UP IN FLAMES

Vanessa looked down. When she raised her head, her expression was stubborn. “I’m not letting anyone keep chasing me out of my own home,” she said. “I’m tired of it. I’ve done nothing wrong or illegal, and if my husband stole money, I didn’t know anything about it.”

Paul sighed. “I know. But even if you are totally innocent in all this, do you really think that makes a difference to the bad guys?”

Vanessa’s proud expression fell. For a moment, she appeared shattered, devastated by the horrible possibility Paul outlined. Alaric had to suppress a surge of anger at Paul. While he understood-and even respected-the man’s reasoning, he hated seeing Vanessa hurt. Even for her own good.

“Nothing will happen to me,” she declared, her voice steady and strong. “Alaric will make sure of that.”

Alaric felt like he’d been punched in the gut. Paul’s gaze swung to him before landing back on Vanessa. “What if they kill Alaric?” Paul asked, the coldness in his voice giving the words extra impact. “Do you really want to have his blood on your hands?”

“That’s enough,” Paul barked. “I’m pretty sure she gets your point. No need to hammer in any gorier details.”

Paul chuckled. “What’s the matter, Alaric? Don’t like me talking about the possibility of you biting the bullet?”

“I don’t,” Vanessa interjected. “Believe me, I understand the risks well. If at any time I feel at risk, I’ll leave.”

“And go where?” Paul pressed.

“I don’t know. I might just go someplace warm and tropical, with a beach and umbrella drinks.” Her grin fooled no one. Both men knew Vanessa well enough to understand she’d never be able to enjoy herself on a vacation with things so unsettled.

“I think I’ll be leaving now?”Paul said as he rose, “Everything will be fine, Vanessa. Take care, Alaric. I’ll see you later,”

————-

The night they had sex, when Alaric had woken up in the middle of the night to find Vanessa gone from her bed and then asleep on the couch downstairs, huddled into a tiny ball, he’d been more than pissed. Not only had it been freaking offensive, as if a couch were better suited than sleeping beside him, he’d been confused.

He knew for a fact that Vanessa had enjoyed every second of what had transpired between them, and he also knew that most women would give their ovaries to have a guy who wanted to actually sleep with them after any type of sexual activity.

But oh no, not Vanessa.

She was not a typical woman. It wasn’t until late the following night that he realized why she had done that and why she’d spent the better part of the day avoiding him. The woman was more skittish than a man when it came to commitment. Not like sharing the same bed was professing undying love, but Vanessa had run, and like any predator, he was provoked to give chase, to win her over.

But how?

He had to win her over, and to be honest, he did enjoy the chase. It had been a while since he’d chased a woman, and it was nice to have that feeling back again. Now how was he supposed to go about it?

———-

Vanessa sat in her office, staring at the schedule on her computer screen but not really seeing anything beyond what her mind was focused on. Every so many minutes, the image of Alaric formed in her thoughts, completely naked. The man’s body was made for daydreams. The way he stood before her, legs spread and arms to his sides, wholly aware of his effect on her. He was a masculine study in beauty. Even the rough-looking scar on his shoulder and the numerous nicks across his rippled stomach added to his appeal. And what hung between his thighs?

Vanessa was no inexperienced virgin, but she could count on one hand how many men she’d been with. None of them lived up to the length and girth of Alaric. She doubted many men did. And no man had ever tied her wrists together.

Her cheeks flushed as her pulse pounded between her thighs. There was no escaping the fact that she had been turned on by the act or that the dangerous thrill of being completely under someone else’s control had goaded her along. It hadn’t been the sole reason for wanting to return the pleasure, but… It didn’t matter. It couldn’t matter.Text © by N0ve/lDrama.Org.

After the situation with her psycho stalker was resolved, Alaric would slip out of her life like a ghost and if she fell any deeper into his seductive web, she would end up like her mother, fixated the rest of her life on unrequited love.

Unfortunately for her, there was more to Alaric than just his overwhelming sexual allure. He was incredibly charming when he wanted to be, always willing, if not eager, to engage in a verbal sparring match, and he seemed to get her in a way that most people never did.

After dinner the next evening, he’d stopped on the way back to his house to pick up ice cream. They’d eaten it once they’d gotten to the house, and he’d talked to her, about everything and anything. It had been so long since she’d just talked with anyone.

Biting down on her lip, she scrolled through her schedule. She smoothed a hand over her head and flipped her ponytail back over her shoulder. She had a stash of rubber bands and pins in her desk but hadn’t pinned her hair up completely. It was strange feeling the weight of her hair.

A knock on her door drew her attention. “Come in.” She said.

The door opened and the first thing Vanessa saw was a bushel of roses. Not half a dozen or a dozen, it was a freaking bushel of velvety red petals and damp green stems, carefully arranged among baby’s breath and placed in the largest glass vase she’d ever seen.

Her heart leaped into her throat as she started to rise. “Uh, I think you have the wrong office.”

“Mrs Spencer?” the delivery man asked, his young eyes peeking out from behind the enormous arrangement. “That’s you, right? They told me it was this office.”

She gaped. “That’s me, but…”