Success, I text Zayne on the train home. Just to his real phone number now, having learned my lesson about trusting app accounts. How about you?

I don’t want to admit how nervous I am to hear back. How much my heart sticks in my throat until my phone finally dings, and I can flip it open to see the reply.

Went as well as it could have. Which is to say, not great. But I think she took me seriously. I think she’ll really stop this time.

Good, I reply. Then I bite the inside of my lip. I have to tell him. Because we need to talk about something that came up in my meeting…

I text Zayne from the train to meet me outside our building. It’s his day off, which is good, since he looks like he slept on a floor all night and then spent the last hour arguing with a psychotic ex.

“Coffee shop?” he asks before I can even open my mouth to suggest it. I shoot him a grateful sideways smile and we head off toward what’s quickly becoming our spot. Somewhere along the way, he loops his hand through mine, and I squeeze his fingers tightly, enjoying the warmth of his grip, the steadiness of his support.

“So,” he starts as we step into the warm, reassuringly coffee-scented air of the corner coffee shop where we had our first date. “Tell me what happened.”

“I need caffeine first,” I protest. Like a mind-reader, he’s already in line. He orders for us both, and I notice with a little secret thrill that he remembered my order from last time. He already knows how I like my coffee. How many guys would notice that, let alone remember it?

We take a seat at the back, the same one where we sat last time, and I blow on my latte while he takes small sips of his tall black coffee.

“You made it sound like bad news,” he finally says, when the silence has stretched on too long.

“It’s not. It’s just… Complicated news,” I reply.

He lifts his eyebrows, expectant. Waiting for me to explain.

It doesn’t take more than that to get me to spill. I launch into the full story, from the moment I first told my boss everything, up to her proposal. “I don’t know how you’d feel about it; I know you wanted to warn her, give her a chance to back off, but she hacked corporate servers, Zayne…”

“I know.” He grimaces and blows on his coffee absently, before taking another long gulp. “But you’re right. She’s broken laws at this point. I can’t protect her from herself. It was her choice to hack your company, use that against you. She’d already gone way too far with taking that photo and putting it out in the world, she didn’t have to try and ruin your career along with it.” He scowls and shakes his head so hard that a lock of his blond hair falls across his forehead. I fight the urge to reach out and brush it back. That’s fast becoming a habit already.

“I’m sorry, Zayne.”

“Don’t be,” he answers fiercely, almost as soon as the words are out of my mouth. “I keep telling you this, Clove, but I mean it—you did not do anything. You don’t deserve any of this. Whatever we can do to fix this for you, we will.”

“So if I asked you for your ex’s details to send to my boss…”

He nods. “I’ll send you everything I have as soon as we get back home. Name, address, the way I think she hacked my account, in case it’s how she hacked your company’s too. All of it.”

“Thank you.” I bite my lip. “So…” His turn now. “How did your side of it go?”

He groans and drains the rest of his coffee in one swig. “She’s still living in the same apartment she had when we were dating. I’m not sure she has much of a social life, friends. It was weird.” He winces, closes his eyes. “She seems obsessed, really.”

I frown, my brows drawing together. “That bad?”

“Her whole apartment is just plastered with photos of us. Old ones, ones from years ago. And then newer photos, photos of me. Some of them she’s…” He clears his throat. I can tell that he’s badly shaken—and no wonder, given what he had to face today. “Some she’s Photoshopped me into. Others are me out on dates with other girls, people from the app who I met months ago. She’s crossed out all their faces, drawn curses on the pages. There’s one of you…” His voice breaks and he clenches his coffee cup so hard that the now-empty paper crumples in his fist. “She just sounds so normal when you speak to her. Like this is all so practical and mundane. Like she doesn’t even realize anything is weird about it.”

I reach across the table to rest my hand on top of his. “She needs help, Zayne.”

“I know. I tried to talk her into coming with me to a hospital, talking to a doctor, anything. She refused. Said it was none of my business. And I told her I’m deleting my account on that app, so she can stop bothering to hack it. She just told me that I got what I deserved.”

“But she hasn’t hacked any of your other devices or accounts, you don’t think?”

“Not that I could tell. Everything she had, all those pictures and information, it was all from the dating app. And she’s not exactly subtle. If she’d hacked other pieces of my life, I think there’d be evidence sitting around her house. Or she’d talk about it, mention it somehow. She isn’t sly, that’s one thing I have to say for her.” He laughs, a low, bitter laugh. “She always tells you the truth about exactly how fucking batshit she is.” His voice breaks on that, the bitterness too sharp for him to maintain. “I just want to see her somewhere safe. A hospital maybe, or with her family. She needs somebody to stop her from doing this.”

