Page 45 of Safe Word

I hadn’t crossed any lines.

Had I?

The worry simmering beneath my frustration threatened to bubble over until my vision spotted and I realised I was holding my goddamn breath.

But before it culminated, a new private message lit up my screen.

An address.

I stared at the letters, my irritation melting into something else entirely.

Fucking hell – and to think I’d decided to go with jeans today – I pulled at the seams to make room for what was brewing down below, casting another look in Paula’s way to make sure she wasn’t looking. This could’ve been easily misinterpreted.

The address was a hotel, tucked into a discreet corner of the city half an hour from my penthouse. I knew the place. It wasn’t well-known, and its anonymity promised the kind of privacy we needed.

Smart.

Scarlett’s boldness intrigued me, as always, but this was different. The portal was controlled, distant, with layers of detachment that allowed for clear boundaries. But this – this felt more intimate. More personal. She wanted to take it a step further.

I couldn’t help feeling as if it was all moving too fast.

I lounged back, my fingers tracing the edge of my desk as I considered her move. It wasn’t just an address. It was a challenge served with subtlety.

For a moment, I hesitated, letting the meaning of her message seep into me.

My pulse surged until it beat like a warning drum. My fingers curled against the desk’s edge, the sharp bevel biting into skin.

She’d peeled away a layer of distance without asking. And fuck me – I felt it everywhere.

But it was expected. She thought she could lead – I’d let her feel the illusion last time. Just enough slack to test the leash, not snap it. But I knew when to pull it taut.

Too much freedom and the balance tipped. If I gave her room to run, soon she’d think she owned the reins.

And that?

Unacceptable.

I wasn’t there yet.

I don’t think I ever would be. I shouldn’t be.

So I declined and rebooked Room Eight in Obsidian. And as a small token of punishment, I moved the booking to tomorrow. A slight delay – just enough to remind her who set the pace.

Paula let out a sharp sigh, bringing me back into the now.

‘All good?’ I asked.

‘What?’ She glanced my way, catching herself. ‘Oh, no… Fine. I just… made a small mistake.’

‘Thankfully,’ I exhaled, ‘those can be fixed very quickly in our line of work.’

Clicking the browser closed with a touch more fervour than it deserved, I stood, the decision already made. Whatever Scarlett wanted, she had my attention. And now, she’d have more than she’d bargained for. If she didn’t run tomorrow, she never would.

‘Done for the day?’ Paula’s warm, husky voice cut through the fog of my spiral.

‘Yep,’ I said, zeroing in on the clock – nearly four.

Urgency gripped me.