Chapter 1

Audrey

I 'm going to be late for work, and it's making me anxious.

This meeting was supposed to have happened over an hour ago, and while I do understand that Mr. Winchester is a busy man, he's the one who insisted on dealing with The Emerald residents' issues personally from the moment he acquired the hedge fund that owns my apartment building.

My heel taps nervously on the beige marble floor as I remain seated in the waiting area just outside Mr. Winchester's office. His secretary appears stressed and abrasive toward anyone or anything that dares to interrupt her workflow as she taps away at the computer, so I've kept my interactions with her to a minimum.

As a kindergarten teacher, I've learned to pay attention to the details in human body language. From kids to adults, we're all the same. Nervous tics. Fleeting glances. Flaring nostrils. The changes in one's breathing pattern.

There are many ways in which our own bodies betray us, and I can tell that this lady is under a lot of pressure.

Her ginger hair is combed to perfection and pulled back into an elegant bun; her makeup is done in flawless nudes. She is wearing a sandy beige dress. Gold-plated bracelets jingle with each motion of her wrists. I'm quietly hypnotized by her long and nimble fingers, the red nail polish glistening under the soft reception lights, wondering when I'll get a chance to paint my own nails. My students keep me so busy, and we often get our hands dirty with our daily activities that it feels like a waste of time and a waste of pricey nail polish at this point. I'm so busy watching the secretary's fingers, in fact, that I don't even notice the person coming out of Mr. Winchester's office.

"Thank you," the elderly gentleman in a grey suit says to the man inside. "I'll be in touch with the next quarter's reports, Jason."

"Take care of yourself," Mr. Winchester replies from his office.

I can't see him from where I'm sitting, and I don't register that it's my turn to go in until the secretary's fingers stop tapping, and I realize that she's watching me with a mixture of curiosity and irritation.

"Oh, it's my turn," I say, half-smiling and with a flat tone, seeing as I've been waiting for quite a while. I don't plan on letting that slide, either. Everybody's time is valuable, not just Jason Winchester's.

"Yes," the secretary nods. "Mr. Winchester will see you now."

"Thanks," I shoot back and confidently strut into his office.

I find myself grinding to a halt in front of his desk, feeling like a lost deer in the middle of the freeway. I feel the secretary's gaze drilling holes in the back of my head before the door closes behind me. I ignore it, though, because I've got enough to deal with right in front of me—Jason Winchester looks nothing like what I expected.

Even seated behind his desk, I can tell he is tall and massively built beneath his dark blue suit, which is tailored to flatter his broad shoulders and muscular arms.

His hazel eyes are bright, and his gaze is penetrating enough to make me feel naked and helpless. His silky, dark brown hair is on the short side but expertly styled. My fingertips tingle at the prospect of feeling his greying stubble along his chiseled jaw.

Jason Winchester is in his mid-forties and devastatingly handsome, with an authoritarian presence that dominates the entire room and makes my throat go dry as I suddenly realize I've been staring at him for quite a while as he watches me with a brow lifted in curiosity.

"Miss Smith, I presume?" he asks.

"Please, call me Audrey," I instantly reply.

"Only if you'll call me Jason," he says.

"Jason." I echo. The name rolls off my tongue smoothly.

What is it about this man that ignites my senses ? I wonder.

I'm so shaken that I'm having trouble remembering why I came here in the first place. Finally, I come to my senses and speak: "Thank you for taking the time to see me, although I have to mention that this meeting was scheduled for an hour ago."

Jason's lips stretch into a subtle smile—something akin to a tiger in a jungle, salivating over its prey. "I do apologize for the delay. Ever since I took over The Emerald complex, my company has had to make some logistical and administrative shifts to make sure we're handling everything better than the previous owners."

"Nevertheless, to keep a person waiting an hour is bordering on disrespectful," I reply, allowing Audrey the Assertive to surface, although I have no idea where she's coming from—his heavy gaze causing the knot in my stomach to tighten. "I have enough experience dealing with The Emerald to deserve better from its owner, former or current."

"All right then, please, have a seat. I'm listening."

But nothing in his tone of voice changes. It's still as cold and hard as his gaze as he scans me from head to toe, showing no sympathy for the fact that it's a wintery hell outside and I had to make my way over here by subway in this freezing weather.

"Here's the deal, Jason. I don't care who bought the complex, who's in charge now, or what your reasons are for keeping me waiting. What I do care about is that for the past couple of months, we've not had enough heat or hot water," I tell him, my tone clipped with frustration. "I'm damn tired of taking cold showers. I pay a lot of money for an upscale apartment in the heart of old Chicago. The Emerald is supposed to be a premium complex, yet I'm freezing my ass off on a daily basis. It's mid-winter in Chicago!"

"I see."

