Chapter 4: His Territory

Milan's POV

I didn't have time to wonder why he'd appeared here. Right now, Sorensen was my lifeline. I grabbed onto him instinctively. "Save me. Please."

The men who'd been chasing me saw the stranger beside me, their expressions turning ugly.

"Hey, kid, hand over the girl. Now."

Sorensen's smile vanished. His voice turned cold. "And if I don't?"

"Then you're dead."

The thugs lunged at him with fists raised.

I screamed and ducked behind him. His six-foot-three frame became a solid wall between me and danger, those powerful shoulders an impenetrable barrier. The firm contours of muscle beneath my grip sent a surge of reassurance through my chest.

My eyes were squeezed shut, but somehow I still believed in him.

"Ahhh!"

"Fuck!"

Seconds later, screams erupted. I looked up to see the first attacker now sprawled several yards away, groaning on the pavement.

Jesus Christ. That man had to be five-eleven, three hundred pounds. How the hell had Sorensen thrown him that far?

His strength was terrifying. And I'd actually slapped him twice earlier.

A chill ran down my spine.

The remaining two thugs froze mid-charge, caught between advancing and retreating.

Sorensen took a single step forward. Both men flinched.

"You... you just wait..." They bolted, abandoning their groaning companion on the ground.

Crisis averted. Sorensen turned to me.

"Well, princess? Legs still working, or should I carry you?"

I caught the mockery in his tone and stepped out from behind him. "Of course I'm fine. Thank you for that."

Worried the men might return, I decided to leave quickly. But I'd barely taken two steps when a warm hand caught my wrist.

"I don't like being kept waiting."

Irritated, I tried to shake him off, but his grip was iron. I couldn't budge him.

"What the hell do you want?"

The amusement in his eyes deepened.

"You said it yourself, didn't you? If it's a service, you pay a service fee. I just saved you. You planning to walk away without settling up? That doesn't seem like your style."

Looking at his face, I understood. He was planning to get back at me for earlier.

I taunted him. "I said that when I thought you were a prostitute. So what, you're admitting that's what you are now?"

"If you admit you're a prostitute, fine. Tell me how much this service costs. I'll pay you."

I had enough money on me to cover this arrogant escort, even if I couldn't afford treatment.

His expression darkened visibly. I thought I'd won.

But then his gaze turned calculating. "This service doesn't cost money."

"Then what do you want? Didn't realize you were the greedy type."

I was still mocking him, completely oblivious to the shift in the air. The next second, he yanked me against him.

"Ah!"

My hands flew to his chest. Those firm pecs made my knees weak. The defined ridges of his abs pressed against my stomach through his thin shirt.

"I want to finish what we started last time."

My heart hammered. "No!"

"Ah!"

The image of those men surrounding me flashed through my mind. My reaction was too strong, my shout too loud.

Sorensen stopped. An awkward silence fell between us.

He released me, studying me for a long moment, then turned and walked away.

Seeing him give up, I exhaled in relief and headed in the opposite direction.

But after a few steps, I froze.

Where was I going?

I didn't want to go home. That place wasn't my home anymore.

At least I still had some money in my bank account. If I was careful, it would cover a hotel for a while.

Just as I started searching for hotels, my phone rang. The bank.

"Ms. Milan, your bank account has been frozen. Given the substantial balance, we wanted to notify you personally."

"What?!" I couldn't believe it. After pressing for details, the representative told me someone had ordered the freeze.

My heart sank.

Only my parents had that kind of authority. They wouldn't even leave me this last shred of dignity?

With my card frozen, I had less than ten thousand dollars in cash on me.

That wouldn't last long at a hotel. What now?

Lost, I looked around aimlessly.

Suddenly, a figure entered my line of sight—Sorensen emerging from a convenience store down the street, a bag of bread in hand, heading deeper into the alley.

Sorensen!

My thoughts snapped into focus.

He wasn't bad, actually. Handsome, great body, could clearly handle himself. His place had to be cheaper than a hotel, right? If I paid him to stay there, I'd essentially have a free bodyguard if danger showed up again.

Not to mention, after rejecting him so many times, I was starting to regret it. I had cancer anyway. My life was on a countdown—maybe a month, maybe a few months, but definitely not long.

Rather than waste time on anything else, why not spend it with him...

Determined, I followed him. Watching him walk farther away, I hurried to catch up.

As I drew closer, I saw him pause briefly. My heart tightened. I stopped instinctively.

Thankfully, he didn't turn around. He kept walking.

I wasn't far behind—just a burst of speed would close the gap—but I held back, unsure how to approach him.

I kept calling him a prostitute, but he wasn't one. I wanted to sleep with him, but I didn't want him to hate me.

We maintained that strange distance until he turned into a side alley and disappeared from view.

Panicking, I quickened my pace, but at the corner, I crashed face-first into a wall of muscle.

"So the princess is also a stalker?"

Sorensen's eyes danced with amusement as he watched me flounder.

He'd done it on purpose!

Caught, I threw caution to the wind and straightened my spine, which only made my chest more prominent. Sorensen's gaze flickered downward, his brow twitching.

"Listen, prostitute. I need you."

His expression soured. "I told you. I'm not a prostitute."

Ignoring his mood, I pulled four thousand dollars from my purse.

"I'm renting you. And your place. This is the fee."

In the darkness, his gaze was inscrutable, studying me intently.

I forced myself to appear calm, maintaining the poise and arrogance befitting a socialite.

After an agonizingly long twenty seconds, he sighed.

"Follow me."

Relief flooded through me. I fell into step behind him.

Beyond the alley stood a rental building. He unlocked the door and led me up to the second floor.

When he opened the door to his apartment, I was greeted by a cramped two-bedroom unit.

The so-called living room was barely bigger than my bathroom at home.

If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn't have believed such a tiny space could hold a TV, couch, rug, and various other furnishings.

I walked in, wrinkling my nose.

He pointed to a worn sofa.

"You can sleep there tonight."

My attention wasn't on the peeling, grease-stained couch. I glanced at the two bedroom doors and asked casually, "Two rooms. You have a roommate? A girlfriend?"

"No, just another tenant. He lives with his boyfriend. They're not back yet, but should be soon."

"Fine. Which room is yours?"

"Right side. Why?"

I pulled out four large bills from my purse.

"Rent. Your room's mine now. You can take the couch."

I hooked my finger through his collar and tucked the money inside, then turned the bedroom doorknob under his stunned gaze.

The room contained a single bed with faded, neatly made sheets, a nightstand, and a clothing rack. Nothing else.

As I surveyed the space, footsteps approached from behind.

Sorensen entered and closed the door. In this cramped room, we were alone.

He moved toward me. I stepped back instinctively.

"What... what are you doing..."

My legs hit the bed frame. Nowhere left to go.

My heart raced as that handsome face drew closer and closer.