottles beneath soft backlighting.