CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER SEVEN

LENA

Ava’s birthday marked a shift in my luck. After a rough few weeks, everything seemed to fall into place. I wasn’t going to question it—good things rarely lasted, so I planned to enjoy every bit of it.

One of those good things was my apartment search, which might actually come through thanks to Rhys.

The weekend after Ava’s party, I found myself in the lobby of The Mirage, the luxury building owned by Rhys’s friend. Rhys had arranged a coveted showing for me and Stella, and I arrived early, not just because D.C.'s metro was unreliable but also because I had an interview with the Legal Health Alliance Clinic (LHAC) to take.

I’d been offered a job at Silver & Klein last summer, but I couldn’t start until I passed the bar. Most firms let grads start early, but Silver & Klein didn’t. I needed something short-term until my results came in. The research associate role at LHAC, where doctors and lawyers teamed up to serve underserved communities, was perfect.

"That’s all the questions I have," I said after the clinic's legal director, Lisa, finished explaining the job. I sank into the lobby's velvet couch, relieved the space was quiet except for the receptionist. I didn’t want to be one of those people taking business calls in public. "Thank you for your time."

"Of course," Lisa said warmly. "You’re the best candidate I’ve spoken to. Great experience and grades. I think you’ll fit in well here." She paused, then added, "I don’t usually do this right after an interview, but I’d like to unofficially offer you the job. I’ll send an official email later for you to think over—"

"I accept!" My eagerness made my cheeks flush, but getting the job would be such a relief. It would free me up to focus on bar prep.

Lisa laughed. "Great! Can you start Monday at eight?"

"Absolutely." I had all week free except for Tuesday and Thursday classes. "Perfect. I’ll send over the details later. I look forward to working with you, Lena."

"I’m excited to work with you too." I hung up, grinning, barely able to hold back a dance in the lobby.

Maybe Ava’s birthday party magic was real. I'd never had this much good luck.

Or maybe the universe was making up for the awkwardness with the bartender after the party. He’d called me JR and compared me to Jessica Rabbit. I’d almost thrown my drink in his face.

I was sure Ethan had something to do with it. He probably told the bartender some nonsense about me liking to be called JR.

What an asshole.

But no. I wouldn't let thoughts of Ethan ruin what had otherwise been an incredible week.

I took a deep breath and tried to return to my happy place when I heard the guy manning the front desk make a strangled noise.

I lifted my head in time to see Stella rush through the revolving doors.

"Sorry, I got held up at work and left as soon as I could," she said breathlessly, oblivious to the way the receptionist was ogling her. Her legs were so long it only took her a few strides to reach me. "Am I late?"

"Nope. The leasing director hasn't-"

I didn't finish my sentence before a well-groomed woman in a sleek gray suit approached us, her expression as brisk as her stride.

"Ms. carter, Ms. Alonso. I'm Pam, the Director of Leasing for The Mirage."

"Nice to meet you, Pam," I drawled, amused by how she spoke like she was the director of the NSA instead of an apartment building. That was a feature in D.C., not a bug. Everyone pretended they were more important than they actually were, which wasn't surprising in a city where the first question someone asked after meeting you was always, What do you do?

The town was full of career climbers, and I wasn’t ashamed to be one of them. A successful career meant money, and money meant security. If someone wanted to shame me for wanting those things, they could screw off.

I flinched when Stella jabbed me with her elbow.

"Keep your elbows to yourself," I whispered.

"Don't mess this up," she whispered back.

"I just said nice to meet you."

"It’s your tone," she said, glaring at me as we followed Pam to the elevator.

"My tone is impeccable," I replied, placing a hand on my chest.

Stella sighed, and I stifled a grin. She was usually calm, but lately, she’d been stressed. Her always-spotless house was proof enough. Her boss at D.C. Style was a nightmare, like a real-life Miranda Priestly.

As we rode the elevator to the tenth floor, Pam rambled on about the building’s amenities—rooftop lounge, pool, gym, and 24/7 concierge. The more she talked, the more anxious I became. The Mirage’s website didn’t list rent prices, but I was sure it was expensive. Rhys said his friend would give us a discount, but didn’t say how much.

God, I really hoped we could afford it. I’d kill for a rooftop pool, though I wasn’t too interested in the gym. The only workouts I liked were the ones in bed, and law school had definitely put a damper on that.

We stopped in front of a dark wood door with "1022" inscribed in gold.

"Here we are, the last available unit at The Mirage," Pam said, proudly opening the door. Stella and I gasped in unison.

Oh. My. God.

It was like someone took my dream apartment and made it real. Floor-to-ceiling windows, a balcony, gleaming floors, a brand-new kitchen with marble counters, and a cooking island. I didn’t cook, but that island would make food deliveries—er, home-cooked meals—look amazing.

"Gorgeous, right?" Pam beamed, like she was showing off a prize-winning poodle.

I nodded, possibly drooling.

Then Pam showed us the bedrooms, and I was definitely drooling. Walk-in closets. Small, but still.