I can feel myself nodding in agreement. “We’ll find that for her. My company will look into it and they’ll realize that she’s not just a crazy random, that she’s… that she needs help from someone.”

“At any rate.” Zayne shrugs it off, with an almost physical effort, and smiles at me once more. “No matter what, she’s off your back. There’s no way she can access anything else we say to one another; she can’t get any more photos of you to harass you or threaten your career.”

“Thank you for talking to her. I know that must have been hard.”

He catches my hand and squeezes tightly. “Not as hard as the thought of losing you. Now that we’ve finally found each other, we finally have this chance…”

I nod, eyes locked on his. “We’re not going to miss each other again. Not this time.”

His smile widens. He turns my hand over in his and lowers his head. Plants a slow, searing kiss on my palm. It feels intimate and sexy as hell all at once, like we shouldn’t be allowed to do it in public, here in this coffee shop where anyone could look at us. I tug his hand toward me and kiss his fingers too, one at a time. By the time I reach his pinkie, he’s already standing.

“Want to go home?” I ask, one eyebrow raised. “It’s a bit early for bedtime.”

He smirks in response. “Actually, Ms. Walker, I was thinking that it’s about time I took you out on a proper date.” He glances past me at the clock above the coffee shop door. No, not at that, I realize. At the marquis across the street. The little cinema that only plays 2 or 3 movies a week, depending on the week. Right now, it’s playing some film I don’t recognize, though to judge by the name, it’s some kind of mystery or action flick.

The next showing starts in 5 minutes.

“How would you feel about a movie?” he asks as he rises to his feet.

I stand beside him, and lean in to nudge my shoulder against his. “I could be lured into a dark theater with you,” I murmur, eyes bright with mischief.

He grins and taps under my chin lightly with one finger. “Don’t go getting too many ideas yet, dirty girl. The night is young.”

With that, we sweep out the coffee shop and beeline for the movie theater, our hands still wound tightly together. My night is looking up.

* * *

We take seats far at the back, expecting the rest of the theater to fill up. But by the time the previews end and the opening credits begin to roll, we’re only two of five people in the theater. The other three are dotted around the rows, the nearest person at least 4 rows in front of us and on the far side of the theater, sitting next to the aisle as though they’re worried they’ll need to do a few bathroom runs during this movie.

“What are we seeing?” I whisper, because the previews were a mix of comedy, horror, action and animated films, so I can’t even guess what genre this one will be.

To my amusement, Zayne shrugs. “No idea,” he whispers back. “I just liked the title.”

We settle in, the popcorn he insisted we buy balanced between us. Every now and again, our hands brush as we both reach into the popcorn at the same time. Every time they do, he insists on nudging my fingers. I lose count of how many times he makes me drop the handful of popcorn I’ve gripped, simply because I can’t help the small startled reaction that still races through me whenever our bare skin brushes. A spark of ignition that’s impossible to ignore.

The movie starts out with an explosion, and only gets louder from there. Turns out it’s one of those comedy-action movies, but not a funny one. After the fourth joke falls flat, Zayne takes to whispering better versions of the lines in my ear. I have to fight cracking up and turning heads across the theater—although, admittedly, there aren’t even too many heads to turn.

“Not your thing, huh?” I ask him with a smirk as he makes fun of the sixth line in a row.

“Are you kidding? I love shitty movies. The worse the better.”

We trade favorite un-recommendations for the next few scenes, but by then, it’s become clear that this movie is just ridiculous.

“Not even MST3k could save this,” I mutter, and Zayne lights up, squeezing my leg.

“You watch that too? I loved that show.”

“Wow, nerd.” I smirk at him.

“You’re one to talk,” he counters.

“Me? I am innately cool.”

“Don’t you work in a publishing house? Pretty sure all publishers have to be nerds. It’s in the job requirement right?”

“Only book nerds though. Not TV show nerds.” I roll my eyes.

“Is that worse?”

“You tell me,” I counter. “You’re the nerd expert here.”

“Tell me, Clove.” His fingers track up my thigh, moving slowly, like he’s turned his hand into a spider and he’s crawling it up the rain spout. His fingers dance closer and closer to my hips. “Would a nerd be able to make you come as many times as I made you scream my name last weekend?”

I can feel my cheeks flush in the dark of the theater. “Maybe. I don’t know. I haven’t really tested nerd versus non-nerd’s abilities in the bedroom.”

“I see. So I haven’t fucked you enough times yet, is what I’m hearing.”

