Page 30 of Landlord Wars
“I’m going home anyway. I don’t mind taking you.”
She hesitated a moment, but she must have been too exhausted to argue, because she stepped inside the car and settled in the front seat, setting her workbag on the floorboard.
I let out a heavy sigh of relief as I rounded the rear bumper. Sophia was upset, and I did not feel good about letting her find her way to the apartment. I would have, in fact, turned into the stalker I wasn’t and followed her to make sure she got there safely.
As soon as Sophia fastened her seatbelt, I started the car and pulled onto the street. Her silence was worrisome. “Are you okay?”
Her voice was soft and faint when she replied, “Why did you come today?”
WhyhadI come? It suddenly seemed less about the deposit and more about understanding this woman. Only now I was regretting my decision. I hadn’t wanted to hurt her, and that seemed exactly what I’d done. “I already told you.”
Her glare on the side of my face was weighted with anger. “You gave me an excuse about the deposit, but no rich landlord personally delivers a check. Especially not before a tenant has moved out.”
My office could have mailed the check, and typically that was done after a tenant moved out, but there was another reason for my visit. “I’d like you to reconsider breaking your lease.”
She pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes. “Why?” she said with a look of exhaustion. “Or you’ll sue me for breach of contract?”
Okay, I deserved that. I’d been surprised and then annoyed when she told me she was moving. But it wasn’t because of money. “Jack wants you to stay, and he believes I’m the reason you’re leaving.” That was the truth. Just not the whole truth.
There was a chance I’d pushed an innocent woman to flee. I wasn’t proud of it.
I also didn’t want to see her go.
Her eyes met mine briefly, filled with equal measures of anger and hurt. “And if I don’t stay?”
I gentled my tone. “You are free to break the lease without repercussions.”
She shook her head. “Are you doing this out of pity? Offering me my room back after you saw my mom’s place?”
I looked over, brow furrowed, before returning my gaze to the road ahead. “There’s nothing wrong with a humble home.”
She made a derisive sound in the back of her throat. “Humble… That guy my mom mentioned—Paul? He was my last serious boyfriend. He dumped me as soon as he saw where I lived, after we’d been dating a year and were considering marriage. He told me he didn’t want my mom to be a part of his future family. It’s more than just the home.”
My hands gripped the steering wheel. On the outside, I had the ideal family, but it was all smoke and mirrors. “That guy you dated was a shallow excuse for a human being.”
“Agreed,” she said, then seemed to catch herself. She looked as though she hadn’t expected my response.
Imagining Sophia hurt by others for things out of her control… It bothered me. And I was the dickhead who’d added to her pain on the rooftop, and probably a few other times because of my trust issues.
“No pity,” I finally said. Because I didn’t pity her. What I felt was admiration. “My best friend’s happiness is important, and he says you’re a good roommate. And that I have been…rude.”
She snorted, and I took that for agreement.
I wasn’t a total ass, just occasionally when my protective instincts fired in the wrong direction. “You asked for the deposit, and it caught me off guard. Jack passes on the reduced rent to whoever sublets. I’m not used to someone giving up a thing of value. Especially not when it comes to the opposite sex. That’s the world I live in, and people rarely sway from their roles.”
“So what you’re saying is, women don’t turn down your money.” Her expression was pure annoyance, and relief flooded my chest. The distress she’d exhibited at her mom’s had me antsy and prepared to bust down buildings to protect her. “Maybe those women actually liked you?” she said.
I sent her a look.
She smiled. “Right. I can see why women wouldn’t like you for who you are on the inside, what with your handsome looks and fancy sports car blocking the view.”
“Do I sense sarcasm?”
“You realize you can be rich, good-looking, and genuinely liked? Though that last one could be a struggle.”
Swinging briefly into oncoming traffic, I dodged a double-parked car. “I deserved that.”
“I’m just saying,” she continued, rubbing salt in the wound, “that if you were a kind person, which I question, there might be people who could tolerate your presence.” She shifted toward me, and the side of my body lit up. “For the record, I’m not one of them. I have a particular distaste for arrogant, rich men. No amount of money can compensate for a chocolate-stealing thief who shows off his wealth with his suits and expensive sports car.”
