Defeat was a bitter pill. The acrid taste of it coated her tongue. Infected her with poisonous self-doubt and pity. She'd thought Marai would at least listen to her case and support her. One strong woman shielding another's back.

Instead she'd been scolded like an errant child who'd made a mess of her toys and told to clean it up or go on a time out.

How was that any way to shape and guide a mentee?

Needing to clear her head, Priya decided to forgo the train and walked home from the office. The weight of Oculus files in her purse. Not that she needed them. Apparently all she was needed or was to stroke the male ego. Why the hell had she bothered to kill herself at Harvard Law for four years if she was never going to be taken seriously?

There'd been a bit of this kind of stuff at school—with students and professors. But she'd always shrugged it off and laughed. Men were men. Boys were boys. She'd never stopped to think that this was actually going to be a running theme for the rest of her life.

Rounding the corner her eyes lifted and fell on the glowing windows of her neighbor's brownstone. Her stride slowed. Stopped.

It was late—near ten—but the lights were on and no music blaring. Good. Apparently, his apology muffin had been a sincere one. Even if he was an arrogant bastard, her mother had raised her with better manners, and a gift of any kind demanded a cursory Thank You.

So, before she lost her nerve, Priya marched purposely up the steps to his door and gently knocked. Just in case he was sleeping.

Please be sleeping.

The polite thing to do would be to match his peace offering with one of her own, except she hadn't thought of it until now, and stood on his doorstep like an empty-handed fool.

A note.

He'd left one, so why couldn't she? Reaching into her purse, Priya plucked out her steno pad and had just uncapped the pen when the door whisked open, and there he was. In all his gorgeous splendor. Long black hair loose.

Shirtless.

Or near to, as his hipster navy plaid shirt was unbuttoned from neck to navel, revealing a wide chest with firm pectorals and the hard-locking plates of serious abs. The sleeves rolled up over powerful forearms covered in thick bold lines of tribal ink.

Scheisse.

A ghost of a smirk etched across his face like he'd either heard her coming or knew she'd slink over in the dead of night, and leaned against the frame. Braced by one brawny arm supporting his towering mass, muscles bunching and coiling with movement. Jeans slung low on narrow hips, accented by a sculpted vee that tugged her gaze as low as those jeans dared go.

Priya's mouth fell open. Very nearly drooled.

"Hi." She waved the steno pad, awkwardly fanning herself. "I just—well, was on my way home. Your lights..." She stuffed the steno pad back into her purse. "This morning. Thank you."

His lips spread into a full wattage smile, white teeth bright against deeply tanned skin and the bones in Priya's legs sizzled like caramel in a pan.

This time, instead of closing the door, he reached for her hand and tugged her across the threshold. Priya barely managed a gasp as the door was pushed shut, sealing her inside. God, he was tall. Ridiculously tall.

Lifting his hands, he flagged them in front of her. Wait, he seemed to say. And then pointed to the spot where she stood. Stay right here. He turned and stalked off into his home, leaving her standing with her back against the now closed door. The door she should be on the other side of. Instead she was in his home.

And what a home!

New walls and refinished floors—original, she'd stack her money on it. The colours soft, and airy—making the entryway feel larger and more spacious.

And something amazing wafted from the kitchen. Savory but bright.

Priya heard the dragging of a drawer being opened and slapped shut. When he returned, he was wearing gloves. Not the creepy leather serial killer kind, otherwise she'd have screamed and drop kicked him in the nuts. These ones were mesh-like sports gloves, fingerless but with wires webbed across the back, and a battery pack cinched at the wrist.

Smiling, he pressed a hand to his chest then dropped two fingers to tap the others on his left and almost immediately a rough, masculine voice slid out—slightly mechanical but with a hint of inflection that was almost lifelike. <Sorry for hauling you inside, but I thought you might run off again before I had a chance to explain,> he said but his lips hadn't moved at all. Either he was a close-mouthed ventriloquist. Or he couldn't speak.

The voice, she realized, spoke from a narrow speaker strapped to his left wrist like a watch. Heat blasted Priya's cheeks like she'd wrenched open an oven door and shoved her face inside. Holy Fuzzknuckles, he was deaf and she'd treated him like a first-rate bitch for absolutely no reason.

<I can hear fine,> he added. <Damaged vocal cords make it impossible to speak. I rely on these. You caught me during a workout and I'd left them upstairs.> He raised his hands and wiggled his fingers, emphasising his gloves.

Gloves that he'd likely been rushing to get when she'd thought he'd shut the door in her face to get rid of her.

<My brother helped me design these. Custom ASL gloves to track hand movement and facial expression.> He touched the piercings in his lip, brow and cheek. <Helps lower the disability barriers so I can communicate with the general public.>

"Well, then let me apologize for being making a complete and utter ass out of myself the other day."

<It's not the first time.> He waved her apology aside with a smile. <And you were right to be angry. Genie sleeps like the dead and doesn't mind the loud music. If I'd known someone else moved in next door, I would've been more respectful.>

Priya cleared her throat, and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her head. Suddenly hot under the collar of her blouse, she wanted to tug off the bowtie and let her skin breathe. "Well, I appreciated the gesture. And wanted to acknowledge it with a thank you."

<My name is Jason.>

"Priyanka—Priya," she answered. "Pleased to meet you."

Angling his head, he smiled gently. <Are you hungry?>

Famished, she wanted to say.

<I own a food truck and am testing new menu items for next week. Could use an honest opinion.> His teeth grazed his bottom lip. A daring little bite across the temping fullness and the hunger inside her belly shifted to something else entirely.

Oh, hello, Whoremones. So nice to see you again. 

"No. I can't. I shouldn't—I mean home. I have to go home. Work. Law stuff." Fucking articulate yourself, moron!

Jason lifted his hand and with a quick circle and flick of his fingers. <Okay.>

"Okay," she echoed, and swallowed hard as he stepped forward, entering her space. A wall of muscle and heat and power while his gold eyes—dark, wicked and compelling—held her in place. Almost as firmly as the grip of his hand, reaching around and behind her, twisting the knob.

He opened the door and the movement jostled her forward so that she bumped against him. Deliberately done, judging the laughter she saw dancing in his eyes.

A ploy to tease and unsettle her further. A test.

One she was failing, miserably.

"Excuse me," Priya murmured. Side-stepping out of the way, she vanished with a flustered wave and goodbye, racing down the steps and didn't stop until she was tucked away inside.

Heart racing, smile wide, Priya shut her door, locked it, and promptly slid into a puddle of laughter and lust on the floor. 

**AN**

GAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH I couldn't wait to get to this scene. Hallllooooooo neighbor!! Jason was one of the first characters to pop into my head when I knew I wanted to write SS Bk2 and this was the scene he appeared in. All rugged and sexy but what shocked me was he was mute. I'd never written a hero with this kind of a disability before and I was immediately intrigued. How would this affect the dynamic of chemistry? What kind of obstacles does this create? One thing I was always so adamant about with writing STILETTO SISTERHOOD was inclusive and diverse rep, so having a disabled hero was such a profoundly important step for me. Someone who isn't status quo but functioning and living his best life - to show that heroes can come in many packages and shouldn't be overlooked or ignored. 

CAN'T WAIT for you guys to get to know him better. *heart eyes* 

Also you might have noticed that this chapter header is a nod to when Priya first comes face to face with Hadrian aka Mr. Panty-Thief. A bit of playful foreshadowing of the kind of sheet scorching chemistry I think you can expect for these two. 

Know anyone who might want to get to know Jason? Tag them below with 'you're welcome' LOL