A strangled noise slipped from Stella’s throat. As a fashion blogger, she had more clothes than anyone should, and I could already see her mentally organizing them.

For Stella, a walk-in closet was third on her list of dreams, right after a collaboration with Delamonte and an extended trip through Italy. I wasn’t kidding. She had a list pinned to her bedroom bulletin board.

"The apartment is okay." I attempted to sound as casual as possible. "How much is the rent again?"

Pam told us, and I almost choked on my spit. Even Stella flinched at the number.

Seventy-five hundred dollars. Per month. Not including utilities.

That wasn't rent. That was highway robbery.

"Oh," Stella said faintly. "Um, I think our friend mentioned we were eligible for a special discount. How much is rent then?"

Pam arched one penciled-in brow, her smile wilting. "That is the price of rent with the discount, dear." Condescension dripped from the last word, and Stella flinched again.

I placed a protective hand on her arm and glared at Pam. Who did she think she was? She had no right to look down on us. Just because we weren't obscenely rich didn't mean we were any less than the residents at The Mirage.

"She is not your dear," I said coldly. "And how is it legal to charge that much for one apartment?"

Pam's nostrils flared. She drew herself up to her full height, her voice quivering with outrage. "Ms. carter, I assure you, everything we do here at The Mirage is aboveboard. If the pricing is outside your budget, might I suggest you look somewhere more-"

"Is everything all right, Pam?" A smooth, deep voice sliced through the air like a freshly sharpened knife.

"Mr. Harper." Pam's patronizing tone disappeared with the suddenness of a blown-out candle flame. Breathless deference replaced it. "I thought you were in New York."

I turned, curious to see who had the snobby leasing director so worked up, and the air whooshed out of my lungs in one strong gust.

Holy mother of God.

Thick, wavy, dark brown hair. Cheekbones that could chisel ice. Eyes the color of whiskey and broad shoulders that filled out his expensive Italian wool suit like it was custom-made for him, which it probably was. Everything about him screamed wealth and power, and his sex appeal was so potent I could practically taste it.

I'd met my fair share of good-looking guys, but the man before me...wow.

"My business in the city wrapped up earlier than expected." The godlike man smiled at me. "Christian Harper. Owner of The Mirage."

Harper: Why did that name sound so familiar?

"Lena Carter. Future owner of a penthouse at The Mirage," I quipped.

After I became a partner at Silver & Klein, that is. It will happen. Stella was the woo-woo one with her crystals and horoscopes, but I low-key believed in manifestation as long as I mixed it with a healthy dose of hard work. It'd gotten me out of Ohio and into Thayer Law after all.

Amusement glowed in Christian's eyes. "Nice to meet you, Lena. I expect you'll be buying the penthouse from me sometime in the future then."

My eyebrows rose. So he actually lived at The Mirage. I'd expected him to reign over a mansion in the suburbs, but on second glance, Christian Harper did not look like a man who would live in the suburbs. He screamed city vibes through and through.

Black coffee. Expensive watches. Fast cars.

Christian turned to Stella. His face remained relaxed, but something flared in his eyes, hot and bright enough to drown out his earlier amusement.

He held out his hand. After a brief hesitation, she took it.

"I'm Stella."

"Stella," he repeated, softly and slowly, like he was savoring the syllables. He didn't move an inch, but the intensity of his stare was so strong it pulsed in the air. Time seemed to slow, and I wondered if that was a superpower of the rich-manipulating reality until it bent to their will.

A pink flush rose on Stella's cheeks. She opened her mouth, then closed it and glanced down at where his hand still gripped hers.

Another long second stretched by before Christian released her hand and stepped back with an indecipherable expression etched on his perfect features.

The movement pressed play on the scene, and time returned to normal. Pam stirred, the faint honks of cars ten floors below filtered through the glass windows, and my breath rushed out in an exhale.

Christian's gaze lingered on an uncharacteristically wary-looking Stella for a fraction of a second longer before he shifted his attention back to me.

The intensity disappeared, replaced with a portrait of easy charm and hospitality once again.

"How do you like the apartment?" he asked.

"It's beautiful but out of our budget," I admitted. "We appreciate you setting up this tour for us though. Thank you."

"Well." Pam cleared her throat. "Mr. Harper, I can take it from here. I'm sure you have plenty of-"

"What's your budget?" Christian asked, ignoring his leasing director completely.

Stella and I exchanged glances before I responded.

"Twenty-five hundred a month. Total." I was almost embarrassed to say it out loud. It was a pathetic fraction of the regular rent.

I'd expected Christian to laugh in our faces and throw us out. Instead, he rubbed a thumb over his bottom lip, his expression speculative.

Silence descended again, but this time it was filled with breathless anticipation-mostly mine, though a glimmer of hope shone in Stella's eyes as well.

I tried to tamp down my expectations. There was no way he'd agree to that price. Christian was a businessman, and businessmen did not-

"Done," he said.

Pam's mouth fell open in shock.

