Chapter 4: A Dangerous Fascination

Ethan’s world had narrowed down to the space between his apartment and the one next door. He hated how much of his time was now spent listening—waiting—for any sign of her. He told himself it wasn’t obsession, that he was just… curious.

But curiosity didn’t make his pulse spike every time he heard her laugh. Curiosity didn’t make his stomach knot when he imagined what went on behind her closed door.

It was something else entirely—something dangerous.

That evening, he found himself seated at his small, wobbly desk, staring blankly at the open pages of a book he hadn’t read a single word of. His mind was elsewhere. On her.

Through the thin walls, he could hear the faint sounds of music—low, sultry, almost hypnotic. And then… voices. A man’s voice. Deep. Confident.

His grip on his pen tightened.

**She has company.**

Ethan clenched his jaw, fighting the irrational tension creeping up his spine. What did he expect? A woman like Sienna wasn’t the kind to spend nights alone, curled up with books and tea like he did. She was the kind of woman men gravitated toward—drawn like moths to a flame, knowing full well they’d be burned.

And yet, despite knowing that, he still felt the sting of something unpleasant curl in his chest.

He pushed away from his desk and stood, pacing his small apartment. The air felt suffocating, heavy with thoughts he didn’t want to acknowledge.

**It doesn’t concern you.**

But when a low, breathy laugh drifted through the wall, something in him snapped. Without thinking, he stepped closer to the source of the sound, pressing his palm against the cool surface of the thin partition that separated their apartments. His heart pounded, his breaths shallow. He could hear them clearer now—her voice a soft murmur, his voice a deep rumble.

A chair scraped. Footsteps. A pause. And then—

A moan. Soft. Barely audible. But it sent a bolt of heat through Ethan’s body like an electric current. His fingers curled into fists at his sides.

His jaw tightened. He shouldn’t be listening. This was wrong. He was being ridiculous—pathetic, even. But no matter how much he tried to convince himself, his feet remained rooted to the floor, his body tense and unmovable.

Then, just as suddenly as the sounds had started, they stopped.

Silence stretched between the walls, so thick and heavy that Ethan could hear the rapid pounding of his own heart. He exhaled shakily, stepping away, ashamed of himself—ashamed of the way his skin burned with jealousy over something that wasn’t his to claim.

Shoving a hand through his hair, he forced himself to walk away, but the moment he did, there was a knock at his door.

His stomach flipped.

He hesitated, swallowing hard before opening it. And there she was, standing in his doorway, leaning lazily against the frame as if she had all the time in the world.

Sienna.

Her lips were curved in that knowing smirk, dark eyes flickering with amusement as they swept over him.

“You always this quiet, Ethan?” she asked, her voice silky, teasing. “Or is it just me that makes you nervous?”

He felt his throat tighten, words failing him. She smelled like vanilla and something richer, something intoxicating.

He fought to keep his expression neutral. “What… are you doing here?”

Sienna tilted her head, feigning innocence. “What, I can’t visit my new neighbor?”

He didn’t buy it.

Something about the way she stood there, watching him like she was waiting for a reaction, made him uneasy.

And then he noticed something else—the faintest trace of red on her lips, slightly smudged, like someone had kissed her not long ago.

His stomach clenched.

Sienna must have caught where his gaze lingered because she smiled—a slow, taunting thing that sent heat creeping up his neck.

“Ah,” she mused, touching her lips thoughtfully. “Jealous?”

His body went rigid. “No.”

She laughed softly. “Liar.”

He clenched his jaw, forcing himself to breathe evenly. “I don’t even know you.”

“And yet you listen,” she murmured, stepping closer. “You *watch*.”

Ethan’s pulse went wild. “I don’t—”

She reached up, brushing her fingers along the collar of his shirt, barely touching him, but the ghost of contact sent a sharp jolt through his body. “You do,” she whispered. “You think about me more than you want to admit.”

Ethan’s breath stuttered. His instincts screamed at him to step back, to put space between them, but he couldn’t. He was frozen, trapped under the weight of her presence.

Then, just as quickly as she had invaded his space, she stepped back, her smirk deepening as if she’d found exactly what she was looking for.

“Goodnight, Ethan,” she purred before turning on her heel and walking away, disappearing behind her door.

Ethan stood there long after she was gone, his entire body thrumming with frustration, confusion, and something darker—something he couldn’t name.

He had the sinking feeling he was already in too deep.

And Sienna? She knew it.