5. Rook
Chapter five
Rook
Rule #3: No dogs larger than a toaster.
I had a very naked, very wet Gemma Daise pressed between my body and the bathroom wall. I would have been less shocked if I'd pulled Mickey Mouse from my shower. "Gemma?" I asked incredulously.
She stared up at me, her long, strawberry blond hair plastered to her head and her eyelashes flecked with water droplets. "Wha—?"
I gave her a little shake, furious and more than a little confused. "What are you doing in my shower? How did you get in here?" It had been alarming enough to come home from a long day to find boxes and hastily packed shit piled in my foyer. But then there was a dog—a fucking dog— in my dining room. Actually, scratch that, it might be a small pony. That thing was monstrous. When I'd heard the shower running, I'd seen red, because either this was a very badly timed prank from someone, or I had an intruder in my house.
It turned out, she was an intruder. A gorgeous, naked one, but an intruder nonetheless. She spluttered, blowing the stream of water from her lips onto my shirt before struggling against my hold. "What do you mean your shower? This is my apartment."
That drew me up short. Gemma was crazy, but she wasn't delusional crazy. There weren't many plausible reasons a young woman would claim that my apartment belonged to her while I had her pinned naked to the wall. The boxes, dog, and brazen use of the shower added substance to her claim that she thought this apartment belonged to her. I gave her a hard stare. "What do you mean your apartment?"
She shifted under my hands, slowly warming from bewildered shock to burning anger. "I mean I signed a lease with your mother, and this apartment is mine."
Oh, that's bad , I thought with a cold wave of horror. That is just insane enough to be true. I reached over to grab a towel from the rack, and Gemma flinched, shrinking away. I slowed the movement, eyes raking over her from head to toe in concern. Was she that afraid of me? "I'm just getting you a towel."
Gemma peeked one eye open, her arms pressed over her full breasts. "Oh."
I slid the fluffy, black towel off the rack before handing it to her and stepping away. "There's been a miscommunication here."
"Yeah, you think?" she spat. She wrapped the towel around her body, knotting it above her breasts with twin spots of pink on her pale cheeks. "How did you get in here?"
"It's my apartment," I replied evenly.
"How?" she challenged, tilting her chin away from me.
"I signed a lease twenty months ago."
Realization painted her features with horror. "Ye Gods."
"What?" I asked with exasperated irritation.
She waved me off. "It's a thing from the game I play."
Shaking my head, I said, "I'll clear this up, but it seems like my mother might have made some kind of… error." She stared at me, dripping water in a steady puddle on the dark tile floor and her luminous, sapphire eyes wide with revelation. She licked water from her bottom lip, and my body responded with a traitorous wave of lust that almost took me to my knees. I decided a hasty retreat would be the wisest course of action for the moment. "I'll wait outside while you get dressed."
"Wha—wait." Gemma stuttered. Then her mouth clacked closed as she looked down at herself. "Never mind. Yes, I'll be out in a minute."
"Oh, you are capable of logic," I teased, already leaving.
"Excuse me," Gemma replied hotly. "You don't get to attack me in the shower and then have the last word, you butthole."
"Juvenile," I huffed under my breath. But the corner of my mouth twitched up when I heard her release a growl of frustration. I closed the door with a firm click. With the light from the bathroom snuffed, my eyes adjusted to the low light in my bedroom, and I tried to find solid ground beneath my feet, mentally.
Gemma Daise was in my bathroom. I'd yanked her naked body out of my shower, and she was right behind me getting dressed. What. The fuck. I crossed the room toward the doorway to my left, flicked on the light, and stared at the empty bedroom. Now that the lights were on and I was less worried about an intruder, I took in minute details. My bedside table had been cleared of all my personal belongings, and the closet had been closed. The bed, only feet away from the bathroom entrance, had been made neatly with new sheets and my spare comforter, and the two armchairs I kept in front of the French doors that led to the balcony had been robbed of the usual assortment of pants and shirts I kept draped over them.
My home looked like a show house my parents might have put together.
"Fuck me," I muttered under my breath. I'd been gone for two days to a work conference in San Diego, and I'd returned to find that my mother had apparently given away my apartment. To Gemma of all people. This made no sense.
But before I could call my mother and demand answers, a text came through on my phone.
Mom:
You have a roommate. Hope you don't mind. It is my building, after all. Signed a second lease to Gemma Daise yesterday. Shouldn't be a problem that she's a girl. Right? You don't do relationships, anyway.