I hated to admit it, but my face likely matched hers.

"Excuse me?"

There was a difference between not looking a gift horse in the mouth and questioning something that was completely insane.

Sure, Christian was friends with Rhys and Rhys was future royalty, so it didn't hurt to be in his good graces, but we weren't Rhys's family or anything. The Mirage would be taking a huge financial hit if Christian rented the apartment to us for such a low price.

Or maybe it wouldn't. I didn't know. There was a reason I studied law and not business or economics.

"Twenty-five hundred a month. Done," Christian said as casually as if he were buying a Starbucks coffee. "Pam, draw up the papers."

A vein pulsed in her temple. "Mr. Harper, I think we need to discuss-"

Those whiskey eyes sharpened and lanced into her.

Pam fell silent, though her expression remained mutinous.

"I'll wait here." A razored edge ran beneath Christian's otherwise genial tone.

Another warning, this one less subtle.

"Of course." Pam's mouth stretched into a forced smile.

"I'll be right back."

I waited until she left before I crossed my arms over my chest and narrowed my eyes at Christian. "What's the catch?"

He straightened his suit sleeve. "Elaborate."

"Twenty-five hundred a month would barely cover the utilities, much less the rent. I know we're friends of a friend and all, but it doesn't make financial sense."

If something seemed to good to be true, it probably was.

There had to be a catch.

The corner of Christian's mouth tugged up. "Unless you install an indoor water park and keep it running twenty-four-seven, I doubt your utilities will cost that much each

month. And there is no catch. Rhys is an old friend, and I owe him a favor."

"How do you know him?" Stella asked.

Christian paused, that indecipherable expression flickering across his face again before he responded with a smooth, "We used to work together."

Suddenly, it clicked.

"Harper Security," I said, naming the elite private security firm Rhys worked for when he was Bridget's bodyguard. "You're the CEO."

"At your service," he drawled.

"I hope not." Any situation that required me or Stella to get a bodyguard wouldn't be a good one. "So, there's really no catch?"

"No. My only stipulation is you sign today. I doubt members of The Mirage's waiting list would be happy I let you skip the line, and I can't guarantee this offer will be available if you wait until tomorrow or even tonight."

Stella and I exchanged another glance. I hated rushing into things, but this was our dream apartment.

What if Christian did change his mind later? I would never forgive myself for letting the opportunity slip through my fingers.

Pam returned with the papers, her face screwed into a sour frown.

Too bad. If she had a problem with what was happening, she could take it up with her boss, though I doubted she would. Christian did not look like the type who tolerated insubordination.

"Here." She practically shoved the papers into my hand.

"Thank you, Pam." I bestowed her with a gracious smile. "I'm so excited we're going to be your tenants." I paused.

"Sorry, I mean Christian's tenants. Her mouth tightened further, but she was smart enough not to respond.

Half an hour later, after Stella and I painstakingly reviewed every line of the lease, searching for red flag phrases like tenants must provide sexual services to the building's owner every month to make up for their ridiculously cheap rent and finding none, we signed on the dotted line.

Pam signed after us, and it was done.

We were officially tenants of The Mirage, effective in five weeks.

Unreal.

"I'm glad we could make it work." A half-smile touched Christian's mouth. "I have a meeting I'm running late for, so I'll leave you in Pam's capable hands. I'm sure I'll see you both around." He slid a brief glance in Stella's direction before leaving.

After his tall, lean frame disappeared into the hall, Pam released a sharp sigh. "Congratulations," she said tightly. "You just secured one of the city's most coveted apartments for pennies."

"Lady Luck has always smiled on me." It wasn't true, but it was worth seeing her eye twitch.

We exited the apartment and rode the elevator down to the lobby in silence. Once we hit the ground floor, Pam left us with the world's most tepid goodbye, but I didn't care.

"We did it!" I waited until Stella and I stepped outside The Mirage before I threw my arms around her in an impromptu hug. I couldn't hold back my giddiness anymore. Between the lease and LHAC, today was the best day ever. Period.

"We got our dream apartment!" I sighed, starry-eyed at the possibilities.

Late night drinks on the rooftop. Morning swims in the pool. Diving into a pile of clothes in my walk-in closet just because I could..

"Pinch me," I said. "I think I'm dream-ow!"

"You said to pinch you," Stella said innocently. She broke into a laugh and dodged my playful attempt to swat her. "Seriously, though, I'm so happy it worked out, but..."

"But?"

"You don't think it was too easy? The way he just agreed to our price?" Her bottom lip disappeared between her teeth while a small crease formed between her brows.

"It was too easy," I admitted. "But we both looked over the lease twice. There was nothing out of the ordinary. Maybe Christian was just being nice because we're Rhys's friends."

"Maybe." Doubt lingered in Stella's eyes.

"We'll be fine." I linked my arm through hers and guided her to the Crumble & Bake a few streets over for celebratory cupcakes. "And if we aren't, I happen to know plenty of lawyers."