I swallow hard. “Well. That’s one way of interpreting that.”

His hand slides along the crease of my thigh, right where it meets my hip. His fingers delve between my legs, pressing hard against the tight fabric of my pencil skirt. I wore this skirt specifically to avoid any sexual attention, but right now, it’s taking all of my self restraint not to tear it off. “I like my interpretation.” He leans in to brush his lips against my ear, his breath hot on my neck. “It gives me a good excuse to fuck you again.”

With that, he pushes up the arm of the seat between us. I barely have time to react before he’s grabbing me with both hands, his fingers clamped around my hipbones. He pulls me across the seats and settles me in his lap. I can already feel the hard press of his cock against my ass, through the fabric of his jeans and my tight skirt.

“We’re in public,” I hiss over my shoulder.

“Do you think any of these people are going to notice?” Zayne gestures around us. The other three people in the theater do look pretty distracted. They’re far away, and their eyes are fixed on the screen. But if one of them turned around now, they’d see me sitting far above the seats, exposed, obvious.

“What if they hear?” I whisper, wriggling against him. But I don’t move off of him. It feels too good, his hard cock digging into my ass, his warm, strong arms still wrapped around my waist.

“You’ll just have to be quiet,” Zayne murmurs against the back of my neck, his nose grazing the soft skin there. “Think you can do that for me, dirty girl? Think you can be quiet while I fuck you until you come?”

I tense and cast another nervous glance around the theater. Can I? Normally I’d say yes, but given the orgasms Zayne has given me recently, I’m not so sure anymore…

“I can try,” I murmur.

He smirks and catches my earlobe between his teeth, biting down just hard enough to make me inhale sharply. “I’ll take that as a challenge.”

He runs both hands up my thighs now, and catches underneath my skirt to pull it with him. He inches the skirt up, up, until my panties are exposed. He keeps going, hiking the skirt around my waist, out of the way, and then drops his hands back down to trace the edges of my lacy thong.

“This is very naughty underwear, Ms. Walker. Entirely inappropriate for being out in public.”

A shiver races down my spine at the sound of his voice, low and sexy as hell. I lean back against him and his chest vibrates against my back when he speaks.

“I’m going to have to relieve you of it.”

“What a shame,” I manage to breathe. Then I arch my hips enough to allow him access to hook his fingers through my thong and tug it down. He pulls it all the way down to my knees and leaves it dangling there, as his hands slide back up to my thighs. He traces the edges of my pussy, along my mound, down my thighs, not quite touching me yet. All the while I can feel his cock digging into my ass, straining against the clasp of his jeans.

He arches his back, and I lean down against him, circling my hips, grinding myself shamelessly against his thick cock.

“Hungry for me?” he asks. My belly tightens.

“Always.”

He dips one finger between my legs and traces my pussy lips lightly. “Mm, I can tell.” He pushes gently against my lips until they part, and his finger slides between them, along my slit. “I love how wet you get for me, Clove.”

“You always make me wet.” I glance over my shoulder at him and circle my hips again for emphasis. “Just like I always make you hard.”

“As a rock,” he agrees.

I reach beneath me to fumble for his pants clasp. Find the button of his jeans and start to undo it without looking.

He catches my wrist with his other hand. “Ah ah. That’s my job.” He nods forward. “You focus on not giving us away,” he says, and with a start, I realize I’ve forgotten where we are. That we’re in public, just a few feet away from other people.

I face front again and suck in a deep breath, trying to concentrate. That gets harder when I feel him unzip his jeans and push them down his legs, his boxers going too, until I can feel his smooth, steel-hard cock bare against my ass.

“Zayne… Is this a good idea?” I whisper.

In response, he grips my hips and positions me above him. His cock lays along the length of my slit now, just between my lips. He’ll have to angle himself to thrust into me, but already I can feel him pulsing with lust, and my pussy tightening in response. Fuck. I can’t say no, not now. I want him too much. I always want him, no matter where we are, but here…

I cast another worried look around the theater. Fuck. We’re so exposed. If anyone looks back…

But there’s something hot about that. About being so exposed, so vulnerable. So close to other people in public…

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you just got wetter,” Zayne murmurs in my ear.

I cast him a sharp glare over my shoulder. “Well someone is torturing me.”

“Torturing you, hmm? That sounds terrible.”

I swallow with difficulty. “Maybe.”

“I see. Is this terrible, then?” He pushes me up off his lap a little, angles his hips and reaches down with one hand to position himself, so the tip of his cock is between my pussy lips, poised at my entrance. One small thrust up and he’ll be inside me. Hell, if I just sit back against him, it’ll force him into me. I start to lean back, but he stops me, one hand around my waist, the other on my ass, suspending me above him.

