The Deadline Rule

Janet POV：

I stepped carefully into the master bedroom, already planning where to start cleaning.

The room was surprisingly elegant—minimalist furniture, dark wood, expensive-looking bedding.

Whoever owned this place clearly had taste.

My attention landed on a photo frame sitting on the nightstand.

Curious, I picked it up.

A tall, broad-shouldered man stood in the center of a baseball team photo, one arm slung casually around a teammate.

Even in the picture, he looked intimidating—sharp jawline, dark hair, and an expression that suggested smiling wasn’t something he did often.

“Wow,” I muttered.

If the landlord looked like this, I almost wished the rent could go directly to him instead of the agent.

I was just about to pick up another photo frame——

“What the hell are you doing in my bedroom?”

A voice exploded behind me.

I yelped and nearly dropped the frame, spinning around so fast I almost crashed into the bed.

For a split second my brain stopped working.

Standing a few steps away from me was a man—tall, broad-shouldered, water still dripping from his dark hair.

A white towel hung low on his hips.

My eyes snapped upward immediately.

My heart slammed against my ribs.

Wait.

That face.

My brain stuttered for 0.1 seconds.

“Are… are you Mr. Evans?” I blurted.

The man froze.

His eyes narrowed.

“Who the hell are you?”

His voice was cold, edged with irritation.

My pulse was still racing as I clutched the photo frame against my chest.

“I—I’m your new tenant,” I said quickly. “I moved in yesterday.”

He muttered a curse under his breath and disappeared into the walk-in closet.

I stood rooted to the spot, torn between turning tail and staying put.

A few minutes later, he emerged wearing a black silk robe.

The sash tied loosely at his waist. The fabric clung to his frame, tracing every line of the muscle beneath.

My eyes were glued to the view.

“Why the hell didn’t the agent tell me?” he snapped. The ice in his tone made my spine stiffen.

“I’m sorry...” I offered, my voice barely a whisper.

How the hell was I supposed to know about the agent’s mess?

That damn agent had only told me one thing—cleaning the house twice a week would slash the rent in half.

I placed the picture frame carefully back on the nightstand, lingering in the awkward silence.

He strode toward me, brow furrowed.

“The agent didn’t mention that the master bedroom was strictly off-limits?”

He kept his voice low, but the underlying rage made my fingers go cold.

“No...”

My gaze dropped instinctively—anywhere but his eyes.

Unfortunately, that meant landing straight on the solid muscle visible beneath the loose collar of his robe.

Oh.That was… impressive.

I gulped, feeling a sudden dryness in my throat.

“Well, you know now. Get out.”

“Right...”

I turned to leave, head bowed.

“I’m calling the agency to kill the lease,” he called out from behind me. “Clearly, they don’t know how to run a business.”

“No!”

I spun around, desperation overriding my fear.

“You can’t just cancel it. I’ve already moved in. If you want me out, you’re going to have to pay up.”

I was due at my new job tomorrow. I didn’t have the bandwidth to hunt for another apartment.

Besides, where else would I find a deal like this—half off the rent for a little light cleaning?

He let out a dry, dismissive laugh.

“Fine. I’ll pay. I’ll make the agency pick up the tab.”

“No, wait,” I cut him off, urgency sharpening my tone. “I don’t have the time to—”

“That’s not my problem.”

His gaze was cold and detached, as if I were nothing more than a piece of furniture he’d ordered by mistake and was ready to toss to the curb.

I took a steadying breath, forcing myself to pivot.

“Mr. Evans, I get it. This is a mess. But can you cut me some slack? I need a few days to find a new place.”

I let my eyes glisten just slightly.

Not real tears.

Just enough to manufacture a little leverage.

He fell silent for a beat, then waved a hand, radiating pure impatience.

“Fine. Get out. I’ll give you a week.”

“Thank you, Mr. Evans,” I said sweetly.

Inside, I was already composing an extremely detailed list of insults.

~ ~ ~

The door had barely closed behind me before I called the agent.

“Mr. Brolin, I want to know why—”

“Miss Brooks? Hold on a moment, I’m on another call.”

I waited, tapping my foot impatiently.

Through the receiver I could hear him repeating, “Yes, Mr. Evans. Of course. I’m very sorry.”

My stomach sank.

A moment later he returned.

“Miss Brooks, I’m afraid Mr. Evans has decided to terminate your lease.”

“What?”

My heart plummeted, my voice rising a sharp octave.

“You can’t terminate the contract—it’s already legally binding.”

“Mr. Evans says you violated his rules, so he’s reclaiming the room.”

“That’s not fair. You never told me—”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Brooks. You have one week. I’ll send over as many listings as I can...”

I slammed the phone down, muttering a curse under my breath.

This isn’t fair!

It’s not my fault!

Why should I lose a place this clean, comfortable, and affordable?

Thinking about the new job starting tomorrow, the mounting workload, and the absolute nightmare of apartment hunting—a knot of pure, unadulterated rage tightened in my chest.

I paced back into my room and collapsed onto the bed, burying my face in my hands.

Suddenly, I realized my left earring was gone.

I bolted upright, frantically checking every inch of myself.

Nothing.

No...

I unclipped the remaining pearl, my heart aching.

That pair cost half my month’s paycheck.

Could it have fallen off while I was cleaning?

I steeled myself and marched to his door, pressing the bell.

The door swung open, and Josh Evans stared down at me with cold, expectant eyes, as if he knew exactly why I was there.

“Mr. Evans, I think I dropped an earring while I was cleaning earlier...”

He didn’t make a move to invite me in.

“A clever excuse,” he said dryly. “Let me guess. You were planning to cry on my couch and beg me not to cancel the lease.”

I froze, my mouth hanging open, unable to form a coherent word.

“No, Mr. Evans,” I finally stammered. “My hair got caught on it earlier, it really might be inside... I wasn’t trying to talk about the lease.”

I shouldn’t have said that. That sounded like a lie.

He watched me in silence for a beat, his expression unreadable.

Then, he spoke, his voice biting.

“Ms. Brooks, you’ve disturbed me twice in a very short window. I don’t believe your earring is in my home. If I happen to stumble upon it, I’ll return it.

“Now, please go. You have seven days to clear out. I’ve already been more than generous.”

He didn’t wait for a rebuttal before the door clicked shut.

My stomach twisted, the humiliation hitting me like a physical blow.

The rage I’d been suppressing finally broke its dam.

My body moved before my brain could process the impulse; I stormed back to the door and hammered on the bell.

I clenched my trembling hands into fists, locking eyes with that infuriatingly handsome face as he opened the door once more.

“Something else?” His impatience was absolute.

“Mr. Evans,” I said, a cold, sharp smile playing on my lips. “I need to remind you: the contract is legally binding. You don’t have the right to evict me on a whim.”

For a flicker of a second, a muscle in his perfectly calm face twitched.

My smile widened.

“Thirty days, minimum. And if I feel like being difficult? You’ll be waiting ninety.”

I spun on my heel, throwing a final line over my shoulder.

“So, I’d suggest you try playing nice.”

I didn’t need to look back to know he looked blindsided, but there was no victory in it.

I felt hollowed out.

I kept walking down the hallway, forcing my steps to stay steady.

Pull yourself together.

It was just a stupid earring.

And just a temporary place to stay.