Disbelief buzzed in my veins, followed closely by fury. I tapped out a curt reply.
Knox:
Email me the lease.
Mom:
Already did. Everything legal and in order. Enjoy.
Gemma came out of the bathroom then, but I couldn't hear anything but my own blood pumping furiously through my veins. There was no way this was real. And more importantly, why ? What the hell was my mother playing at, here? I pulled up Gemma's lease in my email, scrolling through the PDF with a sinking stomach that grew heavier with each word.
"So, hey," Gemma said toweling off her hair and coming out of the bathroom in a cloud of steam like a siren emerging from a volcanic sea. "What the fuck, dude?"
I ignored her as I read, and I held up a finger, eyes taking in every word. There was no way she'd signed this. Please God, let this be wrong . But no—I read the last two paragraphs three times. It stipulated the most preposterous terms imaginable. And she'd signed it.
Foreboding twisted my gut, and I went through my email to pull up the lease I had signed with my parents twenty months ago. At the time I'd signed it, I'd thought it was a mere formality. I had lived in various properties owned by my parents for years. It allowed me to purchase and flip my own properties on the side without worrying about how many mortgages I owned at one time. The leases had never been anything more than a few paltry legal phrases strung together to add legitimacy to my parents' operation and their tax write-offs.
But this time, they'd trapped me.
Gemma sighed in frustration, moving past me to leave the bedroom. I side-stepped, blocking her. When I looked up from my phone, it was to find a pinched glare. "Are you adding kidnapping to your assault charges?"
I lowered my phone. "You signed a lease for this apartment yesterday?"
"Oh, you've conveniently realized that after you hauled me from the shower?" Her derision was probably well-placed, but it rankled me anyway.
"I did not know who you were then. I thought I had an intruder in my home." I held up my phone. "But I just got a text from my mom."
"Yes, I told you, this is my apartment. I signed the lease yesterday after your mom offered it to me. I know it sounds crazy, given the timeframe and how little she's charging me—"
"Wait." I held up a hand, stopping her. "She's charging you ?"
"Yeah," Gemma replied slowly.
I gritted my teeth. "That's rich."
"Well, I'm not rich," Gemma pointed out with some amusement. "Which is why your mom said she would charge me what I spent on my last apartment." She'd put on a tank top with a soft, swooping back, and the matching loungewear pants hugged her hips before falling away into buttery pleats to her toes. She looked cozy and far too at home for my comfort level. She wasn't supposed to even be here.
"She shouldn't be charging you anything. I already pay the full price of what this place is worth."
Slow recognition lightened her features. "So, your mother signed us both as lessees of the same apartment. Why?"
I held out my phone again, flashing the lease at her. She looked at it, her eyes crossing slightly as she tried to see what I was showing her. "Because it was a trap."
Gemma's face went pale. She swallowed before scratching out, "I was afraid of that."
"Then why on earth did you sign this?" I demanded. "Did you read it?"
Gemma rubbed her temples. "I need a drink."
"We aren't drinking, we're figuring out how the hell we both ended up signing leases for the same apartment that stipulated the only grounds for termination would be in the event of our marriage."
Gemma's gaze flew to mine, and her pink lips parted in mute shock. Behind me, through the open bedroom doorway, the sound of the dog's whine floated through the air. My sentiments exactly , I thought wryly. Gemma looked over my shoulder, her expression suddenly tight with panic. "I need to walk Mini."
"Mini?" I turned to follow her as she shoved past me and out into the dining room. "That monster's name is Mini?"
Gemma shot me a scathing look over her shoulder as she walked. "Yes. It's a perfect name for her. Just look at her."
"That thing hasn't been a 'mini' anything in its life," I said, aghast.
"Her name is adorably ironic," Gemma replied, like it should have been obvious. She reached the dog's kennel, which was literally the size of a canoe, and unlatched the door to release her hellhound. She held onto the pink, glittery collar, giving me a worried glance again. "She might try to kill you. You're a stranger in my house."
"This is not your house," I reminded her. "And did you miss the part where I mentioned marriage?"
"Oh, I'm pretty sure I misheard you because that's total lunacy and you are mistaken. Sit, Mini. Good girl. Okay, listen, he's annoying, and he smells like broccoli, but don't kill him." Gemma smoothed her hand down the Doberman's head and neck soothingly, talking low and in a baby voice. "We don't want to go to jail. No, that wouldn't be good, would it, baby? Oh, you're such a good girl." The dog regarded me with shifting, pointy ears and an interested gleam in its dark eyes.