“Very terrible,” I answer, my voice twisted with frustration.

“What’s so terrible about it exactly?”

“The teasing,” I hiss back almost immediately.

“Ah. So you don’t want me to fuck you right here in public, is that it?”

“I… That…” I clamp my mouth shut, annoyed. Because of course, now I want him to. Damn him.

“I could stop.” He eases back into his seat, drawing his cock away from me.

“No, don’t,” I gasp, almost too loud. Someone in the front row turns their head a little, glances over their shoulder. Not long enough to realize I’m out of my seat, sharing a seat with someone else. Just enough to express their annoyance.

Shit.

I’m going to have to be a lot quieter.

“I take it you do want to be fucked right here, then. Like the dirty girl you are. With all these nice people watching…” He drags his cock along the length of my slit, back and forth, his head between my lips, so I can feel him getting wet and slick with my juices.

“Yes,” I breathe, making sure to keep my voice lower this time. Luckily the sound of this movie covers it mostly. There’s a lot of loud explosions happening on-screen. Which is good timing because Zayne chooses that moment to thrust his cock into my pussy. He pulls me down against him at the same time, pushing all the way inside me in one smooth thrust. I can’t help gasping, my body arching back against him as his thick cock strains against the walls of my pussy.

“Quiet, dirty girl,” he whispers in my ear. I reach down to grip the seats on either side of us, using them to brace myself as he pushes me up off his lap, slowly, letting me feel every inch of his cock inside me as he draws out of me once more. Then he pulls me back down again, hard, and this time I manage not to make a sound, even though my mouth falls open and my belly feels tight, my nerve endings sparking. All I can think about, all I can feel, is the thick length of his cock in my pussy, the way his hard shaft feels as he pushes me up again.

I start to rock with him, thrusting down as he pulls me onto him, and leaning up as he pushes me up again, finding our rhythm. My breath comes faster, my heart nearly beating out of my body, not just because of the way he fucks me, slow now, but building faster, faster. It’s also because I keep glancing around the theater, dim in the low light, but lit up every now and again by bright explosions from the cheesy action thriller playing on the screen. If anyone looked back over their shoulder, it would be obvious what we’re doing. If I make any sounds again…

But I manage to clamp my lips tight, hold in the cries that try to force their way out of me, as Zayne fucks me.

Just when we’ve found a rhythm, he slides his hand around my waist, his fingers inching between my thighs to stroke along my mound. He keeps up the pace, thrusting up into me, even as his fingers circle closer and closer to my clit.

“Fuck, Zayne,” I hiss between gritted teeth.

“What did I tell you?” he murmurs, his voice lost in my hair, as he buries his face against the back of my head, drawing me close against him. “You’ll have to stay very quiet… But I’m not going to make it easy for you.”

I twist against him, trying to ease up the pressure. But the pleasure is too much. He knows exactly where to touch me, exactly when and how. He presses his forefinger against my clit as he continues to fuck me, and the sensation makes my whole body jerk, an electric shock straight to my nerve endings.

At the same time, he flattens his other hand against my back, bending me forward. I grab the seats in front of me, hang onto them as he thrusts up into me. At this angle, his cock drags along my inner front wall, the tip pressing right across my G-spot, at the same time that he keeps fingering my clit. Spots cloud my vision, and I have to bite my lip to keep it shut, to silence the cry that threatens to escape at any second.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Can you come quietly for me, Clove?” Zayne’s voice is a whisper, a breath against the nape of my neck, which makes all the hair there stand on end.

In response, all I can manage is a faint moan, deep in my throat, where I try to keep it lodged as the pressure builds inside me toward a peak.

“That’s it,” he urges me on, and I sense him tensing too. His thrusts take on a wilder, less controlled speed, as he nears his edge too. “Come for me, Clove.”

I can’t help it. I cry out faintly, just at the same time that another deafening roar sounds from the screen, thankfully drowning me out, as my orgasm sweeps through me. My body shakes against Zayne, and he pins me against him, keeps thrusting into me, holding my hips down against his, as my pussy tightens convulsively. I keep my eyes open, but all I can see are kaleidoscope colors, the world seeming to fade away in the rush of electricity flooding my veins.

He comes soon after me, with a soft growl against my neck, and we both gasp again as his hot cum rushes deep into my pussy. He sinks back into the seat, but I keep going, keep rocking against him in a slow, steady motion, milking every last drop from him until we both collapse, panting, our legs slick with sweat, hearts pounding in our ears.

