Page 35 of Neighbor from Hell
“No worries,” Annabel says, her smile kind. “Get some sleep.”
Tom and Jamie wave me off, no judgment, and I slip out, the pub’s noise fading behind me. The drive home is a blur, my eyes fighting to stay open, but I’m not sleepy—just bored, I realize. The guys were nice, but they didn’t spark anything, and they definitely didn’t pull me out of myself.
The dangerously dark road means I’m wide awake and alert by the time I turn onto my lane, only to find the road to the manor choked with cars. Ferraris, Range Rovers, a sleek limousine gleaming under the light from the manor—Hugh’s home is a magnet, pulling in wealth like moths to a flame. A strange feeling fills my chest. So, he’s thrown a party, grand and dazzling, and I wasn’t invited.
Not that I wanted to be, of course, but the sting’s there, sharp and petty.
I’d noticed the signs earlier. Servers bustling, decorations going up as I got ready, but I’d ignored it, curling my hair with rollers, painting my lips red, promising myself I’d have the night of my life. Now, seeing the glittering party in full swing, I’m annoyed.
“Why is he allowed to block even my damn lane?” I mutter, maneuvering past a Bentley to park.
I step out, the air cool against my skin, and head for my door. At least, I’m home safe. But as I push inside, my foot steps into a puddle of water. I freeze, heart sinking. Oh God, the entryway’s flooded, a dark sheen spreading across the floor.
“What the hell?” I gasp, flicking on the light.
Water glints, pooling toward the hall. Panic claws at me, and I follow the trail, my pulse hammering. It’s coming fromthe bathroom, the one room I’ve barely touched. I’d started renovating last week, prying up tiles, exposing old pipes, but haven’t finished. I must’ve hit something or loosened a joint when I was hammering. The sink’s base is a mess with water seeping from a cracked copper pipe. The flow is steady and relentless.
I start freaking out. This is the last thing I need. I can’t afford my for whole house to flood. My hands are shaking as I grab my phone. Annabel. She’ll know someone. I dial and start pacing on the one dry patch by the living room door. “Annabel, it’s me,” I blurt when she answers. “My house is flooding—a pipe burst in the bathroom. I think I must have hit it while renovating. Do you know a plumber?”
“Oh no, that’s awful!” she says, her voice warm with concern. “Call Mick, he’s the best and the only one in the village. I’ll text his number. It’ll be fine. Just don’t panic, okay?”
“Thanks,” I say, hanging up as her text pings through. I call Mick, praying he’s free, but his voice comes slurred, thick with liquor.
“Hello?”
“Mick, it’s Lauren, from Sweetbriar Cottage, ” I say, desperate. “Ann gave me your number. My bathroom’s flooding—a pipe burst. Can you come now, please? I beg you.”
He laughs, a sloppy sound. “Love to help, lass, but I’m blind drunk. Pub crawl in town. Can’t even stand, let alone fix a pipe. I can come tomorrow if you want.”
Tomorrow? My house’ll be a lake by then.
“Please,” I beg, but he’s already mumbling his goodbyes.
I hang up, go outside and pace, the cold biting through my jacket. The grounds of Montrose are alive with Hugh’s party—music drifts down to me as more elegant figures in ballgowns and tuxedos glide toward the great doors. I’m underdressed, my skirt and crop top screaming cheap next to their grandeur, butI’m out of options. The water’s spreading, ruining everything I’ve fought so hard for. Hugh, I realize now, my entire soul sinking, is my best and last shot.
I hesitate, stomach churning with dread.
Asking him for help feels like surrendering, like stepping back into his orbit after I swore I’d stay away.
But my cottage—my home—is drowning.
I glance at the manor, its windows blazing, and start walking, self-conscious, but determined to save my home. I don’t have his number, don’t know how to reach him, but I’ll find him. He’s always the center of everything, isn’t he? Surrounded, commanding, impossible to miss. I walk through the manor’s doors, my heart pounding, scanning for the man I swore I’d forget, knowing that he’s my only hope right now.
Chapter
Twenty-Four
HUGH
Itake a sip of whisky and scan the room restlessly.
It’s been a long time since the ballroom hummed with bodies in silk gowns and tailored suits. I’m mid-sentence, nodding to a new client—some tech mogul droning about crypto yields—but my focus is fraying. I’ve been at it for hours, shaking hands, sealing promises, managing billions with a smile, but I can’t help but admit that I’m getting bored. I need my peace and quiet back fast, and I plan to make my excuses soon and head upstairs. This is not my party anyways.
Then I see her.
And my heart stops, a hard thud against my ribs. Is she real? I’ve been seeing her all night—in every shadow, every laugh—her ghost haunting me through the crowd. But there she is, flesh and blood, her hair loose, lips red as sin.
She crashed Victor’s ball.
