3. Nina
Nina
S itting cross-legged on my bed, I debate what I should do now. Being tired but wired just so happens to be the most annoying feeling in the world.
It’s dark out and my fingers ache from hours of painting, arranging,and obsessing on Stella’s bedroom.
Decorating while she’s away on tour is my distraction, mylifeline, and every penny of the salary she insists on paying me is getting funneled right back into these walls.
It’s a loophole, a way to give her something without taking anything in return.
Staying in the main house feels wrong—like trespassing in a life I don’t deserve—so I’ve claimed the pool house that’s separated from the main house as my own. It’s cozy, just a single room with a bathroom attached, but it’s enough. For now, at least. Until she comes home.
But decorating Stella’s house and helping Elodie at her bakery every once in a while isn’t enough to keep me busy.
I’m bored and need a hobby, something new and exciting, to distract me from Mom’s messages.
Her latest one? Wanting me to ask Elodie for money.
She even included a screenshot of her marriage announcement to Hunter, a multimillionaire.
I respond with a simple no and immediately open my burner Instagram account as a distraction from the fact that Mom’s still sending messages. Messages I don’t want to open. She knows Elodie and her mom will never give her a dime, not after they cut her off years ago.
Interrupting my doomscrolling is a post from my father’s company appearing on my feed.
It’s like a jump scare and I almost drop my phone when it comes up.
I’m no expert at the algorithms but if I’m getting shown his content, does that mean he’s also searched for me?
Kept tabs on me? Being abandoned by him before I was born left me with too many questions, and no answers.
My entire life, Mom blamed me for not only being born but the fact she signed contracts out the wazoo to ensure my father would never be part of my life, or hers.
She’d always use his name as a curse in our house. I grew up hearing it repeated over and over again: Miguel Mercer.
Turns out he’s a successful CEO of a famous food company.
I never told anyone about him, or that I know who he is.
Not even Elodie. Pretending like I don’t know he exists is easier than admitting to the fact that he didn’t want me.
He’s never met me, and part of me thinks that if he did, maybe he’d change his mind on getting to know me.
But those are the desires of a sad eight-year-old who wanted her father to attend the daddy-daughter dance at school.
Needing to do something other than think about him, I head into the main house to grab a snack from the kitchen. Not using a light, I open the fridge and debate what to eat. My phone buzzes and I grin when I see it’s the girls.
Elodie: Have y’all heard? Evren’s house is wrecked.
Aria: Did someone break in?
Elodie: No, last night apparently his smart house turned against him, and the sinks and bathtubs went rogue. At least, that’s how Hunter describes it.
Me: He’s stupid to have such a high-tech house. Hasn’t he ever watched I, Robot?
Elodie: I’ll be sure to ask that question the next time I see him.
Me: You should also ask him about his water bill next time you see him.
Aria: Let me guess, Nina. You have a shirt that says, “Eat the rich” on it?
Me: I have seven, one for each day of the week.
Aria: Can you send me one? I’d love to wear it to the next event my parents force me to attend.
Stella: Send me one, too!
I laugh. This is why I’ve easily accepted Aria and Stella as friends, even if they’re billionaires.
I never thought I’d enjoy being around people with money, but to them,money is just a tool,something to be used for good.
They both donate huge amounts to charity every year,but they’re always so humble about it.
Money has nothing to do with our friendship, thank God.
The sudden creak of the front door opening startles me out of my thoughts.
Wait, the door ?
Heart pounding in a frantic rhythm, I freeze in place. Someone’s here.Lunging, I grab a kitchen knife and clutch it in my hand.
I stand in the darkness of the kitchen,holding my breath in a silent gasp.Footsteps echo near the front door,then a flashlight beams across the marble floors.Panic surges through me as I realize I’m trapped. The exits are all too close to the intruder’s location.
I wait,my senses on high alert,listening for any sound that might betray their position.
Suddenly, a towering figure emerges from the shadows.
Their flashlight blinds mefor a split second, but I don’t wait until I can see again and lunge blindly forward with my knife.
