C17 Come Here!

I snapped, "Name, now!"

There was silence on the other end, yet the line remained open.

A sudden buzz in my head had me shooting up in bed, yanking at the wound on my waist. Pain clawed through me, my insides felt like they were shifting places.

I softened my tone, belatedly realizing, "My apologies, Director Haineville. I didn't recognize your voice."

"Get over here, next door!" Wesley's icy command cut off as the call ended.

Next door?

We're next door?

He's living right next door?

What are the odds?

Stunned, I glanced at my phone's clock. 1:40 AM.

This hour, for adults with a past encounter, a midnight rendezvous was fraught with ambiguity and risk.

I redialed the number from my call log, rehearsing excuses not to go as I waited.

But he didn't pick up, letting the phone ring until it dropped the call.

Annoyance boiled inside me as I sat on the bed, thoughts tangled like a thicket of weeds.

Ding.

The text message alert nearly jolted my soul out of me.

It was that same number, unmistakable.

Eleven digits, ending in a string of five eights.

"You have three minutes. If you're not out, I'm breaking down the door!"

The text alone painted a picture of his dark, ominous scowl.

I couldn't stall any longer; if I did, he'd surely come charging in.

Dahlia had probably just gone to bed.

I didn't want to wake her, nor did I want her to find out about my secret meet-up with Wesley.

No relationship, yet a midnight meeting—it was just too awkward.

Three minutes was just enough to layer up.

I flung open the wardrobe, quickly grabbing a sweater, a hoodie, and a coat, pulling them on one after another.

I had bundled myself up so tightly that I was on the verge of suffocation. With cautious steps, I made my way out.

The moment I gently pulled the door open, I was met with a towering presence that bore down on me like a mountain. Instinctively, I threw my arms around him to brace for the impact.

Thankfully, the door frame supported my back, saving me from being flattened by his towering, one hundred and ninety-centimeter frame.

A potent mix of alcohol, men's cologne, and a hint of tobacco smoke assaulted my nostrils, nearly choking me.

Desperately, I pushed against him with both hands, but he was immovable, a solid mass that my efforts couldn't budge an inch. The struggle left me drenched in sweat.

His entire weight bore down on my shoulders, his thin lips grazing my ear, his breath hot and heavy, burrowing into my ear canal.

It sent shivers down my spine, raising goosebumps across my skin.

Unable to shift him and fearing that my voice might awaken Dahlia in the next room, I whispered urgently, "Wesley, back off! If you want to lose it, go do it at your own place!"

No sooner had the words left my mouth than the world flipped on its axis.

In the blink of an eye, I found myself slung across his broad shoulders.

The audacity of this man, to hoist me up as if I were nothing more than a sack of potatoes!