This is a bucket list, she thought, scanning the content of the paper.

Aiden moved to take it from her hand. His knee buckled. Biting back on the pain, he winced.

"Are you okay?" Charlotte rushed to his side. Her face was etched with worry. "What's wrong?" Shit. It must be his injury.

"It's nothing. I walked quite a long way to come here, which has put undue pressure on my leg." He wavered as if the weak muscles protested under strain of standing up.

"Are you sure? You look clammy." Charlotte rushed to put her hand around his waist and accompanied him to the couch. He collapsed the moment she relinquished her hold. "Do you have any medications?"

"I-in my car," he said through gritted teeth. The blinding pain made him groan. "It's a black Range Rover three blocks outside the red building that's a hotel."

"But parking outside it isn't allowed."

"The doorman there still thinks I am a cop."

"Remind me to laugh later about this." As she fished for his car keys in his jeans pocket, she told him, "I will be back. Don't move."

Aiden almost laughed but ended up muttering an oath.

Charlotte scrambled down the three blocks in her flip flops and grabbed the pills from the dashboard at record speed. Forty minutes later, as she re-entered her living room, she cried, "let me grab some water."

She could tell Aiden hated the injury fate had foisted on him. When she hurried back to where he lay panting in pain, it was a task to help him take the meds. 

Gulping for air, he screwed his eyes shut. She sat down on the edge of the coffee table, not knowing what else to do. As the minutes ticked by, he began to knead his jeans-clad thigh as if to loosen up the tightness in the muscles.

"Let me do it," she volunteered without a thought. Reaching out, she pushed his hands away and applied pressure with her fingers, massaging the tender area.

"Jesus," He hissed. "It hurts."

"I am so sorry," Charlotte cried, removing her hands.

"Do you have an ice pack?"

"I do. Let me get it." She jumped to her feet and raced to her kitchen to grab the gel ice pack she had bought several months ago to counteract the stiffness from her morning runs. "Here, this should do it."

When he placed it on his thigh, he let out a sigh of relief while sinking back onto the couch.

Without a word, Charlotte plopped down on the other end and watched him with apprehension. As his pallor returned to normal, the silence in the room became awkward. His nearness chased goosebumps down her spine. It amazed her how attuned she was to his breathing.

Feeling overwhelmed, Charlotte turned on the television and flipped channels until she came upon an episode of Fawlty Towers, a show her father loved. The slapstick antics of the actors filled the stillness that hung in the air.

She glanced at him. His eyes were glued to the screen, but she was not sure if he really watched the comedy show. When the program ended, she decided to speak first. "Do you miss being a detective?"

A noncommittal grunt sounded in response.

"I missed California and the freelance photography I did out there." Well, if he won't talk, it didn't mean she couldn't.

"And you left it to save your brother from a bad cop like me," Aiden retorted.

"No, I returned when James parted ways from his ex-wife and he needed some support. My mother is not a caring sort. My dad died when I was very young," she supplied.

"Your grandfather took charge of your upbringing while your mother was happy to play the role of a divorced parent with once-a-week visitation rights rather than a grieving widow." At her surprised look, he said, "Digging the dirt on your family was part of the investigation. It is routine. We try to learn as much as possible about the suspects and their environment."

Her curiosity turned bitter. "It seems you know a lot about me, but I hardly know anything about me. You are a stranger. A stranger at my home."

"Are you scared of this stranger?" His eyes ensnared hers.

"No, I am not." She shook her head.

Aiden kept silent as if lost for words. His eyes flickered to her lips, making her breath hitch. Was he thinking of kissing her? Her heartbeat skittered.

"I should hate you for trying to ruin my family's happiness. But I don't," Charlotte admitted huskily.

"Why not?" He retorted as if wanting to feel some vindication for what had happened.

"I did hate you for a while, but we were all fooled, remember." Despite his profession, Aiden had been blinded. She could see his failure cut him deep.

"It cost me my career." He grimaced. "Now, I am running my dad's company."

"Don't you like it?" Charlotte shot him an inquisitive look. 

"It is my father's dream. He wanted to spread cheer into other people's households through furniture and had the eye for the business." Aiden laughed. The sound was at odds with the resignation on his face before it smoothed. "Business model has changed and Oasis Box is a dying company."

"Your heart is still in the police force. Why don't you give yourself a year? If you don't like it, you can sell the company and do something  related to police work?" she suggested.

"You are planning my exit strategy?" His stare hardened.

"There are always other dreams to follow," Charlotte explained with a shrug.

"What if I don't want other dreams but the one I can't have," he insisted stubbornly.

"I am sorry. I have no right to barge into your life and pretend to know how you feel," she murmured. Her mind reverted to the list she had read earlier. It looked like a bucket list. There was still hope for him. He just needed to move forward, and maybe she needed to stay away from him.

"Hallelujah to that," Aiden muttered.

Charlotte heard his animosity. "Whatever you have planned for this summer, I wish you luck with it. You won't hear from me after today, Aiden."

Her heart ached as the gnawing feeling in the pit of her stomach deepened. Who was she kidding? She will always be his archenemy's sister.

Almost an hour later, he turned to find Charlotte sleeping rather inelegantly. Her mouth was open slightly; she looked so peaceful in sleep. Something tugged at his heart. Shaking his head, he reached for the remote and hit the power off button.

With care, Aiden stretched his leg. The intense, jaw-gritting pain had receded into mild throbbing. Feeling brave, he stood up, testing his limb. Throwing another look at her, he made his way to the kitchen for water.

