Leah,

I woke up the next morning, and he had already left for work. He didn't even sleep in our room last night. Typical Liam, avoiding me after a fight like that, would solve anything. We needed to talk, and I would make sure we don't sweep this under the rug like we do whenever we fought.

I entered the elevator, pressing the button for the seventh floor before stepping back. The doors were almost closing when they suddenly opened again. Someone had entered.

The first thing that caught my eyes was his black coat. My gaze trailed slowly upward, over his broad shoulders, sharp jaw shadowed by a well-groomed beard, thin red lips. A jolt of electricity shot through me when our eyes finally met. My breath hitched, and I took a step back, my heart thudding in my chest.

It was him. The stranger with a scar from yesterday who knew nothing about boundaries.

The elevator doors closed shut, the space feeling smaller with him in it. The realization that I was trapped inside it with a man who clearly had no intention of respecting my space terrified me.

His eyes trailed down my body, lingering as though he was stripping away every piece of clothing with his eyes. I felt so fucking exposed before him and when our eyes locked again, the hunger in them was unmistakable, raw and possessive. A shiver ran down my spin as I inhaled sharply. "I almost missed you," he grinned.

"Are you stalking me?" My brows furrowed, fisting the strap of my purse.

I was trying to act tough, but deep down, I was trembling. What if he really was a stalker?

He took a step forward, and I took two back, my back hitting the wall of the elevator. I was right where he wanted him, trapped between the wall and his body.

"Maybe," his lips curled into a smirk as he took another step forward, now standing close, not too close but close enough for his scent to invade my senses. "I can be one for you, doll."

Fuck you!

I pressed myself harder against the wall as though it was going to save me from him. "You're insane," I said in a shaky voice, my purse quickening.

"I am," he muttered more to himself than to me. He reached out to touch my face, and I caught his hand, stopping him.

"That's a bad habit," I bit down on my lip. "Not keeping your hands to yourself."

He smiled, amused, his eyes drifting to my lips briefly. "Like I said, it is difficult when something beautiful catches my eyes."

"Again, I'm not a thing." I squeezed his wrist, annoyed.

"No, you are not," he agreed, his fingers caressed my cheek, despite my small hand grasping his, unable to stop him. "I want it." He murmured as he touched my hair.

"My hair?"

He chuckled. "Your hair tie."

I blinked, wondering what type of creep would ask a woman he had just met for her hair tie. "Why?"

"To pack my hair."

Is he for real?

"Fuck off," I pushed against his chest.

He tugged the hair tie from my hair, letting it tumble down my shoulders. "The hell?" I yelled, brushing the strands that fell on my face aside.

He twirled the hair tie around his finger. "Thank you."

"Give it back!" I stepped forward to snatch it back, but he raised his hand higher. I stood on my tiptoes, trying to reach it, when suddenly,  he leaned down, pressing his lips against mine.

My mind went blank for a second, trying to process the situation. His hand moved to the back of my head, pulling me closer, deepening the kiss. My hands flew to his chest, pushing against him as hard as I could, but he was stronger.

The kiss became rougher, stealing the air from my lungs. My fists pounded weakly against his chest, but his unrelenting lips didn't stop until I tasted blood. My knees buckled, and I clung to his coat, growing weaker with every second.

When he pulled away, I gasped for air, my lips trembling and stinging from where his teeth had grazed them. I stared at him utterly, shaken. A smirk played on his lips as his fingers traced along my swollen lips, clearly pleased with himself. "Your lips..."

Without a second thought, I raised my hand, ready to slap off that stupid smirk that mocked me. That annoying face that felt satisfied that he had touched me in a way he shouldn't. He gripped my wrist before I could make contact with his face.

The playful smirk on his face faded, replaced by an emotionless mask. His cold eyes stared down at me with an unsettling emptiness, and a cold dread crawled over my skin.

He brought my hand to his lips, kissing my palm tenderly, his eyes holding mine. My heart raced, and my skin crawled from the kisses he trailed up my arm. "Do you know what happened to the last person who slapped me, doll?" He asked, and without waiting for an answer, I didn't have he continued, "He lost both his arms."

My breath hitched, a shudder running through me as my heart pounded so loud I was sure he could hear it. I tried to pull back, but his grip tightened.

"Do you want to lose your arms, doll?" He asked, and I shook my head, pressing my lips together, keeping myself from screaming.

He was a psychopath! A crazy man.

Why was the elevator taking longer to get to the seventh floor?

He chuckled, the darkest I had heard from him. It sent chills through me. "I wouldn't do that to you," he murmured. "I would never harm any part of your beautiful body."

If he was trying to convince me that I was safe with him, then he failed. If anything, his words sounded like a threat. A threat I should take seriously.

He leaned in again, his lips brushing against mine, then he whispered, "Are you scared of me?"

I didn't reply. I couldn't even if I wanted to. Who asks someone that after they threaten to cut their arms off?

"You shouldn't be, doll," he murmured.

The elevator doors finally opened, and he stepped away, tying his hair up in a bun, his eyes still on me. I tore my eyes away, forcing my legs to move. I stumbled out of the elevator, my legs shaking. I reached for the metal frame of the elevator to steady myself.

"Do you need help?" He teased, and I stiffened,  straightening up quickly and moving my still trembling legs away from him.

I needed to put as much distance between myself and the crazy man behind me.

"Mrs. Walsh," the CEO called as I hurried down the hallway.

"Good morning, Mr. Martinez," I greeted, turning to the direction he was coming from.

"Are you okay?" He asked concerned as he approached me.

"Yeah," I nodded, forcing a smile.

He didn't seem convinced as he opened his mouth to talk, but the footsteps behind me caught his attention. "Mr. Kingston, you made it."

My breath caught as I clenched around the strap of my purse, his footsteps getting closer.

Move! Bitch move!

"Yes, something came up yesterday," he chuckled.

"Should have called. The chairman waited."

"My bad," he chuckled again. "I didn't think he would be hiding a beauty in his company, though."

My stomach dropped, skin prickling with awareness as his eyes drilled holes into my back, and I didn't dare turn or move a muscle.

I hated this. I hated how uncomfortable he was making me.

"Ah," the CEO let out an awkward laugh. "We shouldn't keep the chairman waiting, Mr. Kingston."