I sniffed my shoulder. Broccoli?
"Come on, Mini. Walk? You want to walk?"
The dog got excited, standing from her sitting pose and wagging her stubby, docked tail. I held out a warning finger. "Keep that thing on a leash."
Gemma gave me a coy look over her shoulder. "You afraid of my puppy?"
"That is not a puppy."
"Of course, she is," Gemma cooed, bending down to scrub either side of the dog's face. Mini sat obediently while her owner accosted her. "Such a good girl." The dog's eyes closed in silent pleasure, and I couldn't help but wonder what it felt like to be touched by Gemma's lily-white hands. Probably pretty good.
Expelling a harsh sigh, I walked to my left across the dining area and over to the pile of boxes in front of the apartment entrance. "Where did you put your leash for that thing?"
"Box five-A," Gemma replied absently. "But where did I put my phone?"
I blinked, leaning over to examine the boxes. "Well, I'll be damned," I muttered. Every box was labeled with a precise cataloging system. Although it looked rushed, each box contained neatly stored items that seemed to have a rhyme and reason to them. This day was full of surprises.
I located the leash in a box full of dog supplies, and Gemma came to join me in the foyer. She still had her hand through Mini's collar, and she gave me a nervous glance. "Okay, easy, girl. Easy. She hasn't liked any guys I've brought to our place before, so no sudden movements."
I held the leash, frozen. "You brought a rabid dog into my apartment."
"She's not rabid, she's protective," Gemma replied lovingly. "Aren't you, girl? We don't like those nasty boys."
But Mini acted like any spoiled child might and defied her mother's words entirely. Mini's tail went supersonic fast, and she pulled at Gemma's hold until she was allowed to firmly insert her nose between my legs. I glared down at the dog, and then up to Gemma. "Ferocious."
"Traitor," Gemma glared at the dog.
Mini lifted her head from my thighs and let her tongue loll out happily.
I gingerly handed Gemma the leash. "Ignoring what I said won't make it any less true. We need to talk about this."
Gemma snatched the bright pink leash from my fingers. After affixing it to Mini's collar, she straightened and regarded me with prim acceptance. "You're mistaken. I read that lease thoroughly. It doesn't say anything about marriage. And I guess since I'm the new lessee, that means you're getting kicked out." She turned to press the elevator button.
I came to stand directly behind her. After a quick glance at the dopey smile on her guard dog's face, I felt confident enough to bend down and speak just loudly enough that Gemma could hear me. "It says, 'irrevocable commitment' and 'legally binding marital contract.'"
She stiffened. I hadn't actually touched her, but she reacted like I'd scalded her. "It said… marital?"
"What did you think it said?"
She turned her head enough that she could see my scowl. "Martial. Like… serious?"
I clicked my tongue. "You've been had."
"I'm really confused," she confessed.
"If you would stop running." My voice dipped low as the elevator doors hummed open. "I could take the time to look at this closer and figure out what we've gotten ourselves into."
This close, I could see how Gemma's throat bobbed nervously. Little streaks of silver and gray shot through her crystalline eyes, and they bounced all over my features as I angled over her by mere inches. "I'm not running."
"Sure seems like you are," I countered. "Besides, you shouldn't walk your dog alone at night."
Her brows drew together. "I always walk Mini alone."
"This is a new neighborhood. Does she need a walk now, or can she wait?"
Gemma glanced down at her Doberman, and the dog stared back with what I could have sworn was an imploring expression. "But I already promised her."
I rolled my eyes. "Mini." The dog looked at me expectantly. "Can you give us half an hour?"
Like the animal had actually fucking understood me, Mini huffed, made a sound of displeasure, and then trotted away, leash still attached. She curled up in her bed inside the kennel and rested her head on her paws, watching us.
I rubbed my jaw, scraping across five o'clock shadow. "Huh."
Gemma faced me, hands on her waist. "Fine. Tell me what the hell is going on, then."
"Would you like to sit down in the living room?" Gemma glared. "I guess we're doing this in the foyer," I concluded dryly. "This lease you signed was a trap. And before you get defensive over my censure, be rest assured, they trapped me into a similar one. Essentially, we are both stuck in this apartment."
"How?" Gemma's wet hair was making a damp spot over her breast, and water dripped steadily onto the tile floor.
I studiously ignored all of those little details and tried to focus on the problem at hand. "Your lease states that you will live here for forty-eight months."
