Twisted Hate (Twisted 3)

“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.