I’m fuming. Fuming!

“The boss doesn’t want to be disturbed,” is all Harlan’s beefy security guard told me, before slamming me straight back into my prison. Sure, you can call it a penthouse if you really want to, but since I can’t leave, it might as well be my jail.

So I’m stuck here – pacing up and down – just like I was before. And I don’t even know whether Harlan is dead or alive. In truth, I don’t really know if he was ever in danger at all.

But it’s the not knowing that is killing me.

And –

I hear a beep at the front door, then a click as it unlocks.

“What?” I yell. “Brought me some food, have you? But I don’t want it. I just want to speak to –”

“Skye?”

I don’t register the voice at first, even though I know it almost as well now as I know my own. Even though I’ve told it my deepest secrets, even though I let it tempt me to do things I’d never have dreamt of before, even in my darkest moments.

Then it speaks again.

“What the hell are you talking about, Skye?”

I spin and sprint toward the front door, and the voice. That voice – Him.

Harlan.

As I close on him, he opens his arms wide to welcome me in for a hug. He’s got a proud, smug smile on his face.

I draw my hand back and slap him on his right cheek.

“What the hell was that?” I yell.

Behind Harlan, the bemused security guard peers at me through the open front door. I can practically read the thoughts written on his face. He’s wondering whether he should charge me.

The boss doesn’t pay me enough for this shit, he’s saying.

He reaches out and closes the door, leaving us alone together once more.

Harlan rocked backwards, holding his face. His eyes flare with surprise. “What do you mean, what was that?” He growls. “I could ask you the same question!”

I lean forward, jutting my chin out as threateningly as I can manage. “Never – and I mean never – play a trick like that on me again. Do you understand?”

Harlan physically flinches as he feels the rage crackling on my skin. I barely notice it, even though my cheeks are burning with the fires of righteous anger.

“But…”

“But nothing,” I snap. “Where have you been? I thought –”

I crumple. All of the anger that carried me seeps out. I feel like I’m standing on frozen ground in winter, with cold attacking me through the soles of my feet, putting out the flames of my rage.

“I thought you were dead,” I mutter, admitting my deepest, darkest fears. “I thought I’d killed you.”

Harlan’s forehead wrinkles. He takes a step forward and grabs me by the wrists. He cocks his head at me, and looks like he’s wondering whether he should shake some sense into me.

Part of me doesn’t blame him. I know I’m acting crazy. I can’t help it. I’m telling the truth. I thought I’d never see him again – see the man I love again – and that fear shook me to the core. It threatened my very being.

“Skye,” Harlan whispers softly.

He grabs my hand and guides it towards his cheek. The one I just slapped … I wince. A red handprint is quickly appearing on his skin.

“Look, I’m here. I’m fine. Nothing happened to me out there. I just had a –” he pauses for a second, chewing his lower lip. A smile makes its way onto his face, as if he’s reliving the memory of what happened while he was away.

“– a conversation with him, that’s all. A friendly one. Look…”

He holds his arms out, releasing my wrists and turns them over.

“No scratches, see. He didn’t lay a hand on me.”

I breathe out deeply. Now the anger has faded, I’m just left with an overwhelming sense of tiredness. I study Harlan’s outfit. I imagine he would blend neatly into the darkness, but right now, in his well-lit penthouse, not so much.

“Harlan,” I choke, as a wave of giggles rises up and out of me. “You look… ridiculous.”

A hurt expression bubbles up onto Harlan’s face. He hides it quickly, but I see it before it’s gone.

“Oh,” I giggle. “Don’t be like that. I’m just telling it how I see it…”

“What do you see, then?” Harlan replies roughly.

“Well for one,” I say, listing it on my thumb, “I don’t believe you for a moment when you say you were safe the whole time.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because you’ve got shards of glass all over that vest you’re wearing…” I say, reaching out and plucking a glittering splinter from his chest. “What – did you think you were Rambo or something?” I pick at the shards and toss them in a waste basket nearby.

I take a step back, and survey Harlan in more detail. He’s dressed in all black combat gear, including the stab vest I just picked the glass fragments off.

