Chapter 2

I stared at him, searching that impossibly handsome face for any hint he was joking.

There was none. His gaze was steady, his tone serious, as if this was the most natural thing in the world.

I deflated like a popped balloon, all my fight gone.

Arguing with a cheapskate who operated on a frequency I'd never understand? Clearly, I was the crazy one here.

I took a deep breath, gave up resisting, and dragged my tired self into his place.

All my belongings sat in neat piles in the corner of his living room, stacked like evidence at a crime scene.

My eyes drifted over the familiar clutter until they landed on a pink box.

The lid wasn't fully closed. A hint of lace trim poked through the gap.

That was my underwear.

Heat flooded my face so fast I felt dizzy.

This devil. He'd actually had the movers transport my underwear.

I practically lunged for the box, fumbling to slam the lid shut, then clutched it to my chest like it contained nuclear codes, shooting daggers at Eric.

Eric stared back, confusion written all over his annoyingly perfect face, like he genuinely couldn't fathom why I was losing it.

"What's wrong? I didn't touch anything in that box. The movers brought it over."

Nice try, Eric. My cheeks could have fried an egg.

Just when I thought I might actually die of embarrassment, Eric emerged from his study with a sheet of paper and handed it over. "Here. Sign this."

I glanced down, and my eyes nearly popped out of my head. "A roommate agreement?"

At the very top, bold capital letters burned into my retinas like a brand.

I skimmed the terms, my shock and fury mounting with every line.

[Rule 1: Eric Grant is the landlord. Laura Linwood is the tenant.]

[Rule 2: Laura must keep all shared spaces spotless. Any item left out incurs a seven-dollar fine. Per occurrence.]

[Rule 3: Showers not to exceed fifteen minutes. Each additional minute costs three dollars. No cap.]

[Rule 4: No hair dryers or high-wattage appliances after 10 PM. Violation: fifteen-dollar fine.]

[Rule 5: Laura...]

I couldn't take it anymore. This wasn't an agreement. It was a hostage situation disguised as a contract.

"Eric, have you lost your mind? Fifteen dollars for blowing my hair dry after ten? Why don't you mug me and get it over with?"

My voice could have shattered glass.

Eric didn't even blink. He explained slowly, as if I were a child struggling with basic concepts. "Time is money.

"Every extra minute of hot water burns gas and water. That adds up.

"And when you hog the bathroom, it disrupts my schedule. My time has value too."

I opened my mouth. For once, nothing came out.

Time was money. Now I'd seen what it looked like when stinginess was literally coded into someone's DNA.

"I'm not signing this." I slapped the paper against his chest. "I'll find a new place tomorrow. Keep your vulture rules for yourself."

Eric didn't flinch. Instead, he gave me that smug "I knew you'd say that" look.

He folded his arms, completely relaxed, and played his trump card. "Fine. Move out right now.

"According to your lease, early termination means you owe three months' rent as a penalty. That's 3,335 dollars.

"Plus, you still owe this month's rent, 1,267 dollars. Add the moving fees and emotional compensation I calculated, and your total comes to over five thousand dollars."

He paused, flashing me a devilish grin. "Cash or transfer?"

I stared at him, feeling like a rabbit cornered by a hunter who'd already lined up the shot.

He had me completely cornered.

My bank account was so pathetic that it couldn't even cover a fraction of that penalty.

This month, I'd scraped by and still sent money home to Mom.

I was a wage slave, life squeezing the breath out of me, and Eric held the rope.

After a long, heavy silence, I forced the words out. "Got a pen?"

Eric's smile went supernova. He grabbed a pen from the holder and handed it over, practically glowing.

I took it. It felt impossibly heavy in my hand.

I scrawled my name.

The pen scratched across the paper. The sound was my shattered pride gasping its last breath.

When I finished, I shoved the pen and agreement back at him, then walked to the room he'd assigned me.

It was the most pathetic surrender of my life.