House of Desire

KAT

The first thing I notice is the laughter.

Not polite laughter.

Not neighbourly chuckles drifting over a fence.

Real, loud, male laughter. The kind that doesn’t ask permission. The kind that takes up space and assumes it’s allowed to.

I pause at the side gate, suitcase handle biting into my palm.

The house looked calm from the front. Respectable. Brick. Windows. Very “I pay my council tax on time.”

From the back?

It sounds like testosterone and smoke and bad decisions.

I nudge the gate open just enough to see through.

Three men.

Back garden. BBQ smoking lazily. Bottles in hand. Sunlight catching on bare forearms and inked skin like this is some kind of cologne advert titled Poor Choices.

Of course.

Of course my fresh start involves walking into three hot men mid-laughter like fate’s taking the piss.

I’m about to clear my throat when one of them speaks.

“Yo, Rafe,” says the one sprawled in a chair like he pays rent in audacity. “Isn’t your new roommate arriving today?”

Rafe checks his watch. Casual. Unbothered. Like the world moves on his schedule.

“Yeah. Between twelve and three.”

Another voice. Quieter. Amused. Dangerous in a way that doesn’t need volume.

“What’s she look like?”

Rafe shrugs. “No idea. All I know is her name’s Katalina.”

A beat.

Then—

“Hope she’s hot.”

I blink.

Oh, we’re doing this?

Rafe doesn’t even flinch.

“For fuck’s sake, Eli. Try keeping it in your trousers for once.”

The third one lets out a low laugh. Sharp. Observing.

“For all you know she could be a psycho. Or a bible-basher virgin.”

Eli groans. “Don’t manifest that.”

“You should interview better,” the quiet one adds. “You attract chaos.”

Rafe lifts his beer slowly, eyes half-lidded with something smug and knowing.

“Nah,” he says. “What’s the fun in that?”

Oh.

So this is the energy.

My stomach tightens — not fear. Not nerves.

Interest.

I straighten, push the gate open properly.

It creaks.

All three heads turn.

Rafe’s eyes land on me first.

Slowly.

Not surprised. Not flustered. Just… assessing.

His gaze doesn’t skim. It takes its time. Like it owns it.

Then his mouth curves.

“Well,” he drawls, loud enough for the other two. “Looks like the fun just arrived.”

Oh, he thinks he’s smooth.

“Hope she’s hot?” I say evenly, stepping fully into the garden. “Charming. Really setting the bar for communal harmony.”

For half a second, silence.

Then—

“Fuck,” Eli mutters, sitting forward. “She is hot.”

“Eli,” Rafe says mildly, not looking away from me.

“What? I’m acknowledging reality. I’m honest.”

The quiet one snorts into his bottle.

I drop my suitcase with a deliberate thud.

“For the record,” I add, folding my arms, “the gate wasn’t exactly soundproof.”

Rafe’s smile deepens slightly.

“Good,” he says. “I hate repeating myself.”

There it is. That tone. Calm. Controlled. Slightly filthy without being explicit.

I tilt my head. “You must be Rafe.”

“Guilty.”

“And you must be…” I gesture loosely at the other two, “…the supporting cast?”

Eli gets up immediately, grin wide and completely unapologetic.

“Elliot. Eli. Resident charmer. Please don’t judge the house based on my first impression.”

“I absolutely will,” I reply. “You led with ‘hope she’s hot.’”

“Fair,” he says. “In my defence, you are.”

He says it like he’s commenting on the weather.

Aiden — because I already know that’s his vibe — lifts his bottle slightly.

“Aiden.”

That’s it.

No grin. No hand extended. Just calm, steady eyes that don’t pretend they aren’t taking me in.

He doesn’t leer.

He measures.

Of course he’s the dangerous one.

I look back at Rafe. “So this is the interview?”

He chuckles softly. “You already passed.”

“I didn’t answer anything.”

“You showed up on time,” he says. “You didn’t apologise for overhearing us talking shit. And you’re still standing there instead of bolting.”

Eli nods. “Massive green flags. We’re obsessed.”

“I’m not obsessed,” Aiden says dryly.

Eli looks at him. “You’re emotionally repressed.”

“Correct.”

I blink.

Okay. That was good.

I point at Eli. “You’re on thin ice.”

“Worth it.”

Rafe hooks a thumb toward the house. “Come on. I’ll show you inside before Eli escalates.”

“I haven’t even peaked,” Eli protests.

“God help us,” Aiden mutters.

I grab my suitcase and follow Rafe across the patio, acutely aware of three pairs of eyes on my back.

My brain, unhelpfully:

Three super good looking men. One house. I should’ve worn better underwear.

The kitchen opens up — clean lines, dark counters, lived-in without being messy.

Intentional.

Rafe sets his beer down. “Sit. You want a beer?”

“It’s midday,” I say.

“It’s moving day.”

…valid.

“Fine.”

He grabs a bottle and slides it across the counter.

I catch it.

Eli claps once. “Oh, she’s coordinated. We’re doomed.”

“Speak for yourself,” Aiden says.

I take a sip, then glance at Rafe. “So. No awkward ‘tell us about yourself’ questions?”

He leans back against the counter, arms folding. Effortless dominance. He doesn’t perform it. It’s just there.

“You answered the important one.”

“Which was?”

“Why here.”

I frown. “I didn’t—”

“You didn’t hesitate,” he says calmly. “Most people do.”

That lands harder than it should.

Aiden shifts slightly near the doorway, like he’s waiting to see if I deflect or fold.

I lift my chin. “I wanted somewhere new.”

Rafe nods once.

Enough.

No prying. No pity.

Eli grins. “Hot and mysterious. We’ve upgraded.”

“I’m not mysterious,” I say.

“You walked into a garden of strange men and insulted us within thirty seconds,” he counters. “That’s either confidence or chaos.”

“Maybe both.”

Rafe’s mouth twitches.

“That all you’ve got?” he asks, nodding at my suitcase.

“The rest is in the car,” I say. “I don’t know how long I’m staying.”

The room shifts.

Just slightly.

Rafe’s gaze drops to the suitcase, then slowly back up my body to my face.

“We’ll see.”

Not a joke.

A promise.

A challenge.

I meet his eyes. “Yeah. We will.”

Behind me, Eli lets out a low whistle. “Oh, I like her.”

“You like everyone,” Aiden says.

“True. But I especially like women who don’t look scared.”

I glance at him. “Should I be?”

Eli opens his mouth.

Rafe answers instead.

“Only if you’re boring.”

I feel that in my stomach.

Not fear.

Anticipation.

“So,” I say, gesturing between them, “do all of you live here?”

Rafe snorts. “No. Just me. Ben and Millie for now.”

“Breeders,” Eli mutters.

“They hooked up. Baby on the way,” Rafe explains.

“Traitors,” Eli says. “Ben’s already practising dad jokes.”

“And when they move out?” I ask.

Rafe’s eyes flick back to mine.

“Just us,” he says. “For now.”

That should’ve been my cue to run.

Load the car.

Find somewhere quieter. Safer. Less… combustible.

I didn’t.

Obviously.

I didn’t come here because I wanted quiet.

I came here because silence was suffocating me.

And standing in Rafe’s kitchen, three very different kinds of dangerous surrounding me—

I have a feeling I just solved that problem.

Boredom?

Yeah.

That’s not going to be an issue.