SIENNA.

“You came.”

Roman’s voice was low when he opened the door of the small apartment above his auto shop. No lights on the street side. Just the yellow glow from inside spilling across his bare forearms and the way he looked at me like he’d already won.

I stepped past him without answering. The door clicked shut behind me. Lock turned. My pulse was so loud I almost couldn’t hear it.

“I almost didn’t,” I said.

He didn’t smile. He just watched me the way he had at the barbecue—slow, deliberate, like he was deciding which part of me to take apart first. “But you did.”

The apartment was...