Gemma nodded. "Yes, a two-year lease is pretty typical."
"But if you want to terminate the lease early, you have to do it with all involved lessees in agreement—i.e. me—and additionally, you need to provide a mutually agreed upon reason for dissolution only enacted by parties irrevocably bound by legal marital contract. In other words, you can't break this lease early unless your lawfully wedded partner also agrees to do so."
"But I'm not married." Gemma was so much shorter than I was, I could barely see her scrunched expression of confusion as she looked down.
"No, and therefore, you have no legal ability or right to terminate your lease." I folded my arms. "Mine says the same thing. I have to be married, and only then can my partner, also my co-lessee, agree to break the lease agreement."
Gemma pressed her hand to her mouth. "Oh."
"Let me guess," I said, thinking through all the available possibilities and interactions that could have led to this mess. "My mother made an appointment with your agency, and when her attempts to force me into a match fell on deaf ears, she discovered that you… needed a place to live?"
Gemma's long, black eyelashes brushed her cheeks as she closed her eyes in resignation. " Oh. "
"I thought so. I'm afraid you've gotten yourself involved in my mother's highly unethical and dubiously legal matchmaking schemes." I loosened my tie. "I need to read them again, but she had her lawyers draw up the contracts pretty meticulously. We have to live here for twenty-four months, or we have to get married and break the lease early."
"That is actually insane." Gemma paced away, her hand on her forehead and her eyes searching the apartment frantically. "How did I not notice during the tour? Do you not actually live here very often?"
"I live here every day." I whipped my tie away from the collar, wrapping it angrily around my fist. Gemma's eyes tracked the movement with interest. "But she came in here while I was on a business trip and cleaned everything, so it looked like a show house. Did you not look in the fridge or the closets?"
Remorse crossed her features. "I was too grateful to have an apartment."
"As she intended," I muttered. "Listen, I can fix this; I'm used to untangling myself from my mother's meddling. But it might take a while. Do you have somewhere you can stay?"
Gemma slowly rounded on me, her lips tight. "What?"
"Do you," I repeated slower, walking to stand in front of her again, "have a place to stay?"
" This is my place," she hissed furiously.
I scowled. "You can't actually live here with me."
"Then you leave." She folded her arms and looked like the very picture of stubborn willfulness. "You have like a trillion dollars, right? Get a hotel."
"I'm not leaving my house," I argued. The idea of living in a hotel while I looked for another apartment made me want to scream. I'd done that before. It was a mess. Stuff in storage, rifling through boxes to find items, having to lock everything in safes so the staff didn't steal things. Not to mention the lack of cooking amenities and lack of privacy in the gym.
"Well, neither am I. I don't have anywhere else to go. Why do you think I signed a shady lease in the first place?"
I huffed, moving away from her and cinching the tie tighter around my knuckles as I went. "Fine, you can stay here."
"Oh, thank you so much," she shouted sarcastically.
"I'm taking a shower," I growled, crossing my apartment and already hating what my life would be like for the foreseeable future. I wanted to shower and get dinner. I wanted to do those things in my fucking underwear like I usually did, but now I had a militant little shrew in my apartment, and I couldn't.
"Mini, come on," Gemma growled. She stalked back to the elevator—in her bare feet—and as Mini scampered over to join her, she pushed the elevator button again.
I turned, and from across the living space I gave her a glower. "What are you doing?"
"I'm walking my dog." She gestured to the happy creature before turning to face the elevator doors again.
"You can't walk your dog alone at night in your bare feet. I told you that."
Her answering glare could have withered daisies. "Don't tell me what to do."
Rage fizzled in my chest, threatening to explode. I hadn't been this viscerally affected by anyone in a long time. I struggled to contain the emotion, and with calm, sure steps, I returned to her, took the dog's leash in my hand, and moved to block the exit. "I will take your damn dog for a walk. In the future, plan your walks when there is light, or you have a companion." The doors opened, and I stepped inside. "Come on, Mini."
Mini obeyed happily, dancing around my legs and sniffing the four corners of the elevator. Gemma looked at me like I had sprouted a second nose on my face. "You're… taking my dog for a walk."
I slapped the down button a little too forcefully. "I trust you'll plan better next time."
"What if I don't?" she goaded.
I glared. "Do not get comfortable here."
Gemma's slow, answering smile sent trepidation and a helium-light thrill through me in equal measure. "Whatever you say."