JENNIE

The elevator of the Gryphon Hotel stopped at the top. The penthouse. As it turned out, Lisa lived in a hotel that also had residences. And it wasn't just any hotel, but the same one where, at Lisa's suggestion, we'd be hosting tomorrow night's Meet and Greet for the magazine. No wonder she'd been so knowledgeable about the rooftop bar above us—and Amber, Gryphon's event coordinator.

Lisa's shoulders sagged as she stepped out into a simple, elegant foyer with a single door.

I folded my arms into myself and followed, still in her blazer, which I'd put over a North Shore Turkey Trot t-shirt Lisa had found in the gym bag in her car.

"Make yourself comfortable." She tossed her keys onto a circular marble table in the entryway and disappeared down a hallway.

A brightly lit, pristine living room with floor-to-ceiling windows displayed Lake Michigan on one side. Where the dark shore ended, Chicago's skyline started, interrupted by the apartment's smooth white columns.

I removed my shoes and walked over cool, ebonized mahogany wood panels to a plush ivory carpet. Three steps down deposited me into a sunken living room with a pine-green, mid-century fabric couch. Somehow I doubted the black leather and walnut Eames lounge chair and ottoman, which ran north of five grand, was a knockoff.

A monochromatic stone wall housed a cozy fireplace, the focal point of the room. A glass coffee table, with a base fashioned from the same wood as the floor, held three small, colorful, abstract sculptures and a stack of design books. Their worn corners offset clean black-and-white spines, just like the carpet springing between my toes warmed the jagged stone fireplace and high ceilings. With the white-paned windows curving to show both vast lake and downtown buildings, the space felt both big and cozy.

"Well?" Lisa called from somewhere in the apartment.

I scanned the dark horizon from the eighty-fourth floor. The carefully curated yet lived-in room could've easily been cold. In some ways, it was. It needed a little more of a woman's touch. "It's not quite what I expected," I said, picking up a remote from the mantel. With the push of a button, the fireplace flickered on.

"Not bachelorette pad enough for you?" she asked from the other room.

"As an architect, don't you want to build your own house?"

"Without question. But I'm waiting for input."

"From?" I asked. When she didn't answer, I smiled to myself. Lisa was secretly romantic. Not so secretly around me, it turned out. But if I'd only known her by her reputation, I wouldn't have guessed it.

"Finally, a smile," she said, reappearing with a balled towel in her hand. She walked to me at the fireplace and touched my chin to get me to lift it.

"This might sting a little." She gently pressed the towel to my cheek, and cold prickled my skin, my cut tingling. Her gaze met mine a brief second, then shifted to the towel. "All right?"

We were nearly close enough to repeat the forbidden scene. She'd assured me her best behavior tonight, but she'd made me that same promise before.

And broken it.

I nodded. "Thank you."

"You must be exhausted."

I inhaled sharply as she adjusted the ice. "I never even asked if you were okay." I didn't see a scratch on her. The only indication of her scuffle were wrinkles in her dress shirt, a faint smudge of my blood on the crisp white fabric, and strands of her normally styled hair falling over her forehead. "Did he hurt you?" I asked.

"I'm perfectly fine."

"Like a superhero," I said without thinking, then bit my lip, as if that would retract the comment.

"Hardly." She scoffed. "Although, I'll admit—it isn't easy to chase and subdue someone in dress shoes."

I thought maybe I laughed, but it was only to cover up the fact that I felt as if I'd been sucker punched. Chase and subdue. That was what Lisa had been metaphorically doing since the moment she'd met me. She'd found me at the bar during the ballet. Followed me to the balcony at Jisoo's. Come to my office to do the article.

But it wasn't the metaphorical chase that made me lose my breath.

It was the vision of Lisa acting out those verbs on me. Lust reared in me at the thought of Lisa cornering me, tossing me over her shoulder, having her way with me despite all the reasons not to.

"Keep the towel there," she said, jolting me from the fantasy. I took the ice. she disappeared again and returned with two pills, a glass of water, and a tube of Neosporin. I handed over the towel and gratefully took the painkillers.

"Let's get you out of those clothes and into bed," she said, and my head snapped up at what sounded like an invitation.

She tilted her head. "I have a guest room you can stay in, Jennie."

"Of course," I said with a shaky laugh. "I knew that."

I followed her out of the living area as she showed me to a room furnished with nothing more than a queen-sized bed, two nightstands, and a dresser.

It was becoming obvious that despite Lisa's talent for design, she spent far more of it on her clients than on herself. Why?

She pointed across the room. "Bathroom," she said, and added on her way out the door, "You can sleep in that t-shirt, but I'll get you some bottoms."

I removed her blazer and placed it over a chair. In the bathroom, I splashed cold water onto my face and examined the damage. Lisa was right. The cut was minimal, and most of the blood had washed away. But I could already see the beginnings of a bruise forming around it. I dabbed antibiotic ointment on it, then tugged my fingers through my hair, but there was nothing I could do to improve the shadows under my eyes. I looked better suited for a night at the trailer park than as a guest in Lisa's spotless home.

