Sirah

I stared at Winthorpe Industries' website page. Saul worked eight floors above me—a global management consulting firm that had a recent merger with Decoseers International. The Winthorpe twins were billionaires who had moved into my building four years ago. I’d never seen either of them once.

“Oh, double trouble. Who are these hotties?”

I quickly minimised the screen that displayed Seth and Saul’s cheesy picture before I faced Beth. Although I couldn’t deny that they did look like they should be half naked, oiled up, and on a calendar for women with a twin fetish.

“They’re both married,” I blurted out, not liking the idea of women ogling them like they were fine pieces of meat.

“Shame. Why are all the good ones taken?” she sighed before she rolled her chair away.

It was a half lie. Seth was married, but Saul was single. They were thirty-six years old, and their father had started their company. I guess billionaires were normal people, after all. I never once got the vibe that Saul was conceited, as many affluent people were prone to do so.

It seemed bizarre that I lived and worked beside a billionaire. My cheeks heated up as I recalled how protective he had been as we huddled together on the Tube this morning. It was kind of sweet or creepy, and I couldn't decide which was more appropriate.

I opened up my drawer for the leaflets on the new property fund that I would pitch as part of a pension package later. I could finish my Google search on Saul ’ s ass when I was on my lunch break. There were too many eyes in my office.

∞∞∞

I was disappointed when I got home to see Saul’s Christmas lights twinkling away, but the lights in the house were all switched off. I climbed up my black metal stairs only to see the mistletoe dangling between our properties. I recalled his words from this morning.

A man can dream .

The stems of the mistletoe had a red ribbon wrapped around it. I reached up to see if it was fresh or plastic, but when I touched the cool leaves, I could tell it was fresh. At this point, I would need to set up a spreadsheet to capture a sweet or creepy point system for Saul.

“Good evening.”

I screeched and grabbed onto the railing. He caught me red-handed, touching up his mistletoe.

“Oh shit,” he said as he rushed toward me. “I didn't mean to startle you.”

“Sorry, I was just checking if it was plastic or not,” I mumbled but couldn't quite meet his eyes.

“You can touch my mistletoe anytime you want,” he said, making me glance at him. He was at eye level with me because he was on my stairs.

“Saul, I've just got divorced. I ’ m not interested in anything at the moment. It was rough,” I said quietly.

“I’m sure you are better and stronger for it,” he said solemnly.

I smiled wryly. “It doesn't feel that way.”

“You have three weeks to make good use of my mistletoe,” he said with a mischievous grin.

“Keep dreaming,” I said with a chuckle as he began to back down the stairs.

“I have incredibly vivid dreams. I’m taking the car in tomorrow. Can I give you a ride to work?” he said when he reached the bottom of the stairs.

I frowned at the potential consequences. “I don't want to be a hassle to you,” I said. He would still be my neighbour if our friendship didn't work out.

“Not at all. We work in the same building,” he said. “Be ready for 7:50 am.”

I was about to protest, but he was already walking away.

“Fine, goodnight,” I said loud enough for him to hear me as I walked toward my door with a smile.

It felt nice flirting with him. After being downtrodden over the divorce, Saul was working wonders for my self-esteem, but I couldn’t allow myself to get used to it.

∞∞∞

“Oh my,” I whispered as I flicked through Saul’s Instagram pictures. I could see why he had such a large following. He probably stuffed a sock down his trousers because that couldn’t be his actual dick size. I zoomed in to check the shape when I accidentally hit the like icon.

“No, no, no, no,” I mumbled as I immediately dropped my phone on the bed and scrambled to unlike it.

There was no way that I could have created a notification that fast. I winced when I saw a direct message notification. My settings were private, and my finger hovered over the accept or block button.

Saul: Are you s talking me?

Me: I needed more information before I got in a car with a strange man .

Saul: Almost all of London knows me. You're safe with me .

Me: I can tell from your posts .

Saul: Didn’t you just like my picture?

Me: My finger slipped .

Saul: Into…?

Cheeky git . This was going into the creepy section of my spreadsheet.

Me: *Onto

Saul: You can ask me anything you want if it makes you feel safer .

Me: I feel safe on the Tube. Why do you have so many raunchy pictures on here?

Saul: These are all old pictures. I stopped posting all this kind of stuff in the summer .

Me: Why?

He was right. There wasn't a single picture of him posing after July.

Saul: It was time to grow up .

I paused momentarily because that seemed like an honest answer, but what did I know? My ex-husband had three other women in his life, and I remained clueless.

Me: It comes to us all. Goodnight .

I sighed and turned my phone on silent. My trust issues were here to stay, but I didn't need another womaniser in my life. It was too late to back out of the lift, but I would need to keep a distance from him.