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Authors: Tahereh Mafi
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miserable human being. “You and I, Juliette—together? We could be unstoppable.”
I will not look at him though I feel his gaze touching every inch of my body. “No, thank you.”
We’re in the elevator. The world is whooshing past us and the walls of glass make us a spectacle to every person on every floor. There are no secrets in this building.
He touches my elbow and I pull away. “You might reconsider,” he says softly.
“How did you figure it out?” The elevator dings open but I’m not moving. I finally turn to face him because I can’t contain my curiosity. I study his hands, so carefully sheathed in leather, his sleeves thick and crisp and long. Even his collar is high and regal. He’s dressed impeccably from head to toe and covered everywhere except his face. Even if I wanted to touch him I’m not sure I’d be able to. He’s protecting himself.
From me.
“Perhaps a conversation for tomorrow night?” He cocks a brow and offers me his arm. I pretend not to notice it as we walk off the elevator and down the hall. “Maybe you could wear something nice.”
“What’s your first name?” I ask him.
We’re standing in front of my door.
He stops. Surprised. Lifts his chin almost imperceptibly. Focuses his eyes on my face until I begin to regret my question. “You want to know my name.”
I don’t do it on purpose, but my eyes narrow just a bit. “Warner is your last name, isn’t it?”
He almost smiles. “You want to know my name.”
“I didn’t realize it was a secret.”
He steps forward. His lips twitch. His eyes fall, his lips draw in a tight breath. He drops a gloved finger down the apple of my cheek. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours,” he whispers, too close to my neck.
I inch backward. Swallow hard. “You already know my name.”
He’s not looking at my eyes. “You’re right. I should rephrase that. What I meant to say was I’ll tell you mine if you show me yours.”
“What?” I’m breathing too fast too suddenly.
He begins to pull off his gloves and I begin to panic. “Show me what you can do.”
My jaw is too tight and my teeth have begun to ache. “I won’t touch you.”
“That’s all right.” He tugs off the other glove. “I don’t exactly need your help.”
“No—”
“Don’t worry.” He grins. “I’m sure it won’t hurt you at all.”
“No,” I gasp. “No, I won’t—I can’t—”
“Fine,” Warner snaps. “That’s fine. You don’t want to hurt me. I’m so utterly flattered.” He almost rolls his eyes. Looks down the hall. Spots a soldier. Beckons him over. “Jenkins?”
Jenkins is swift for his size and he’s at my side in a second.
“Sir.” He bows his head an inch even though he’s clearly Warner’s senior. He can’t be more than 27; stocky, sturdy, packed with bulk. He spares me a sidelong glance. His brown eyes are warmer than I’d expect them to be.
“I’m going to need you to accompany Ms. Ferrars back downstairs. But be warned: she’s incredibly uncooperative and will try to break free from your grip.” He smiles too slowly. “No matter what she says or does, soldier, you cannot let go of her. Are we clear?”
Jenkins’ eyes widen; he blinks, his nostrils flare, his fingers flex at his sides. He takes a short breath. Nods.
Jenkins is not an idiot.
I start running.
I’m bolting down the hallway and running past a series of stunned soldiers too scared to stop me. I don’t know what I’m doing, why I think I can run, where I think I could possibly go. I’m straining to reach the elevator if only because I think it will buy me time. I don’t know what else to do.
Warner’s commands are bouncing off the walls and exploding in my eardrums. He doesn’t need to chase me. He’s getting others to do the work for him.
Soldiers are lining up before me.
Beside me.
Behind me.
I can’t breathe.
I’m spinning in a circle of my own stupidity, panicked, pained, petrified by the thought of
I will not look at him though I feel his gaze touching every inch of my body. “No, thank you.”
We’re in the elevator. The world is whooshing past us and the walls of glass make us a spectacle to every person on every floor. There are no secrets in this building.
He touches my elbow and I pull away. “You might reconsider,” he says softly.
“How did you figure it out?” The elevator dings open but I’m not moving. I finally turn to face him because I can’t contain my curiosity. I study his hands, so carefully sheathed in leather, his sleeves thick and crisp and long. Even his collar is high and regal. He’s dressed impeccably from head to toe and covered everywhere except his face. Even if I wanted to touch him I’m not sure I’d be able to. He’s protecting himself.
From me.
“Perhaps a conversation for tomorrow night?” He cocks a brow and offers me his arm. I pretend not to notice it as we walk off the elevator and down the hall. “Maybe you could wear something nice.”
“What’s your first name?” I ask him.
We’re standing in front of my door.
He stops. Surprised. Lifts his chin almost imperceptibly. Focuses his eyes on my face until I begin to regret my question. “You want to know my name.”
I don’t do it on purpose, but my eyes narrow just a bit. “Warner is your last name, isn’t it?”
He almost smiles. “You want to know my name.”
“I didn’t realize it was a secret.”
He steps forward. His lips twitch. His eyes fall, his lips draw in a tight breath. He drops a gloved finger down the apple of my cheek. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours,” he whispers, too close to my neck.
I inch backward. Swallow hard. “You already know my name.”
He’s not looking at my eyes. “You’re right. I should rephrase that. What I meant to say was I’ll tell you mine if you show me yours.”
“What?” I’m breathing too fast too suddenly.
He begins to pull off his gloves and I begin to panic. “Show me what you can do.”
My jaw is too tight and my teeth have begun to ache. “I won’t touch you.”
“That’s all right.” He tugs off the other glove. “I don’t exactly need your help.”
“No—”
“Don’t worry.” He grins. “I’m sure it won’t hurt you at all.”
“No,” I gasp. “No, I won’t—I can’t—”
“Fine,” Warner snaps. “That’s fine. You don’t want to hurt me. I’m so utterly flattered.” He almost rolls his eyes. Looks down the hall. Spots a soldier. Beckons him over. “Jenkins?”
Jenkins is swift for his size and he’s at my side in a second.
“Sir.” He bows his head an inch even though he’s clearly Warner’s senior. He can’t be more than 27; stocky, sturdy, packed with bulk. He spares me a sidelong glance. His brown eyes are warmer than I’d expect them to be.
“I’m going to need you to accompany Ms. Ferrars back downstairs. But be warned: she’s incredibly uncooperative and will try to break free from your grip.” He smiles too slowly. “No matter what she says or does, soldier, you cannot let go of her. Are we clear?”
Jenkins’ eyes widen; he blinks, his nostrils flare, his fingers flex at his sides. He takes a short breath. Nods.
Jenkins is not an idiot.
I start running.
I’m bolting down the hallway and running past a series of stunned soldiers too scared to stop me. I don’t know what I’m doing, why I think I can run, where I think I could possibly go. I’m straining to reach the elevator if only because I think it will buy me time. I don’t know what else to do.
Warner’s commands are bouncing off the walls and exploding in my eardrums. He doesn’t need to chase me. He’s getting others to do the work for him.
Soldiers are lining up before me.
Beside me.
Behind me.
I can’t breathe.
I’m spinning in a circle of my own stupidity, panicked, pained, petrified by the thought of
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