Chase
Allie looked at me as though I had suggested marriage instead of a guest room.
“No.”
We stood in the middle of her bedroom while Mia packed clothes into a small travel bag. The curtains remained closed, and two members of my security team were downstairs reviewing camera footage with the building manager.
Allie had not moved since I suggested she stay at my house.
Her arms were folded tightly across her chest, and fear had turned into stubbornness.
“It is temporary,” I said.
“It still feels like moving in.”
“You would be staying in the guest room.”
“Under your roof.”
“Yes.”
“That sounds serious.”
“It sounds like architecture.”
Mia stopped folding a sweater and looked at me.
“That was not helpful.”
“I was trying to reduce the tension.”
“You failed,” Allie said.
I step