The movie plays on, as boring as ever, and almost on cue, one of the characters cracks a lifeless, dull joke. We both laugh, breathless, hearts racing, amazed at what we just got away with.

Now one of the other theater goers does turn around to glare in our direction, but I’m already sliding off Zayne’s lap, pulling my skirt down, savoring the hot burn in my pussy, the tight sensation, almost painful, yet a good kind of sore, where his cock was buried a moment ago.

“Fuck, that was hot,” he whispers into my hair, and I turn to catch him in a deep, slow kiss. I can taste sex in that kiss, in the air between us. When we break apart, we rest our foreheads against each other’s, and he cups his hands around my face on either side, as though shutting out the rest of the world. There’s nobody but us, nobody who matters besides the two of us.

“Clove…”

“Zayne.” I catch myself smiling like an idiot. I can’t help it. He always makes me this way. Giddy, almost insane with pleasure.

“Do you want to get out of here?” His eyes glint with mischief.

I let my hand trail down his neck, along his arms, until I’m gripping his wrists with both hands, his hands still cupping my face. “Fuck yes.”

We leave the theater, hands clasped, giggling like teenagers at yet another horribly cheesy line of dialogue. One of the old men sitting near the exit door hisses at us to “shush,” but that only sets us off into another bout of loud laughter, especially once the theater doors swing shut behind us and we’re safe in the lobby hallway.

“I cannot believe we just did that,” I gasp between laughs.

Zayne pulls me against him and plants a long, slow kiss on my lips. “You are fucking amazing. Have I told you that yet?”

“You might have mentioned it.” My eyes sparkle.

He lifts a single eyebrow, smirking. “If I have,” he says, “then I haven’t mentioned it nearly often enough. Because you are. Genuinely.”

I swallow around a sudden lump of emotion in my throat. “You are too,” I murmur, though it doesn’t feel like enough, doesn’t explain what I feel for him, not really.

That’s okay. We have time to say it. All the time in the world.

We emerge from the theater into the night, streetlights bright around us. That’s always a surreal experience in New York, the way that even late at night, on busy streets like this, it still looks like broad daylight. We wander along the street hand-in-hand, appreciating the storefronts we pass along our stroll. Zayne suggests ice cream, so we pop into a small shop for cones, which we enjoy as we continue our walk. Then we trade licks of one another’s cones, and burst into laughter again as we fail at holding the cones steady, and smear ice cream on each other’s noses.

Zayne cups my cheek, turns my face to his, and licks the ice cream straight off my nose without hesitation. I laugh and pull away, blushing. But whereas that would normally embarrass me on a date with any other guy, with Zayne it feels normal. Natural. I don’t care what anyone else who sees us might think about us, because we’re the only two whose opinions matter.

I can’t remember the last time I felt like that around someone. Maybe never.

“Where next?” he asks when we deposit our ice cream soaked napkins into the trash can.

“The park?” I suggest with a shrug. It’s still early enough that Central Park is full of activity, lights brightening paths, and couples strolling through in every direction, hands clasped.

“Maybe we can find a dark corner to sneak off into,” he agrees with a wink, and there’s that blush again. Damn him. My face is going to catch on fire if he makes me blush anymore.

We head into the park, and breathe in the cool evening air, scented with flowers and freshly cut grass and the faint whiff of waffle cone trucks packing up for the night. We stick to a path with some pedestrian traffic, some couples, dog walkers, and us, meandering slowly through Central Park. Still, something gives me the chills, makes the hair at the nape of my neck stand up and a faint shiver run through me.

Zayne senses it and pulls me closer to his side. “Cold?”

I shake my head. “It’s nothing.” I let my head fall back and gaze at the stars above to distract myself from this odd chill. “So, tell me about yourself. What’s the real Zayne like, what makes him tick?”

He laughs. “I think you already know that.” His grip tightens around me, protective and possessive all at once. “You learned how to push my buttons far too quickly, Clove.”

I grin. “Maybe. But I don’t know all of them. I mean, what about your family, for instance? Are you guys close? Who are they?”

“They’re great. My dad’s an auto mechanic, my mom stayed at home with me until I was in high school, then went to work as a secretary in a law firm. They’ve been together since they were in college.”

“They sound nice.”

“They’re probably the other reason I hadn’t dated much before. I’m picky, because…” He hesitates, and now it’s my turn to squeeze my arm around him tighter, reassuring. “I want what they have. A real partner. Someone who matches me. You don’t find that just anywhere.”

I can feel a smile spreading across my face as I lean my head against his shoulder. “Oh trust me, I know.”

