Ryan sat in the chair beside the bed, rubbing his temples where a wine hangover was making itself known.
The atmosphere in the bedroom was beyond awkward.
Evelyn had wrapped herself in the comforter like a protective cocoon, only her face visible—pale, flushed, and radiating emotions somewhere between fury and mortification.
After the initial screaming had subsided, they’d both managed to calm down enough to think.
Sort of.
“Last night was…
an accident,” Ryan said finally, breaking the heavy silence.
He kept his voice steady, trying to sound reasonable.
“You were drugged.
At the entrance to the neighborhood.
I stopped them from—I saved you.” He explained what had happened—Derek, the two enforcers, the drug, bringing her here.
He left out the crossbow bolt through Derek’s knee.
Some details weren’t relevant.
Evelyn’s expression shifted as she listened—confusion, then recognition, then horror as fragments of memory surfaced.
The bar.
Derek buying her a drink.
The sudden dizziness.
Running.
The woods.
“I remember,” she said quietly.
Then her eyes snapped back to Ryan, cold and sharp.
“But that doesn’t explain why you didn’t take me to a hospital.” Her voice hardened.
“Why did you bring me to your house?” Ryan opened his mouth.
Then closed it.
What am I supposed to say?
That I couldn’t risk going to a hospital because the apocalypse is coming in twelve hours and I needed to stay here?
That the entire world is about to end and a hospital visit might interfere with my final preparations?
He couldn’t tell her any of that without sounding completely insane.
“I…” Ryan started, then stopped.
“It was late.
You were in bad shape.
I thought—” “You thought what?” Evelyn’s eyes blazed.
“That bringing an unconscious woman to your bedroom was the ethical choice?” “That’s not—I tried to help!
I put you under cold water, I tried to—” Ryan ran his hand through his hair, frustrated.
“Look, I know how this looks, but I wasn’t trying to—” He gestured helplessly at the messy bed, the scattered clothes, the obvious evidence of what had happened.
Evelyn stared at him, her jaw working.
Ryan could see her cycling through emotions—anger, shame, confusion.
She was trying to summon the rage she should be feeling, the fury of violation.
But something was stopping her.
Maybe it was the memory of those men in the woods.
The genuine terror of what would have happened if Ryan hadn’t intervened.
Maybe it was the hazy recollection of last night—of being the one who’d pulled him into the bathroom, who’d initiated…
Evelyn’s cheeks went bright red and she looked away sharply.
Don’t think about that.
Don’t.
She knew Ryan Matthews vaguely.
Another resident of the ultra-wealthy villa section.
She’d seen him around occasionally—usually looking somewhat lost, definitely not the aggressive predator type.
She’d heard through neighborhood gossip that he’d recently broken up with some girlfriend.
That he’d sold his parents’ company.
That he was maybe having some kind of quarter-life crisis.
But he’d never struck her as dangerous.
And despite everything—despite waking up naked in his bed—some part of her couldn’t muster the hatred she should be feeling.
There was anger, yes.
Humiliation, absolutely.
Confusion, frustration, a desire to scream.
But not the visceral rage she’d expect.
Maybe because she remembered, dimly, that she’d been a willing participant.
That the drug had turned her into someone else, someone desperate and demanding.
God, what did I do?
Evelyn pulled the comforter tighter around herself.
“I need clothes,” she said flatly.
Ryan blinked.
“What?” “Clothes.” Evelyn gestured at herself.
“Unless you expect me to walk home in a shredded dress.
Which, given how this morning is going, wouldn’t surprise me.” “Right.
Yeah.
Of course.” Ryan stood and went to his closet, pulling out a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants.
“These will be too big, but—” “Just give them to me and turn around,” Evelyn snapped.
Ryan handed her the clothes and immediately turned to face the wall.
He heard rustling as Evelyn got dressed—his oversized clothes would look ridiculous on her, but at least they were better than nothing.
“Okay,” she said after a minute.
Ryan turned back.
Evelyn stood there wearing his Columbia University t-shirt and grey sweatpants, both comically large on her frame.
She’d rolled up the pant legs and the sleeves.
Her hair was still messy from sleep.
She looked absurd.
And somehow still beautiful.
Evelyn caught his expression and her face flushed again.
“Don’t,” she warned.
“I wasn’t—” “Yes you were.” She crossed her arms.
“What happened last night stays between us.
You understand?
If I hear even a rumor about this from anyone else in the neighborhood, I will make your life a living hell.
Are we clear?” Ryan nodded.
“Crystal clear.” “Good.” Evelyn moved toward the bedroom door, clearly ready to leave and never speak of this again.
“Wait,” Ryan said.
If you are interested can check it out.