There was a knock at your door.

Early afternoon sunlight streamed across the hardwood floor as you made your way to it. The moment it opened, there she was — Emily.

She stood in the hallway wearing a loose, silky robe tied just barely at the waist, one shoulder slipping slightly off. Her cheeks were flushed pink, her hair gently tousled, and in her hands she held a small plastic container.

“Hi…” she said, smiling softly. “I’m Emily — just moved in across the hall. Thought I’d say hello properly. I made banana bread, but I forgot how much butter goes into it, so it might kill you.”

Her laugh was warm and breathy, her eyes flicking over you — studying the way you held the door open, the way you looked at her. There was a brief, charged pause before she continued, leaning just slightly against the doorframe.

“I hope I’m not bothering you. I… couldn’t help but notice how elegant your place looks from the hallway. I was curious.”

You smiled as you took her in — the robe, the flush, the way her presence filled the doorway like heat in sunlight.

“Oh, that’s alright,” you replied. “Please, come in. Thank you for the bread. I love banana bread.”

You stepped back to let her inside, and your smile deepened as you glanced once more at her attire.

Emily stepped into the apartment, the robe shifting softly around her thighs with each slow movement. Her eyes moved across the room, clearly impressed.

“Wow… your place is gorgeous. It looks like it belongs in a magazine,” she said, her voice full of honest awe. “You must have impeccable taste.”

She walked toward the kitchen counter and placed the container of banana bread gently on the surface, then turned back to face you — not quite committing to sitting, not quite leaving. Her fingers brushed her collarbone absently, playing with the edge of the robe as if she didn’t even realize what she was doing.

“I was hoping you’d be the friendly type,” she said softly, her tone dipping into playful territory. “It can get lonely across the hall, especially when the only other sound is a five-month-old screaming at 2 a.m.”

She chuckled, but there was something behind it — a glimmer in her eyes that flicked between teasing and testing. Then, in a tone just slightly sultrier, she added:

“You don’t seem like the type who gets lonely, though. Am I wrong?”

You tilted your head slightly, walking toward the couch with calm poise. “Oh, I am quite the lonely type,” you said with a gentle smile. “I enjoy my lonesome time. But I would love to enjoy your company.”

You sat on the couch and crossed your legs on top of it, glancing back up at her with invitation in your posture. “Please, sit down.”

Your eyes held hers a moment longer, then you added, “I see you’re a mother. So are you single, or a stay-at-home wife? Or do you work?”

Emily’s eyes followed the motion of your legs as you crossed them on the couch. She lingered on the sight a beat too long — not shy, not accidental. Her smile curved, slow and deliberate, the kind that hinted she knew exactly what kind of tension was building in the room.

With slow, deliberate steps, she began to walk toward you, her hips swaying just enough to feel intentional.

“Oh, I’m very single,” she said, her voice smooth like honey. “The father… well, let’s just say he’s not in the picture anymore — which I’ve learned is a bit of a blessing in disguise.”

She settled onto the couch beside you, not too close, but close enough for the scent of her to reach you — soft vanilla, and something warm and human, like sun-warmed skin. As she sat, the silk of her robe shifted again, exposing more of her thigh than could be considered strictly “neighborly.”

She let out a soft, gentle laugh.

“I work part-time from home. Writing, mostly. Articles, blogs, boring stuff,” she added with a small shrug. “But the baby’s a full-time job already. She’s… demanding.”

Emily turned her head to look at you, her voice lowering just a touch. There was a subtle suggestion woven into her tone, soft and electric.

“But sometimes I need a little escape,” she said. “Adult conversation. Someone who isn’t drooling on my shoulder.”

Then, playfully, she tilted her head, her smirk curling with mischief.

“And what about you? What do you do all day in this gorgeous apartment all alone?” Her gaze narrowed teasingly. “Sit around looking irresistible?”

You let out a small laugh. “Of course not,” you replied casually. “I work at home. I’m a Fashion Merchandising Deputy CEO.”

Emily’s brows rose, clearly impressed — and maybe with just a little more admiration than she let on. She shifted slightly, crossing her legs toward you now, her robe slipping open a little farther at the knee, skin catching the light.

“A Deputy CEO?” she repeated, smiling warmly. “Well, no wonder this place looks like a penthouse from Vogue. That’s… seriously impressive.”

She leaned in slightly, not closing the distance entirely, but enough that her voice dipped lower — velvet-rich and edged with intrigue.

“Powerful, elegant, and you work from home? That’s dangerous, you know,” she murmured. “If I had your job, I’d never leave my apartment. And maybe I wouldn’t let other people leave either…”

Her fingers brushed lightly over the fabric at her thigh, a movement so casual it might have seemed unconscious — but her eyes were anything but careless. She wasn’t just watching you. She was reading you. Measuring every flicker in your expression, calculating how far she could push, how much teasing you’d allow before your composure began to slip.

With a soft, knowing laugh, Emily tilted her head slightly.

“Is this where I pretend I just ‘dropped by to be neighborly’… or can I admit I’ve been waiting for an excuse to talk to you since the moment I saw you step out of your door in those heels?”

You smirked. “Oh, lovely lady, I’m not the type to give in easily.”

Emily let out a soft, sultry laugh — amused and intrigued in equal measure. She leaned back, just a little, still angled toward you, her fingers trailing along the edge of her robe, drawing it gently closed again — but not all the way. There was still skin, still invitation.

“Mmm…” she murmured, eyes gleaming. “I figured as much. You strike me as the type who likes to be chased — slow, deliberate… someone who enjoys watching someone work for it.”

