Twisted Hate: An Enemies with Benefits Romance

closets.
A strangled noise slipped from Stella’s throat.
As a fashion blogger, she owned more clothes and accessories than any
human should own, and I could already see her mentally color-coordinating
her clothes.
On the list of things Stella would give up her left arm for, a walk-in closet
ranked number three, after a collaboration with Delamonte, her favorite
fashion brand, and an extended trip through Italy filled with pasta, shopping,
and sunsets over wine.
I wasn’t making it up. She had a written list pinned to the bulletin board
in her bedroom.
“The apartment is okay.” I attempted to sound as casual as possible.
“How much is the rent again?”
Pam told us, and I almost choked on my spit. Even Stella flinched at the
number.
Seventy-five hundred dollars. Per month. Not including utilities.
That wasn’t rent. That was highway robbery.

---

“Oh,” Stella said faintly. “Um, I think our friend mentioned we were
eligible for a special discount. How much is rent then?”
Pam arched one penciled-in brow, her smile wilting. “That is the price of
rent with the discount, dear.” Condescension dripped from the last word, and
Stella flinched again.
I placed a protective hand on her arm and glared at Pam. Who did she
think she was? She had no right to look down on us. Just because we weren’t
obscenely rich didn’t mean we were any less than the residents at The
Mirage.
“She is not your dear,” I said coldly. “And how is it legal to charge that
much for one apartment?”
Pam’s nostrils flared. She drew herself up to her full height, her voice
quivering with outrage. “Ms. Ambrose, I assure you, everything we do here at
The Mirage is aboveboard. If the pricing is outside your budget, might I
suggest you look somewhere more—”
“Is everything all right, Pam?” A smooth, deep voice sliced through the
air like a freshly sharpened knife.
“Mr. Harper.” Pam’s patronizing tone disappeared with the suddenness of
a blown-out candle flame. Breathless deference replaced it. “I thought you
were in New York.”
I turned, curious to see who had the snobby leasing director so worked
up, and the air whooshed out of my lungs in one strong gust.
Holy mother of God.
Thick, wavy, dark brown hair. Cheekbones that could chisel ice. Eyes the
color of whiskey and broad shoulders that filled out his expensive Italian
wool suit like it was custom-made for him, which it probably was.
Everything about him screamed wealth and power, and his sex appeal was so
potent I could practically taste it.
I’d met my fair share of good-looking guys, but the man before me…
wow.
“My business in the city wrapped up earlier than expected.” The godlike
man smiled at me. “Christian Harper. Owner of The Mirage.”
Harper. Why did that name sound so familiar?
“Jules Ambrose. Future owner of a penthouse at The Mirage,” I quipped.
After I became a partner at Silver & Klein, that is. It will happen. Stella
was the woo-woo one with her crystals and horoscopes, but I low-key
believed in manifestation as long as I mixed it with a healthy dose of hard

---

work. It’d gotten me out of Ohio and into Thayer Law after all.
Amusement glowed in Christian’s eyes. “Nice to meet you, Jules. I
expect you’ll be buying the penthouse from me sometime in the future then.”
My eyebrows rose. So he actually lived at The Mirage. I’d expected him
to reign over a mansion in the suburbs, but on second glance, Christian
Harper did not look like a man who would live in the suburbs. He screamed
city vibes through and through.
Black coffee. Expensive watches. Fast cars.
Christian turned to Stella. His face remained relaxed, but something
flared in his eyes, hot and bright enough to drown out his earlier amusement.
He held out his hand. After a brief hesitation, she took it.
“I’m Stella.”
“Stella,” he repeated, softly and slowly, like he was savoring the
syllables. He didn’t move an inch, but the intensity of his stare was so strong
it pulsed in the air. Time seemed to slow, and I wondered if that was a
superpower of the rich—manipulating reality until it bent to their will.
A pink flush rose on Stella’s cheeks. She opened her mouth, then closed it
and glanced down at where his hand still gripped hers.
Another long second stretched by before Christian released her hand and
stepped back with an indecipherable expression etched on his perfect
features.
The movement pressed play on the scene, and time returned to normal.
Pam stirred, the faint honks of cars ten floors below filtered through the glass
windows, and my breath rushed out in an exhale.
Christian’s gaze lingered on an uncharacteristically wary-looking Stella
for a fraction of a second longer before he shifted his attention back to me.
The intensity disappeared, replaced with a portrait of easy charm and
hospitality once again.
“How do you like the apartment?” he asked.
“It’s beautiful but out of our budget,” I admitted. “We appreciate you
setting up this tour for us though. Thank you.”
“Well.” Pam cleared her throat. “Mr. Harper, I can take it from here. I’m
sure you have plenty of—”
“What’s your budget?” Christian asked, ignoring his leasing director
completely.
Stella and I exchanged glances before I responded.
“Twenty-five hundred a month. Total.” I was almost embarrassed to say it