As he quenched his thirst, he wondered if he should leave quietly. Being here, under one roof with Charlotte, had him agitated. It addled his brain with images he had no business conjuring. The more he learnt about her, the more intrigued he became. He knew nothing about her old life that wasn't relevant in nailing James for his alleged crimes.

A whimper snagged his attention. Then a soul-jolting cry rented the air. "Noooo. Please don't die. You can't... Stay alive. Please."

Fuck. A ribbon of dread spiralled through him. Egged by adrenaline, he limped back to find Charlotte's hand flailing as if caught in the throes of nightly terror. The ghastly paleness of her face terrified him.

"Wake up." He shook her gently.

"Please. Save him." She let out a gut-wrenching wail.

"Charlotte!" Aiden shook her again with both hands. "Wake up." He lightly tapped her cheek. "It is nothing but a nightmare. I am okay."

Her eyes popped open. She stared about before her gaze settled on him. Those beautiful eyes, now red-rimmed, widened. With a shaky breath, she said, "Oh God, you are alive. It-it was so real." Before he knew it, she hurtled herself at him.

Aiden held her. His inner voice screamed at him to not let things go farther than they already were. The need to protect, which dwelled inside him, overrode the warning. Soothing her back, he allowed her to vent out her despair.

"There was too much blood, Aiden. You w-were dying. Your blood was all over me. Oh my God, I thought you would die that night," she stammered, looking stricken.

"Shh, I am here, alive," he consoled her in a hushed voice.

She had borne witness to the gory aftermath of gunshot wounds, especially the fatal one. The bullet to his chest had missed his heart by mere inches. He could imagine what such a macabre scene had done to her. Had she truly been covered in his blood? He didn't remember much after he had been shot. His grip tightened at the thought. He comforted her until she had calmed down. 

"Have you seen a therapist about this?" he asked after a while.

She motioned her head in the negative and pulled away with a blush. Tucking her hair behind her ear, she replied, "I don't like talking to strangers who charge exorbitant fees."

"I understand." He felt angry at himself. His stupidity had led them down this road.

Embarrassed, she mumbled, "I shouldn't dump my worries on you. It is not fair, as you have suffered a lot too."

His eyebrows shot up at her unselfishness. Yes, he had suffered debilitating pain and bouts of depression, which had become his constant companion. But he had never thought in his wildest dream that someone else could be as affected as he would be. It unravelled him.

"I should leave." He made to go.

"Stay. I have a spare bedroom," she pleaded. Desire lurked in her eyes. "You can't drive with a bad leg."

"I will take a cab," he said. His disability frustrated him. He didn't want her to see him like this. Broken and all but crippled.

"And come back for your car tomorrow?"

"Don't you get it? I hate myself for putting you in this position, Charlotte?"

"You saved my life."

"After I fucked up."

She got up and stood in front of him. Glancing at him, she reached for his shirt and pulled at it.

Inhaling a sharp breath, he remained still. His heart pounded against his ribcage in anticipation of his next move. His breathing became shallow.

Slowly, Charlotte dragged his shirt up until the bullet scar on his chest was revealed. "This easily could have been me. Let the past go, Aiden. Hating me would take you nowhere."

"I don't hate you." His voice came out ragged. "Never."

A smile framed those full lips. Her eyes locked with his once more, and then she leaned forward and branded the broken flesh with a touch of her finger.

Aiden sucked in his breath at the gesture. Hell! He should grab the moment and kiss her senseless, but he made no move. Right now was not the time. She was clearly overcome with post-traumatic stress.

Her finger lingered on the spot where the bullet had pierced the flesh and sinew. Shyly, she sneaked a glance at him. Caution shadowed her face as if preparing for rejection. "Please stay tonight for your sake and leave tomorrow when you feel better. I don't want your injury to relapse."

"Where is the guestroom?" he asked. His leg was killing him. She was right, but he would be damned to sleep with her in her most vulnerable state.

"To the hall on the left. There are two spare rooms. Take your pick."

"You should get some rest too. I will see you tomorrow morning." Aiden took a step back. He had to put a distance between them, or else he would sate his lust with her. The walk to the guestroom was the longest walk of his life.

After a bit of tossing and turning, Charlotte had succumbed to exhaustion. Thankfully, her sleep remained nightmare-free for the rest of the night.

Despite going late to bed, she was up early, just from the excitement of knowing that Aiden had stayed overnight. After blow-drying her hair, she headed to the guestrooms downstairs to find  he had taken residence in the first room of the two guestrooms.

There was no sign of him in the rumpled bed. She could hear the shower running. The man was an early riser like her. At least, he hadn't bolted the first thing in the morning like most men were wont to do. It said a lot about his character. The tidbit gave her a pause before she made her way to fix breakfast. With a smile, she wondered how he liked his eggs.

As Charlotte prepared the batter for the pancake, her thoughts went to Aiden's bucket list. What was that all about? If he was planning a trip to England, she was the perfect person to ask for sightseeing tips as she had visited the country many times. Her stay at the Claridge's had remained unrivalled so far.

Now bungee jumping! It looked like he lived for a high-stake adventure. She shuddered at the thought. She rather had her feet planted on the ground. What was the last item on the list?  Sex with the socialite—

Suddenly, the doorbell invaded her musings. Charlotte frowned. Who in the world could it be? It should be unlawful for people to show up this early at her doorstep.

Thinking it was Gigi, she opened the door to falter at the sight of her brother. The blood drained from her face as she thought of Aiden, who was just a few feet away from James.

"Good morning, sis." He grinned. "I thought to surprise you today. Surprise."

This was not happening to her. It felt surreal. Charlotte wanted to die on the spot. This was worse than any of her nightmares.

Author's note:

A big shout to the readers from Finland, Australia and Ghana. Can't thank you enough.