"I've complained repeatedly and have spoken to everyone in the administrative office. I also emailed anyone else I could find who might be able to help, and I am aware other homeowners in the complex have as well since I'm not the only one dealing with this problem."

"And?" He leans back in his chair, apparently listening to me, though I get the feeling he doesn't really care or he's just judging my reaction to his indifference. I'm not sure. Either way, it's annoying as hell.

"And? And they've been giving me the runaround and nothing else. When did your company buy the complex? Three weeks ago? Four? Six? I've lost track because I've been too cold to think of anything else. This situation is unacceptable. All I am being told is, ‘Sorry, Miss Smith, we'll send somebody to check it out.' And so they send the building's maintenance guy who then tells me it's a supplier issue. When I call the supplier, they tell me it's a building issue. And so on and so forth. In the meantime, it's the middle of January, and I'm still freezing my ass off."

He nods a couple of times. "Anything else?"

His arrogance and apathetic tone are pushing my buttons. But I'm already amped up, so I keep going, listing every issue I've ever had with the building and the previous owners. Apparently, I've got a lot of negative energy stored up, which is ironic since, as a kindergarten teacher, I'm supposed to be the cool and levelheaded one by nature. Nonetheless, I unleash it all on this man.

I came in prepared to deal with a rich and entitled prick who had no idea how to handle the property he bought, yet I'm the one on the verge of losing my shit while he sits there, dangerously good-looking and infuriatingly composed, watching me.

By the time I'm done, I'm out of breath. "I apologize for the deluge," I say. "But since you insisted on having one-on-one meetings with Emerald residents, I figured you'd want to hear what I had to say."

"I expect nothing less," Jason says.

It's amazing how intimidating a man can be without saying a word. Jason Winchester has barely spoken yet, beneath my winter coat, I am shivering and simmering at the same time.

Every time our eyes meet, I get a jolt somewhere inside my chest, and I feel the heat spreading downward.

After what feels like the world's longest pause, he says, "I'll tell you what. I'll give you a complimentary stay at one of my penthouses in Lake View while we sort out the heating issue in the building."

"What?" I ask, not sure I heard him correctly. "Are you kidding?"

He doesn't seem fazed, only amused. "No, I'm not. I agree with you. It's inhumane to have you staying in a place with no heat and barely any hot water in the middle of a Chicago winter."

"Well. I can't possibly stay in a stranger's home, and Lake View is too far from my work. That is not a viable option."

"Audrey, rather Miss Smith," he begins, and I notice a slight change in his tone. "Whatever the issue is with The Emerald Residence, it won't be resolved overnight. Besides, I now have to replace the entire building staff over there since they clearly haven't been doing their jobs."

"Hold on," I say, my blood suddenly running cold. "That's a lot of people, and at least half of them are good folks. They work hard, and they have families to support. You can't do that."

"Well, you can't have it both ways now, can you?" he asks, smirking. "What's it going to be, Miss Smith? You came to me with a problem; I have offered the only solution I have available for you at this time. My penthouses are momentarily unoccupied, and I don't mind letting you stay there while your place gets fixed. But I still have to do something about the building management, either way. No matter how you look at it, someone is going to lose. Would you rather it be you? Again?"

I think of Sammy, who manages the janitorial team; Rosa, who handles the day-to-day logistics; and Manny, who has been nothing but kind and patient with me when his own bosses had him telling me to call this number or that number. They don't deserve to lose their jobs because the building owners are absolute crap. He's talking about firing the wrong people, and it's completely unfair.

I shoot up from my seat. "It's not fair," I snap, my anger getting the better of me. "It's not ethical. And it's not what I came here for, Mr. Winchester. I expect my heating problem to be fixed within the next forty-eight hours, or I will have no choice but to let my lawyer handle it from there!"

Little does he know I can't afford a lawyer since every penny I have is tied up in my apartment, and my kindergarten teacher's salary won't even cover a single consultation with an attorney.

He says nothing, which makes me feel helpless and vulnerable, but his cool gaze tells me he got the message.

"Thanks for nothing," I mutter as I stand up and turn to leave.

"Hold on, Miss Smith."

I turn around just in time to see him get up and offer me a business card. "What's that?" I stupidly ask.

"I think you'll need it."

He walks over and hands it to me. Our fingers touch for the briefest of seconds, and it's enough to make my vision temporarily hazy as I stare at the card. "We'll see about that," I scoff.

He's confident and somewhat cocky, but I try to leave with my head held high.

However, by the time I reach the elevator, I'm trembling like a leaf in the wind, and not because of the cold. I've been rattled to the core by this man, and I have no idea why. It's as if my own brain and body have turned against me.

I was supposed to keep my cool at all costs. How did I go off the rails so quickly? How did I practically throw a tantrum in front of one of the most attractive, not to mention seductive, men I've ever encountered?