“When I dated my ex, I think it was just… I was lonely and sick of waiting for the right person. I thought I could make this girl into the right partner since she cared about me. So I thought. But she didn’t really care about me—not the real me. She just wanted to be with a guy, any guy, and she just projected who she wanted me to be on me.”

I can feel myself nodding in sympathy. I’d dated guys like that. Not for long, but I knew all too well how it felt to have someone date you because they wanted to change you, not because they truly appreciated you for who you were.

“But the best relationships are the ones where you can be yourself. Because that’s who the other person wants. The real you.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” I tilt my head back to catch his eye and feel another flash of gratitude. Even given everything that’s gone wrong, all the drama we’ve been through, I don’t regret meeting Zayne. Or, well, not meeting him—finally seeing him for the first time. This feels like a beginning. The start of something real. And as far as I can tell, he feels that too.

He leans in, and when we kiss this time, it’s slow, both of us savoring the moment. Our lips touch, part, and close again as we sink into one another. I could kiss him forever. His lips are so soft, his cheeks a tad scratchy with stubble, his hands strong yet gentle as he traces them up my back to pull my body against his.

I lose track of time, of everything else, while we kiss.

Until that faint tickle starts up at the back of my neck again. An uneasy sensation, like we’re being watched.

I pull back and can’t help stealing a glance around us. But like always, it’s just the two of us on this path, a few other people walking past, lost in their own conversations. Nearby, a woman is holding a leash while her dog pees. Up the road, another woman chats on a cell phone, oblivious.

Why do I feel like someone’s watching us? Like we’re being followed?

It has to be residual weird feelings from all of the problems we’ve been dealing with. The website, the hacked phones, the creepy messages from men who now have my phone number. That’s all. I’m just jumpy after dealing with all of that.

Still, Zayne notices the way I’m feeling, and leans in to kiss my cheek once more softly. “Are you okay?” he asks, brow knit in concern. “Maybe we should head home.”

“Yeah, maybe…” I shake my head, feeling stupid. I’m ruining the mood for no reason. I heave a sigh and cast a glance up the path, at the spot where a path leads off to the public restrooms. That’s what I need. Just a moment to collect myself, splash some water on my face, pull it together. “Can you give me a minute? I’m just going to run to the bathroom, then we can head back to the apartment.”

“Of course.” He squeezes my hand as I leave, and I cast a grin over my shoulder at him before I jog up the path toward the bathrooms.

Inside, it’s dingy and dark, away from the path and streetlamps. There’s a single bare bulb dangling from the ceiling but it’s burned out and I have to squint to see myself in the mirror as I splash cold water onto my cheeks.

That’s when I hear the door swing shut behind me.

Another woman steps inside. For a moment, I don’t recognize her, the way she’s holding her head—face down, eyes averted, hair falling across her forehead. She’s cute, shorter than me, with a pixie cut and dark eyes. Then she catches my eye in the mirror, and I smile in recognition.

“Hannah, hey, how’s it going?”

I only get a scowl in response, which makes my stomach tighten. Crap, did I get her name wrong? She works in my office, but she’s pretty new and she’s always so quiet. I think back to the last time I saw her, on the day the email with my photo circulated around the building. She’d been glaring at me something awful that day, but then again, who hadn’t?

“Sorry,” I say, when she doesn’t respond. “It is Hannah, right?”

She crosses her arms and stands in the doorway, weight on one hip. “So you remember one thing about someone besides yourself. Congratulations.”

I blink in confusion. “Um…” What the hell did I ever do to her? “Well, it was nice seeing you.” I move toward the door.

She sidesteps to block me. “Great to see you too. Really funny, running into you here of all places.”

“What do you—”

“Here in Central Park. Here where he took me to break up with me on the anniversary of our first date. Did he tell you about that?”

My stomach sinks even farther now, knotting in sudden realization. Oh my god.

No wonder she knew where to find me. No wonder she was able to circulate my image to everyone at work and use our own company servers to do it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lie, even as I try to ease past her again.

She steps in front of me once more and uncrosses her arms now. When I try to walk around her, she reaches out and shoves me, hard, in the shoulders.

“What the hell are you doing?” I ask, my voice going loud. Why didn’t Zayne tell me, why didn’t he tell me her name?

“I know all about you, Clove Walker. I know what kind of whore you are. Marketing manager at your big fancy publisher, just another boring New York transplant, another country-bred slut who came to the big city to chase other women’s men.”

Fire flares in my veins. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know what our boss thinks about your performance on that camera.” She smirks.

“That photo wasn’t for anyone else to see. That was private. All of this is private—you need to leave Zayne alone. Let him live his life.”

