Page 1 of The Next Door Billionaire's Deception

Chapter 1

Richard

Someone’sbangingtheroof.

Or maybe that’s just my headache – and now it’s only getting worse.

The thumping sound increases and becomes an unfading rhythm that forces me awake from my too-short slumber. Sleeping at five o’clock in the morning, after hours of poring through documents, only to be woken up so rudely isn’t on the list of things I fancy.

Who the hell is trying to bring down the building?

I sit up, grimacing slightly as the sunlight’s bright glare touches my face. Walking through my apartment half-asleep, I open my door and almost get hit in the face by a man carrying an obscenely large box, and just like that, I’m wide awake.

“What the heck’s going on?”

He turns around to face me.

“Sorry, man. Didn’t see you there.”

Written boldly on his rumpled gray shirt are the wordsPharst Movers.

Pharst. Really?“What’s going on?” I repeat.

“You have a new neighbor.”

Ah! That.

The obvious explanation.

I move closer, a slight frown creasing my brow. The entire hallway is filled with boxes of different sizes. Several of them are stacked almost in meter-long couches close to my door.

“Can I speak to who’s in charge?” I ask the two men moving a white L-shaped sofa.

They both nod toward the direction of the open door. Carefully navigating my way through the boxes, I stop in the doorway. A woman stands at the far end of the mostly empty room with her back to me. Her raven-black hair is pulled into a ponytail that swings as she gesticulates. She’s clad in dark jeans and a pale yellow top. Her voice is low and authoritative, like that of a woman used to giving orders.

“Hello, neighbor.”

She turns toward me, and for a few seconds, I peruse her features; sharp nose, high cheekbones, and the most enthralling eyes I’ve ever seen —green, like moss. Her face pulls into a frown. As she approaches me, a smile is perched on her face.

“Are you one of the movers?”

“Excuse me?”

“Are you one of the movers?” she says again, slowly, this time enunciating each word as if she’s convinced I have a hearing disability.

Does she think I'm deaf or something?

“I’m your neighbor, and I don’t know if you got the memo, but making so much noise within the first few minutes of your arrival isn’t very neighborly. Don't you think so?”

She raises a brow and crosses her arms, her eyes glinting. “If the noise bothers you so much, why don’t you get some earplugs?” she says.

“What?” I ask, perking my brows almost in anger.

She huffs. “I don’t see anyone else complaining.”

“That’s because they don’t live across from your apartment.”

She sighs. “Pleased to meet you, Neighbor-who-hates noise. I’d like to get back to work so I can, you know, stop the noise as soon as possible.”

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