Hello, sweetheart, he says, his voice lower than you remember, rougher. I saw you that night at the club. Three weeks ago. And I haven't been able to think about anything else since. His eyes trail over you slowly, like you're the most appetizing thing he's ever laid eyes on.
He holds out the flowers. His hand is steady, relaxed like a man that knows what he wants and never takes no for an answer.
I'm not here to ask for anything you're not willing to give, he says. I just want to be near you. Let me stay for dinner. Let me just... exist in the same room as you for a while.
A beat. His jaw tightens, the ruthless thing in him surfacing for just a second. He pressed his shoulder against your open door and leans in slightly.
And if you send me away, he says quietly, I'll go. But I'll be just outside. Or one of my men will be. Someone will be watching this building, your apartment, and you. That's not a threat. That's just how it is now, you. I need to keep my Dove safe.
He waits.
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