"I'm a mess," I said when she appeared in the mirror behind me.

"Yes, you are." She sighed. "Somehow you still look exquisite."

I rolled my eyes. "Okay. Sure ."

"Will either of these work?" She handed me folded black sweatpants and a pair of plaid boxers. "They'll be a little big, of course. But it's better than nothing at all." Her mouth popped open. "Well . . . not better . I'm perfectly fine with nothing if you are."

I raised a scolding eyebrow at her and resisted from following that tempting path. Pulling taut the t-shirt she'd given me, I read in a teasing tone, "Turkey Trot?"

"If I'm in town for Thanksgiving, my dad and I usually run the 5K to support the local police department while my sister and mom prep dinner."

God. That was sweet. And unsurprising, since she'd already hinted she was close with her family.

That was not the Lisa I needed to know right now. I couldn't forget that after tonight, she and I would no longer have a relationship of any sort.

I took the bottoms. "This is great. Thank you."

She nodded once and closed the door on her way out of the bathroom. I changed out of my slacks slowly as soreness descended, then whiffed her clothing—fresh laundry and Lisa. Though it was a little warm for sweats, they seemed like the safer option for this sleepover.

When I came out, she was setting a glass of water on the nightstand.

"How's this for exquisite?" I joked in sweatpants rolled three times and a t-shirt that hung to the tops of my thighs.

"How come you roll your eyes when you say that?" she asked.

"Because it's a ridiculous thing to say when I'm in oversized pajamas, no makeup, with a bruise forming on my cheek." I walked to the bed and pulled back the comforter. "Then again, I can't really blame you. I don't doubt many girls buy whatever you tell them."

"You do look exquisite."

I stopped, glanced down at my outfit, then back at her before bursting into laughter.

She tilted her head and smiled in a way that could get even the Virgin Mary into trouble. My laugh vanished as she looked me up and down. Her eyes morphed from curious to hungry, as if she might leap across the room and devour me. I felt less desirable than ever, but the way my body warmed under her perusal, I might as well have been naked.

"One day," she said slowly, "I'm going to tell you, in detail too explicit for the moment, exactly how exquisite you look right now. I promise you that."

I clenched my jaw and swallowed. Her eyes lingered too long, and that empty heaviness returned between my thighs. I doubted I could even dream up the explicit details she threatened.

"Well," she said, totally unruffled, "you're all set. I'll be back to check on you in a few hours. I want to make sure you don't have a concussion."

"I didn't hit my head," I assured her.

"Indulge me. I didn't see the assault with my own eyes, so I'll do as I see fit."

"Does someone as determined as you ever do as you don't see fit?"

A roguish grin was her only response.

I climbed into the bed and got under the covers.

"Goodnight," she said, switching off the lights on her way out.

Every time I began to drift, a cold blade touched my exposed chest. A pair of hands shoved my back against a wall. My scalp screamed as someone yanked my hair.

I would've sworn I hadn't slept, except that somewhere in the middle of the night, Lisa's comforting voice broke through the dark.

"Jennie."

I blinked my eyes open.

"I'm just checking on you." Faint light slivered through the room from the doorway. "Need anything?"

"Yes," I said suddenly, sitting up. "Why'd you come back?"

"When?" she asked.

"You had no reason to believe I was in real danger. Mark could've been anyone, going to any floor in the building."

She paused. "If there was even a chance you were in trouble," she said slowly, "I wasn't going to risk it."

"Is that the truth?" Her set jaw and determined gaze as she'd ended our relationship seemed so far away now. "You weren't coming back for . . . for another reason?"

"No. There's no in-between for us, Jennie. I can't come back for you. And I can't stay. Or we'll both get hurt."

I swallowed hard and nodded. I understood. But I was also tired of fighting, and I wasn't going to get any rest tonight. Not when I didn't feel safe. Without meaning to, I whispered, "Stay."

"What?"

Silence stretched between us long enough for me to take it back. To question why I'd said it. To tell her never mind.

Of course, she couldn't stay, and it wasn't fair to ask that of her. But my safety had been threatened tonight, and I felt exposed—in more ways than one. Lisa had hurt me tonight by trying to end our relationship. She could do more damage than even Mark Alvarez. Ironically, she was the riskiest, most dangerous thing in my life, and yet I needed her now to feel safe.

"Stay," I repeated.

I couldn't see her in the dark, but I felt her struggle. I'd learned tonight that she wanted to do the right thing. It was who she was. But did she want me more? Was it fair to hope she did?

Footsteps crossed the room. The mattress dipped as she got onto the opposite side of the bed, far enough that I would really have to reach to touch her. I wouldn't, though. Just having her there allowed me to give in. Exhaustion descended. I closed my eyes knowing I was safe tonight, even from her.