I stood outside his apartment door at 7:58 with my pulse hammering in my throat.

The building was quiet, expensive, the kind of place that smelled like polished wood and money. I had changed three times before leaving the house. In the end I wore a simple dress with nothing underneath. The paper he had given me felt like it was burning a hole in my purse.

I knocked once.

Adrian opened the door in a black t-shirt and dark jeans, no white coat, no professional distance left. His eyes moved over me slowly, then he stepped aside. The moment the door closed and locked behind me, the air changed....