Page 19 of Stuck with the Billionaire Celebrity

It’s as if every little thing I do annoys him. I don’t understand how someone can be so closed off, so unwilling to give even a shred of kindness.

But I suppose I’m not exactly known for being easy to get along with. I have my own walls, and I’ve had to put them up to survive in my world.

I pacethe length of the guest room, my bare feet padding silently across the plush carpet. I’ve been cooped up in this house all day now, and it’s starting to feel like a prison.

Theo’s mansion may be luxurious, but that doesn’t stop me from feeling like the walls are closing in on me. Every corner of this place feels off-limits as if I’m trespassing just by breathing the same air.

I need to get out of this room. I need to move, to feel like I have some control over my life again.

With a determined sigh, I slip on a pair of sneakers and head out into the hallway. This estate is massive; from what little I’ve seen; it's like a fortress.

Marble floors, high ceilings, and more rooms than I can count—each one meticulously curated to reflect his cold, unapproachable personality.

But there must be a gym in a place like this, right?

I wander through the house, passing grand staircases and endless hallways before finally stumbling upon what I’m looking for.

The gym is tucked away in the far corner of the mansion, and when I open the door, I’m greeted by a space that looks more like a professional training facility than a home gym.

There are weight racks lining the walls, a full array of machines, treadmills, a boxing bag in one corner, and even a mirrored wall with a barre.

Of course, Theo has a state-of-the-art gym. I shouldn’t be surprised.

For a moment, I hesitate. But then the restless energy inside me wins out, and I walk in, pulling my hair back into a ponytail as I head straight for the weights.

I’m no stranger to working out, though this equipment is on a whole other level. I grab a pair of dumbbells and start with some basic exercises to burn off the frustration and tension that’s been building inside me since I got here.

I move through squats, lunges, and deadlifts, letting the familiar burn in my muscles take over. In a way, it’s comforting to focus on something physical, something I can control.

I’ve just finished a set of overhead presses when the door to the gym swings open. I glance up in the mirror and see Theo standing there, his face a mask of surprise and annoyance.

“What are you doing?” he asks, his voice clipped.

I wipe the sweat from my forehead and set the dumbbells down, meeting his eyes in the mirror. “What does it look like?”

His eyes dart around the room, lingering on the scattered weights and the disarray I’ve left behind. He steps inside, crossing his arms over his chest. “You didn’t rack the weights.”

I raise an eyebrow, turning to face him. “I was going to.”

“You should’ve done it immediately,” he replies, his tone harsh. “It’s a safety hazard leaving them like that. You need to clean up after yourself if you’re going to usemyspace.”

Your space.

There it is again, the constant reminder that I’m an intruder in his precious little world. I don’t know what it is about this man, but every word out of his mouth rubs me the wrong way.

“I’ll clean up,” I snap, defiantly crossing my arms.

“But seriously, what am I allowed to do around here?

Every single thing seems to annoy you.

Is there some list I should be aware of, or should I just assume that breathing is off-limits, too?”

Okay, maybe I’m being a tad ridiculous, but it’s too late to scale back now.

“You’re a guest in my home, Grace. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t act like you own the place.”

“I’m not trying to own anything,” I retort. “But it’s impossible to feel comfortable here when you’re hovering over me, waiting for me to mess up.”

---