She sits in my living room like she belongs here.

Soft lamplight spills across the couch while she scrolls through her phone, unaware that I’m standing in the hallway watching every quiet movement. Every breath. Every shift of her shoulders. Control has always been my greatest strength. I built my life on discipline and distance.

But she is the one exception. A puzzle I shouldn’t want to solve.

I kept my distance for months, close enough to protect her, far enough to keep myself intact. Because if I stepped closer, I knew I wouldn’t stop. The threat against her forced my hand. Bringing her here was the safest option. In this house, nothing touches her without going through me.

Still, she sits only a few feet away. Close enough to touch. Close enough to ruin me. She was never meant for a man like me. My desire. My personal hell. My ruin. My voice finally breaks the silence.

“You’re the only unpredictable thing in this house,” I tell her softly. “And I’m still deciding if that’s a problem.”