The intruder reacts with lightning speed,easily sidestepping my attack.
With a practiced motion,they disarm me,the knife clattering to the floor.
Before I can react, the world spins as I’m taken to the ground, the breath knocked out of my lungs as I land on my back. My long hair covers my face and panic surges inside of me.
I can’t see.
With my arms pinned and a heavy weight atop of me, I scream and buck wildly.
“Nina?” the man asks. “Shit, are you okay? Did I hurt you?” He pushes my hair off my face, and I stare up at…Evren? “Why did you attack me?”
“I thought you were an intruder.” I push against his chest, and he’s off me in the next instant.
“What were you thinking coming at me with a knife? You could’ve gotten hurt. Well, more hurt than you are now.” Evren grabs his phone from the ground, the flashlight still on. “Shit. Do you need a doctor? I’m so?—”
“I’m fine,” I cut him off, hiding my wince as I sit up and lift my chin in the air. Of course he’d lecture me after laying me out in half a second. “But what the fuck are you doing here?”
“Stella didn’t tell you?”
“Tell me what?” I ask. Evren holds a hand out to help me up, but I bypass it and get to my feet myself. “Give me my knife back. ”
“Why?” His lips twitch as he looks me over. “Planning on stabbing me with it?”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I plan to do if you don’t explain yourself in the next ten seconds.” He suppresses a grin, and my anger ratchets up. “There’s nothing funny about this situation.”
“You’re right. There isn’t.” His face smooths out in the next instant, except for a frown line between his eyebrows. Handing me my knife, he says, “Stella offered for me to stay here until my house is fixed.”
“No.” It comes out before he even finishes speaking.
His eyebrows rise. “That’s not your decision to make.”
“You’re a fucking billionaire. You could stay anywhere in the world, literally. You don’t need to be here.”
“You’re right, I could, but I couldn’t refuse Stella’s offer. She was…insistent.”
“Well, call her up and resist .” There’s absolutely no way he’s going to stay here.
I need him out, ASAP. Besides living near Elodie, the main part that sold me on staying here is that I’d be alone.
I’ve never not lived with someone, and I need it with a desperation I didn’t realize I had until now.
I’m finally away from my mom, physically at least, and I can breathe for the first time in years.
Evren isn’t allowed to intrude on this just because his house flooded.
And sure, that might sound harsh, but again, he’s a billionaire.
He could literally buy a thousand houses tomorrow .
“No.” He says it with a finality that causes my shoulders to hike to my ears. “I gave her my word, and I never go back on that.”
We both glare at each other, at a stalemate. I can almost picture the theme song of Western movie The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly whistling through the house followed by the waw, waw, waw as we stare each other down.
“Fine,” I say, grabbing my phone and calling Stella. This all must be a misunderstanding. Stella surely wouldn’t offer Evren to stay here.
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 of assistants 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 know what’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 eating my cereal.
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’s why I need to watch him swim. For the schedule.
When he finishes with his swim thirty minutes later, he heads into the sauna for ten minutes.
Ten long minutes that make me wonder how sitting in a hot room holds any appeal.
I’ve never been in a sauna, and I don’t get it.
But if he likes using it, then maybe I need to start using it myself just to mess with his schedule.
When he comes out, he looks more relaxed than I’ve ever seen him before. The tension that clings to him like a second skin is nowhere to be found. I watch as he closes the door to the main house and flicks on and off lights as he makes his way to the bedroom.
Finally, when the light to Stella’s bedroom on the second floor turns on, I get back to plotting. I have no idea what time he wakes up, but I bet it’s early. He has that start-the-day-at-five-a.m. energy to him.
I glance at the clock. It’s already midnight. If he wakes up early, I’m sure he’d want coffee. And that’s something I can use to get back at him for eating my cereal.
Grinning from ear to ear, I sneak into the main house and steal all the coffee and the tea from the cabinets and hide them in the pool house.
It’s petty, but what can I say? Petty is my middle name.
Setting my alarm for five a.m., I fall asleep with a smile on my face, not willing to miss his reaction for anything.