She rolls her eyes and laughs, a harsh, echoing sound. “Oh sure. Easy for you to say. Now that you’ve brainwashed the poor guy into saying whatever you want him to think. I know you sent him to speak to me, to try and mediate. You think that will work? He’ll see through your bullshit eventually.”

“Hannah, that’s not what’s happening here.”

“You stole my boyfriend.”

“You weren’t together anymore.”

“Only because he’s confused. He doesn’t realize what he needs. He doesn’t realize that I’ll give him more than any woman could. He needs me. You? You’re just the fuck of the minute. He’s had a million sluts like you in his bed. He’ll get bored of you before the week is up.”

“Hannah, let me leave.”

Instead, she squares off in front of the door and spreads her arms wide. “Well I’ve had enough,” she’s saying. “I’m not letting you fuck with him any longer.”

“You’re the one who’s fucking with him,” I counter, my voice rising. “You won’t leave him alone. That’s not normal, Hannah.”

“Of course it’s not normal. He and I were never boring, normal. We were better than that. We are better than that. As soon as sluts like you stop distracting him, he’ll see that. He’ll realize he’s meant to be with me.”

“You have to stop this. Let go of him.”

“Make me,” she snarls. Then, without warning, she launches across the room at me. I manage to catch her wrists in mine, but her momentum sends us both flying backwards. My back cracks against the tile wall and I groan. She takes advantage of the moment to pry one hand free and slaps me across the cheek. I shove her off me and bring up an arm to block her next strike which lands against my forearm. It stings, but not as much as my cheek, which burns where she hit it.

“Hannah, stop.”

“Fucking slut. I’ll ruin you. I’ll make you regret the day you laid eyes on him.”

She lunges at me again, and this time, I’m ready for it. I catch her shoulders with both hands and shove her sideways into the sink. She roars with rage as she crashes against it, and pushes off the sink to grab my hair. I ignore that and punch her straight in the nose, the way my dad always taught me. The way I’ve never had to do before.

But it works. Her eyes start to water, and she shrieks, letting go of my hair.

“Hannah, please—”

“You bitch!” She hits me with both arms now, and I don’t see the other hit coming, don’t have time to block before she’s shoving me against the wall again, hitting my chest hard enough to make me gasp for air.

Dimly, at the back of my mind, I’m aware of the door swinging open, someone else barging in. I hear shouting, voices. I’m too focused on catching my breath, forcing air through my aching throat into my lungs once more.

When I come to focus again, someone has pulled Hannah off of me and is holding her by both arms.

Zayne.

I gape at him, watch him pinning her o the wall as she struggles against his grip. At the same time, someone else, a young woman, pushes through the door and sees the three of us, Hannah kicking at Zayne as he struggles to stop her fighting.

“I’ll call the police,” the woman gasps, disappearing once more. Hannah, for her part, only takes that as a renewed reason to fight. She swings at me with a leg, trying to kick for my arm, but I back out of the way before the kick lands.

“Hannah, please, just stop,” Zayne says, his voice low with anger.

“This slut is corrupting you. Brainwashing you. Don’t you see?”

“All I see is you attacking my girlfriend,” he spits back.

A little thrill sparks in my stomach, even in spite of the circumstances, at hearing him say that. Girlfriend.

“She doesn’t deserve you. She won’t care about you the way I do. She won’t give up everything, sacrifice the world for you. Don’t you see?” Hannah twists in his arms to meet his eye, her face a mask of desperation. “Zayne, this is real. Me and you.”

“No, Hannah. This was never real.” His face, on the other hand, is torn between fury and pity.

“How can you say that? I’ve been here every minute. Watching you, waiting for you. I helped you get rid of those ugly sluts on that dating app—”

“Hacking into my phone without my permission and harassing women I like isn’t helping me.”

“They weren’t good enough for you. Nobody is. Nobody but me because I love you.” She twists in his arms until she’s facing him, and I can see even from here what effort it takes him not to cringe away. “This is real love, Zayne.”

“No. It’s not.” He releases her, carefully though, hands still poised to catch her again if she lunges for me once more. But as he lets go of her, his gaze drifts to me, his eyes dark and serious. “Love is not toxic or controlling. It’s not spying on people and hurting innocent bystanders in the process.” He locks eyes with me. “I know what real love is now.”

My mouth falls open as I look at him, a flurry of sparks setting off in my belly. Does he mean…?

Just then, the door bursts open once more. Zayne steps away from Hannah as the woman who poked her head in before returns, now with a couple of police officers in tow.