---

out loud. It was a pathetic fraction of the regular rent.
I’d expected Christian to laugh in our faces and throw us out. Instead, he
rubbed a thumb over his bottom lip, his expression speculative.
Silence descended again, but this time it was filled with breathless
anticipation—mostly mine, though a glimmer of hope shone in Stella’s eyes
as well.
I tried to tamp down my expectations. There was no way he’d agree to
that price. Christian was a businessman, and businessmen did not—
“Done,” he said.
Pam’s mouth fell open in shock.
I hated to admit it, but my face likely matched hers. “Excuse me?”
There was a difference between not looking a gift horse in the mouth and
questioning something that was completely insane. Sure, Christian was
friends with Rhys and Rhys was future royalty, so it didn’t hurt to be in his
good graces, but we weren’t Rhys’s family or anything. The Mirage would be
taking a huge financial hit if Christian rented the apartment to us for such a
low price.
Or maybe it wouldn’t. I didn’t know. There was a reason I studied law
and not business or economics.
“Twenty-five hundred a month. Done,” Christian said as casually as if he
were buying a Starbucks coffee. “Pam, draw up the papers.”
A vein pulsed in her temple. “Mr. Harper, I think we need to discuss—”
Those whiskey eyes sharpened and lanced into her.
Pam fell silent, though her expression remained mutinous.
“I’ll wait here.” A razored edge ran beneath Christian’s otherwise genial
tone.
Another warning, this one less subtle.
“Of course.” Pam’s mouth stretched into a forced smile. “I’ll be right
back.”
I waited until she left before I crossed my arms over my chest and
narrowed my eyes at Christian. “What’s the catch?”
He straightened his suit sleeve. “Elaborate.”
“Twenty-five hundred a month would barely cover the utilities, much less
the rent. I know we’re friends of a friend and all, but it doesn’t make financial
sense.”
If something seemed to good to be true, it probably was. There had to be
a catch.

---

The corner of Christian’s mouth tugged up. “Unless you install an indoor
water park and keep it running twenty-four-seven, I doubt your utilities will
cost that much each month. And there is no catch. Rhys is an old friend, and I
owe him a favor.”
“How do you know him?” Stella asked.
Christian paused, that indecipherable expression flickering across his face
again before he responded with a smooth, “We used to work together.”
Suddenly, it clicked.
“Harper Security,” I said, naming the elite private security firm Rhys
worked for when he was Bridget’s bodyguard. “You’re the CEO.”
“At your service,” he drawled.
“I hope not.” Any situation that required me or Stella to get a bodyguard
wouldn’t be a good one. “So, there’s really no catch?”
“No. My only stipulation is you sign today. I doubt members of The
Mirage’s waiting list would be happy I let you skip the line, and I can’t
guarantee this offer will be available if you wait until tomorrow or even
tonight.”
Stella and I exchanged another glance. I hated rushing into things, but this
was our dream apartment. What if Christian did change his mind later? I
would never forgive myself for letting the opportunity slip through my
fingers.
Pam returned with the papers, her face screwed into a sour frown.
Too bad. If she had a problem with what was happening, she could take it
up with her boss, though I doubted she would. Christian did not look like the
type who tolerated insubordination.
“Here.” She practically shoved the papers into my hand.
“Thank you, Pam.” I bestowed her with a gracious smile. “I’m so excited
we’re going to be your tenants.” I paused. “Sorry, I mean Christian’s
tenants.”
Her mouth tightened further, but she was smart enough not to respond.
Half an hour later, after Stella and I painstakingly reviewed every line of
the lease, searching for red flag phrases like tenants must provide sexual