Page 11 of Crossing Lines

She answers on the second ring.

“Why didn’t you tell me that Evren was moving in?” I ask, turning my back to him.

“Did you not get my voicemail last night?”

“Who not only leaves a voicemail these days but expects someone to listen to it?”

She chuckles and then asks, “Am I on speakerphone?”

“No.”

“Listen, I’m sorry you didn’t get the message beforehand, but I wanted to help him. He’s been so kind to Elodie and her new business, and he’s kept our switch a secret even after figuring it out. I feel like offering him a place to live is the least I can do while his house undergoes repairs. He’s alone in Skyrise and I didn’t want him to have to go through the hassle of finding a new place to live when I have an empty house in the city. Apparently, he despises hotels and doesn’t have a team ofassistants working for him. So, he does everything himself.”

“Fine,” I grit out, hating that she’s right. Evren has been exceptionally kind to Elodie and supportive of her dreams which is the only thing holding me back from making more of a fuss about this. If Stella wants him here, I can’t go against her. My only options are to accept it or to move, but I don’t have any money saved to stay somewhere on my own.

“Please be nice to him,” she says. “It’s only temporary.”

“When am I ever not nice?” I ask.

Stella laughs and laughs and laughs some more for good measure. “I’ve got to run. Talk later.”

After she hangs up, I spin to face Evren. Evren who’s staring at me with his usual serious, intense expression.

“And?” he asks.

“She confirmed your story,” I snap. “I hope you’re ready for a taste of what us regular people experience all the time. Those sheets you’re going to be sleeping on are as scratchy as they come.”

It’s a blatant lie; the sheets are top-of-the-line and cost me a pretty penny. Spending that much on something so frivolous was anxiety inducing, but I did it for Stella.

I storm out of the kitchen toward the pool house, desperate to avoid his infuriatingly handsome face for a single second longer. Pacing the room, I don’t even knowwhat’s going on or what I’m feeling but restlessness surges through me, demanding an escape.

As I make another pass, I glance out the floor-to-ceiling windows of the pool house and catch Evren staring at me. He’s leaning against the kitchen doorframe, casually watching me.

He’s eating something from a bowl. Cereal maybe? I squint and spot the red box on the counter, as if he propped it up just for me to see.

Wait. He’s eatingmycereal.

Mere minutes as my roommate and he’s already raiding the kitchen? Is this his way of establishing his presence in the house? Or is he just trying to piss me off?

Either way, two can play that game.

I tip an invisible hat toward him, acknowledging his win this round. And yes, it’s a game, and yes there will be rounds. I’m going to get him back for this.

But first, I need a barrier between us that I can control since I haven’t gotten around to making curtains for the pool house yet. Dragging my sewing machine onto the table, I pull out a bolt of the thickest, heaviest, least see-through fabric I have. It just so happens to be red velvet. Not my first choice for curtains, but it’ll do. It’s not like they have to be pretty.

I’ve never sewn faster in my life, as if every bite of my cereal he consumes spurs me on. By the time I finish, I’m almost disappointed he’s still not by the window, watching me. Oh well. I hang the curtains and draw them closed.

I pace the room,plotting my revenge against the cereal-stealing fiend. But Evren is a closed book.He’s a stoic, forty-four-year-old billionaire, and that’s about all I know. And that’s not much to work with.

A splash in the pool interrupts my train of thought.

I glance at the clock. Who swims at eleven p.m.?

Creeping toward my new curtains, I open them a sliver, just enough to see out of. The pool lights illuminate him cutting through the water like a knife, each stroke powerful and precise. His back muscles and biceps are far too sculpted, far too tempting for someone his age.

I jerk back from the window. Wait, no. I shouldn’t be ogling him. I need to continue with my revenge plan, or at least do something, anything, except watch him.

I know this, and yet… I can’t seem to stop myself from peeking through the curtains again. It’s far too easy to rationalize that I need to learn his schedule so that I can find ways to mess with him. Yeah,that’swhy I need to watch him swim.For the schedule.

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