“What’s going on here?” the cop asks.

I open my mouth to explain, but I don’t need to because Hannah chooses that moment to lose it again.

She’s been shooting me death rays ever since Zayne looked my way. Even more since he said those words. Words that haven’t stopped echoing in my head since he said them. I know what real love is now.

“You whore!” Hannah flings herself at me again, and I raise my hands over my face defensively.

The officers catch her before we collide again. It takes both of them to wrestle her into handcuffs, and only when they’ve finally subdued her do they ask us what happened. Zayne takes over, explaining about how Hannah has been following him, hacking into his phone. At that point, I interrupt to explain that my company, which Hannah also works for, is pursuing a lawsuit against her for hacking their equipment. Zayne catches my eye at that, startled. Hannah, for her part, just continues to yell from the corner, calling me a slut and a man-stealing whore until the other cop finally frog-marches her outside to sit down while we finish explaining the situation to his partner.

In the end, they book Hannah. Through it all, though, Zayne keeps hold of my hand, his fingers tight around mine, his touch giving me the strength to see through the end of this nightmare at last.

“I didn’t know she worked at your company,” he murmurs. “I haven’t spoken to her in years. She sends me messages now and again, but I delete them unread—they’re usually too crazy, too upsetting to read.”

I shake my head. “It’s okay. It’s over now. Work will figure it out; I’ll explain it all to my boss…”

When the police car lights finally fade in the distance, and we’re left alone at last on the edge of Central Park, the last obstacle in our path finally removed, I collapse against him, relieved and exhausted at once. Zayne wraps his arms around me tightly, strong and reassuring as always, even now. Even after dragging up all of his own personal past shit, and confronting a person he used to care about, a person who has gone off the rails with her abuse.

“Did you mean what you said?” I murmur, tilting my head up to meet his gaze.

He smiles down at me. Plants a soft kiss on my lips. My strong savior, he doesn’t even look ruffled, even after all of that. “What I said when?”

“In the bathroom. When Hannah was yelling at you, you said…” I pause. Shake my head, because my throat has gone tight again just remembering. “You said you know what real love is now…”

“I do.” His eyes stay locked on mine, burning into me, snagging my gaze the way nobody else can. “You taught me that, Clove.” He nudges my chin, tilts my head up further, and leans in to kiss me once more, slower, softer. When our lips part, I sigh, leaning unconsciously closer to him, our bodies pressed together. “I love you, Clove.”

“I love you, Zayne.” I laugh faintly, breathless. “It’s crazy, but—”

“Who cares?” He grins and kisses me again, and that kiss is breathing again after years of drowning. That kiss is finally feeling all the puzzle pieces click into place. “I love you, you crazy beautiful woman.”

“I love you, you crazy handsome doorman.” I smirk, and he laughs and smacks my ass in response. “Do me one favor though?” I add, lifting an eyebrow.

“Anything for you.” He runs a hand through my hair, smoothing it back from my forehead before he plants a soft kiss on my forehead.

“When we’re telling everyone how we met, do not tell them you won me over with a sext message.”

He bursts into laughter then, and sweeps me off my feet into a low dip, planting a kiss on me as he does. I laugh against his mouth, until the kiss turns deep, slow, serious, and our mouths part, his tongue entwining with mine, exploring my mouth. He straightens, draws me back up against him, and slides one hand down to grip my ass, pulling me up against him.

I arch my hips, lean against his strong body, and wrap my arms around his neck.

“I promise nothing of the sort,” he murmurs, just before he dips to kiss along my neck, his mouth searing against my skin in the cool night air.

I sigh and let my head fall back, let him kiss me wherever he wants, touch me any way he wants. “Ah well, nobody’s perfect,” I reply in a whisper as he kisses along my throat now. “I suppose I can live with all of your friends thinking I’m a huge slut.”

“As long as this particular slut is all mine, I’m happy.” He winks.

I laugh and swat his shoulder.

In response, he dips to fling me over one shoulder. I cry out as he stands, and kick my legs in feeble protest. But he’s already walking away from the park, toward our apartment building.

“Now, if you’re my slut, I believe that means I should have my way with you… Again.”

Those words send a spark of desire through me. I’m surprised to find that I’m already getting wet just thinking about what he’ll do to me tonight when we get back to the apartment.

“Promises, promises,” I repeat, and that earns me another spank, which sends shivers through me.

Okay, so one slutty photo may have nearly upended my life. But now that we have our privacy back, I have to admit, being slutty wasn’t such a bad idea. After all, it landed me right in the arms of the hottie I never noticed standing right in front of me…

* * *