The twenty-minute drive to Scarlett’s flat seemed both far too long and far too short, and when she finally climbed out of the car with a murmured thanks, I couldn’t muster more than a nod. I waited until she made it safely inside before I drove away, but the scent of her lingered. Scarlett is off limits. Vincent’s warning echoed in my head. I was inclined to heed it—not because I was afraid of him, but because I was afraid of what getting close to Scarlett might do to me if I didn’t.