“What if someone had seen you like that?” I say, shaking my head.

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” Harlan replies suddenly. I think he thought I’d welcome him home like a conquering hero…

I grin. Harlan’s a big enough boy that I know he’ll be able to take my ribbing.

“You’re dressed for war, Harlan, but you got your driver to drop you off and pick you up…” I giggle.

“Fine,” Harlan grumbles. He’s play-acting that he’s annoyed, but I know better. I see the glint of amusement in his eyes. “Maybe it didn’t go quite as smoothly as I made out. But what did you want me to do? Knock on his front door and ask him to let me in?”

I shrug. “I guess not. But it never hurts to be polite…”

“So when did you get that memo?” Harlan winks at me.

“Point taken,” I ruefully reply.

I let out a deep breath. “Seriously, though, Harlan. Don’t do that to me again. I’ve practically worn a hole in your carpet with worry.”

Harlan grabs me by my wrist and pulls me towards him once again. “Forget about it. I’ll have accounting take it out of your paycheck.”

I try and wriggle away from my lover’s arms, but he holds me too tight. There’s no escape. I pinch his arm instead.

“Or maybe,” Harlan whispers roughly into my ear, sending a shocking, thrilling surge of excitement coursing through my body. “There’s another way you can repay me…”

I wrinkle my eyebrow. “Oh?”

Harlan presses his lips against mine. His tongue grazes my lower lip, and I shiver with anticipation. His hands drop to my ass, and once there, seem to like it too much to leave.

Maybe this isn’t such a bad idea, I think.

“Well, we were rudely interrupted earlier…” I groan, resting my lips away from Harlan’s. “So I suppose…”

“Those are my thoughts exactly,” Harlan growls.

I pull away from him. “First things first, Captain America, I need to wash up. After what we did earlier, and the last few hours of worry, I’m a hot mess. And –”

“I don’t care about any of that. Skye, you’re the woman I love. I don’t care if you’re sweaty, or dirty, or –”

My hand flies to my mouth, covering my shock. “What did you say?”

“I said –” Harlan stops. His face wrinkles as he silently replays the words that just came out of his mouth.

Then he shrugs. “I don’t give a shit. It’s the truth, Skye. I love you. I have since the moment I walked into your office. I’m not going to hide it, not from anyone.”

I go weak at the knees. It’s a cliché, but I guess it’s that way because it’s true. The floor feels unsteady beneath my feet.

“I –” I stammer.

Oh God, am I actually going to say this?

“I think I might love you right back,” I whisper, closing my eyes as if to hide from the intensity of Harlan’s gaze. As always, he’s looking at me as though he can read the words written on my soul.

Harlan doesn’t say a word. He pulls me back, kisses me again. Kisses me so hard I can barely breathe, so hard that I forget my knees are weak and instead press my body against his for support – ignoring the sandpaper-rough patches from his canvas vest, grateful we removed the larger shards of glass.

“About time,” he says. “Now, about that offer…”

I dance away from him playfully. “I wasn’t kidding,” I say. “It’s nice to know you’re so into me, and all, but…”

Harlan’s eyebrow jumps so high I worry it might disappear into his fringe. “But?”

“But I was serious about what I said. I need a shower, and I sure as heck am not screwing you until you brush that glass off your chest.”

“More glass?” Harlan mutters, glancing down. “Oh… shit,” he mutters.

“Say,” I coo, looking over my shoulder, “I don’t imagine you’ve got a wardrobe already set up for me? Like at the cabin?”

Harlan’s fingers stop brushing at his front.

“Do I?” He grins. “What the hell do you think?”

I knew it!

“So where is it, cowboy?” I ask, biting my bottom lip seductively. “Because I’m in a mood to play dress-up…”

“Where the hell do you think,” Harlan grins confidently right back, “my bedroom.”

“Presumptuous,” I say. “But I like your attitude. Say, since this is my first time here – exactly which one is your bedroom?”

“The third one down on the left.”

“See you in ten.”