Chapter 1
Huffing hard, I dragged my suitcases up the stairs.Scratch that. I had shoved my entire life into two overstuffed suitcases after panic-packing everything in a hurry.
By the time I reached the second floor, one of the suitcases burst open. Literally burst open.
“Shit.”
At least I had made it to my sister’s floor.
Somehow, I managed to drag the torn suitcase to her apartment door. I desperately hoped Sara and my brother-in-law were home because I hadn’t contacted them beforehand. A few weeks ago, Sara and I had gotten into an argument, and apologizing now meant admitting she had been right all along.
She had warned me not to rent an apartment through that third-party app marketed as some “Gen-Z relatable” platform with a 100% refund guarantee during the first month.
Turns out it was all fake marketing. A scam, actually.
Three weeks after moving in, I found out the apartment hadn’t even been listed by the real owner. Apparently, the actual owners could’ve reported me for trespassing if they wanted to. Thankfully, I had only moved my foldable bed there because I was too financially stingy to transport everything at once.
Still, my five hundred dollars had vanished down the drain.
Gathering what little dignity I had left, I knocked on my sister’s door.
What I wasn’t expecting was a deep, masculine groan from inside the apartment—one that definitely didn’t belong to my brother-in-law. Alonso wasn’t nearly that gruff.
I frowned and glanced at the apartment number again.
Correct place.
Are they throwing a party? Why wasn’t I invited?
I pressed the doorbell.
“Sara, open the door,” I called, panic slipping into my voice.
The door swung open.
But instead of Sara or Alonso, a shirtless man stood in the doorway wearing nothing but low-hanging sweatpants.
My eyes instinctively traveled upward—from his bare torso to his face.
Familiar.
I remembered him.
Of course I remembered my brother-in-law’s rich cousin.
Of course I remembered the asshole who had left me hanging.
Of course I remembered Leonardo Martinez.
“Where’s Sara?” I asked immediately. “Why are you here?”
He leaned against the doorway, looking annoyingly amused.
“Don’t tell me you forgot they went on vacation.”
Oh no.
The memory hit me instantly.
Sara had mentioned the trip the day before our fight.
I crossed my arms. “Why are you here? I thought you were in Los Angeles working for your dad’s company. Wasn’t New York just a magnet for low-life parasites looking for an easy score?”
The taunt wiped the amusement off his face.
“Yes, New York is still the last place I want to be,” he replied coolly. “But unfortunately, I’m the one managing my company’s New York branch now.” His gaze sharpened. “I talked to Alonso. I’m staying here for a month.”
Then he tilted his head slightly.
“I should be asking why you’re here, mi sol.”
Leo had a talent for throwing questions like knives. And those eyes—
God, his eyes were intense enough to send a shiver crawling down my spine.
“Uh, this is my sister’s apartment,” I said, trying to sound confident. “I can crash here whenever I want.”
Before he could respond, I shoved past him and walked inside.
I dropped my bags beside the couch and kicked the ripped suitcase into a corner. But Leo still hadn’t stopped staring at me, and I knew things were serious the moment he used my actual name.
He had only said my name twice before.
The first time was when we met.
The second time was at a club, when I’d been acting like a complete bitch to him. That night, he’d pinned me against a wall and sucked a bruise onto my neck—but nothing more had happened afterward. It left me sexually frustrated and mentally humiliated.
Back in the present, he stood across the room studying me like I’d committed a crime.
“What happened, Amelia?” he asked finally. “Why is your suitcase ripped open, and why do you look like you’ve been through hell?”
That was all it took.
The exhaustion, humiliation, stress, and anger crashed into me all at once.
I burst into tears.
Not cute tears either.
Loud. Ugly. Sloppy.
And instead of laughing, Leo simply pulled me into his arms.
I cried against his bare shoulder, fully aware I was an embarrassingly messy crier. If Sara saw me right now, she’d never let me live it down.
I cried for a solid fifteen minutes before finally pulling away in horror.
Actually, shoving him away.
“Sorry about crying all over you,” I mumbled, mortified. “And getting snot on your shoulder. Maybe you should’ve worn a shirt. Then this wouldn’t have happened.”
Leo stared at me blankly.
“How is me not wearing a shirt the problem,” he asked slowly, “when you’re the one who weaponized your mucus?”
“Oh, please shut up,” I muttered, my face warming with embarrassment. “And at least put on a shirt now.”
Leo only smirked as he pulled one over his head.
“We can’t use Sara and Alonso’s room,” I continued awkwardly. “They’re, uh… too kinky. One of us has to sleep on the sofa, and the other can take the guest room. Which one are you choosing?”
“Mi sol, you can sleep in the guest room.”
He said it so casually while buttoning his shirt, completely unaware of how disappointing it was for me to witness the tragic disappearance of his holy shirtless form.
No. Absolutely not.
I could not think like that.
Especially not about the same jerk who had left me hopelessly turned on that night at the club.
“Cool,” I replied shortly.
Then I grabbed my suitcase and dragged it into the guest room before my thoughts got any worse.