Her head tilted, her bottom lip caught briefly between her teeth, then released with a breath. Her tone stayed light, but her gaze never wavered, the heat in it steady and bold.

“I don’t mind a challenge,” she said. “In fact, I enjoy it.”

The room fell silent. Not awkwardly — but heavily, charged. The kind of silence that stretches on purpose, thick with possibility. Then she shifted, closing the space between you ever so slightly, her knee grazing yours. Her voice dropped, low and velvet-soft.

“Let me guess… you’ll pretend you’re unbothered until I finally say or do something that makes you crack, just a little. And then you’ll act like it was all your idea.”

She smiled again, wicked and slow.

“Am I close?”

You smiled. Cool. Unshaken.

“Oh honey, you’re not close at all.”

In a swift, fluid motion, you stood — then stepped toward her, closing the distance between you in a heartbeat. You leaned down, your breath warm against her skin as you whispered near her ear.

“It’s working. You know what I’m talking about — the seduction,” you murmured, your voice a low ripple. “But you see… I’m a real hard rock to crack.”

Then, deliberately, you pressed your lips to her neck — a slow, lingering kiss that stole the air from the moment. You stood again, cool and commanding.

“Let’s try next time, shall we?”

You moved toward the coat rack, shrugging your arms into your jacket with practiced elegance.

“I was on my way to the headquarters,” you said over your shoulder. “How about tomorrow’s dinner is on me?”

You reached for your bag, your fingers brushing the leather strap before continuing, voice like silk. “And during the meantime… you could think about me.”

You turned, now fully dressed, poised, perfectly composed.

“You see, I’m the confident type. I’m sure you’re gonna think about me. A lot. That excites me.”

There was a beat — and then you smirked. Just slightly. Seductive and certain. Your teeth caught your bottom lip, a small bite that said more than words could.

“Shall we leave?”

Emily froze for just a moment — her breath hitching the second your lips brushed her neck. Her eyelids fluttered, and her pulse visibly quickened, but she masked it with a soft, trembling exhale. When you pulled back and rose to your full height, she looked up at you — eyes dark, lips slightly parted, caught in that perfect balance between challenge and desire.

“Oh…” she whispered, almost breathless. “You are dangerous.”

She stood slowly, smoothing her robe like she needed something — anything — to do with her hands, trying to steady herself. But the heat burning behind her gaze gave her away. You’d cracked something. Even if only a little.

“Dinner tomorrow sounds perfect,” she said, lips curling into a crooked smile. “I’ll bring the appetite… you bring the mystery.”

As you slipped into your coat and grabbed your bag, she stepped in slightly — just enough for her voice to drop, fingers grazing your wrist in a fleeting, electric touch.

“And just so you know…” she murmured, her words barely louder than the hum of your heartbeat, “I’ll be thinking about you too. Probably more than I should.”

She stepped back, allowing you to pass, but her eyes stayed on you — watching from behind, the curve of her lips hinting at a smirk. Already hooked. Already planning her next move.

“Oh, of course. I’m a busy woman,” you said, calm and sure as ever.

Emily chuckled under her breath, the sound soft and smoky, her gaze still lit with that amused fire.

“Of course you are,” she replied. “I wouldn’t expect anything less from a woman like you.”

She followed you to the door, adjusting her robe just enough to be modest — but it was far too late for innocence. You’d seen it all, and you’d left her wanting more.

As you stepped into the hallway, the muffled life of the city floated up through the corridor — the distant honk of horns, the whisper of air conditioning, the occasional shuffle of footsteps beyond the apartment walls. Everyday noise, somehow now punctuated by a very particular tension.

Leaning against her doorframe, Emily let her gaze linger on you once more.

“I’ll be waiting for tomorrow night, then,” she said, a playful threat in her tone. “Don’t keep me waiting too long… or I might come looking.”

With a wink — sultry, bold — she slipped back into her apartment, closing the door behind her with a soft click that felt louder than it should have.

You smiled as you watched her go. Your eyes traced the space where she had just stood, and then you turned, smirking to yourself.

This is going to be interesting.

You stepped into the elevator, the metal doors gliding shut with a muted chime. As the car descended, you leaned slightly against the polished wall.

She’s talking to me like I’m the one who should be impressed, you mused, a quiet laugh under your breath. She lives on the same floor, in an identical apartment. And yet we both know who the big shot is here.

There was something thrilling about it — about seeing someone on equal footing who still stirred fire beneath your skin. Dangerous. Delicious.

Let’s see what she does next, you whispered to yourself as the elevator doors opened onto the lobby. With your coat fluttering behind you, you exited the building and made your way to the office.

Behind her closed door, Emily leaned against the wall, her chest rising and falling with each slow, measured breath. A grin tugged at her lips — flushed, heady, disoriented in the best way. Your scent still lingered in the air, and the ghost of your lips on her neck made her shiver.

“She’s going to ruin me…” she murmured, voice low and husky.

She laughed softly to herself, dragging a hand through her hair as baby Lily babbled from the other room, blissfully unaware of the storm her mother had just walked into. Emily took one final deep breath, straightened, and headed inside. She was supposed to write, but her mind was nowhere near her work.

Author’s Note

Hi everyone,

I’m the author of this novel, and I’m beyond excited to finally share it with you. Ashes and Vows is my very first book — a story born from love, pain, resilience, and everything in between.

This journey means the world to me, and I truly hope it finds a place in your heart. If you enjoy it, please don’t hesitate to leave your thoughts, reactions, and support in the comments. Every word from you means more than you know.

Thank you for being here. Let’s take this journey together. 💜

— With love,

The Author