As I prepare to leave for work dreading the annoyance that will be waiting for me, I keep focused and remind myself to put one foot in front of the other, striving forward. But that’s hard, because sure enough, the pink bike is still parked outside of my apartment.

Ignoring it, I emerge into the warm summer day, the noise next door is so loud, but at least it’s coming from inside the building, if I am looking at any positives in this situation. Keeping my eyes down, I go for my bike. And when it is not at the bike rack, it infuriates me.

That sonofabitch.

My teeth are gritted together as I try and decide what to do. What I wanna do is find him and fucking slap him. But I saw how well poisoning him with a pepper went, so assault will surely not bother him. Turning to walk in, I run smack dab into him.

“Ooompph,” I yelp from the impact. My hands touch him, he smells like a fucking drug, and as dazed as I am being this close to him, I force myself to quickly back away. “Did you steal my bike?” I accuse him, noticing he has another stupid ass ten thousand-dollar bike with him.

“No, I don’t steal bikes – I buy them. So, is white the color for you? It’s what chefs wear.” He licks his lips and I want to tear my hair off my scalp.

There is something about him that is so infuriating to me.

“No, goddammit. No white, or pink, or teal, or any color of that dumb electric bike. It’s not for me. I ride to exercise.”

“Okay, I need to switch the brand up.” He seems really concerned. “And no electric, could you at least tell me which color you—”

I cut him off. “Don’t buy me another bike, or anything.”

“Why?”

“Why? Seriously, that’s your question?”

“Yes.”

I push my way around him and storm off. I need to end this conversation, no…all conversations with this ridiculous asshole – now. But he won’t let me. He’s right there, walking along with me, his shoes silent today, and I wonder if he changed them because of my comment. But it’s probably just a coincidence. He catches me staring down and asks, “Are these shoes okay with you?”

“I don’t care what shoes you wear, King.”

“But you do. You insulted my other ones. They were my favorite pair too.”

Shaking my head, I ignore him. But his eyes are on me again and it makes me feel so awkward inside, all hot and bothered. “Why do you hate me?” he asks me.

“I don’t hate you, King. I don’t even know you.”

“You act like you hate me. You won’t even look at me.”

I stop in the middle of the sidewalk and take in a big breath of air, looking deep into his eyes. They are the clearest blue that I have seen and I wonder if maybe I haven’t been looking at him. “What can I do to make this right? We obviously started off on the wrong foot.”

“I don’t know.”

“Tell me, please.”

“You can keep the noise down until…nine in the morning.”

“Ahhhh.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Something else?”

“Jesus, you are such a piece of work.”

“What?”

Clearly, he’s fuckin’ strange. “Come on, this is a five million-dollar project, I can’t start later in the morning.”

“Fine, apologize for the stunt you pulled at my work on my birthday.”

“Nah, you ruined my lunch.” I glare at him, astounded that he wants to know what I want, and when I tell him, he won’t do it. He gives me a grin and I step really close to him. His breath is on my skin, his eyes are burning into my soul, and I give him a taste of his own medicine. Obviously he is pursuing me for another reason than giving me a hard time. Taking my hand, I cup his face. He closes his eyes, leaning into my touch; a low growl crackles from his throat. Rubbing my thumb gently over his plump bottom lip, I go to pull away and he wraps his arm around me, holding my body more tightly against his.

Staying in control as I end this before it even begins, I whisper, “Don’t fucking follow me or talk to me, ever again.” Dropping my hand, I remove his from around my waist and walk away. My body is coursing with adrenaline, and I don’t think it’s because of what I just did; it’s because of what he did. Holding me like that, possessing me like I was his property.

He kindles something inside me, something that has never awoken, and it frightens me what could happen if I let it out.

* * *

Walking into the kitchen, I hang my stuff up and find Ross already in the office. “Morning.”

“Hey,” he mumbles, focusing on the computer.

“I was going to help you prep, is that cool with you?”

“Okay, can you do an inventory first and then I’ll be out?”

I give him a smile, trying to make up for what I did, but can sense the distance between us. I hate that I did this. My job, this place, it’s everything to me.

Going into the walkout, I get an idea, a wild one…but it might work and get me back in his good graces, which is what I need. If I have to dread my apartment and being tormented by King every day and then come here and be as miserable, my life will slowly spiral downwards.

Finishing up the inventory, Ross is still in the office, I pop in and tell him, “I’m gonna make a call real quick, if you’re still busy. Is that okay?”

“Sure.”

“Here’s the inventory.” I hand it to him and grab my phone out of my backpack, then step out back. Following my gut on this one, I do a Google search for King Architecture and call the number listed for the business.

“King Architecture, how may I direct your call?” A woman answers the phone.

Pulling out my best Texas twang I ask, “May I please speak with King?”

“I’m sorry, he’s out in the field right now. Can I put you through to his voice mail?”

“This is his aunt in Texas, and I’m calling regarding a family matter. Could you patch me through to his cell phone? I thought that’s the number I dialed, dear.”

“Yes, ma’am, I’ll connect you right away.”

“Thank you.”

Jesus, the people working for him are as dumb as he is. The phone rings twice, and then he answers, “This is King.” His voice is so sexy on the phone, but I push away the thought.

What is wrong with me?

“King, it’s Ever, I need a favor.”

“Oh, do you now?” He’s cocky in his response, and I’m sure it’s because I wounded his poor ego this morning. “I thought you told me to never talk to you again.”

“Don’t be an ass. Can you help me or not?”

“What do you need?” He sounds agitated, almost like he doesn’t like it when others ask him to do something. He’d rather rule the world and make everyone kiss his feet.

“I need you to tell my boss that your friend called me a bitch and that’s why I reacted the way I did.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Because you owe me.”

“Nah, I don’t owe anyone shit.”

“Don’t play tough with me. Is it really that hard for you to do something nice for someone once in your life?”

“Really? I spent thirty g’s on bikes for you, talk about being nice.”

“Can you help me or not?”

“Okay, I’ll do it…on one condition.”

Motherfucker.

“Name it.”

“Go out with me. One date is all I’m asking for.”

I look up at the clouds rolling by and know one date is not fucking happening. Oil and water will never mix.

“Goodbye, King.”

I hang up, really only pissed at myself. I should’ve known better than to think he’d actually help me and not want something in return. King is the kind of guy who’s only out for himself. I’m sure, to him, I’m only a pawn in his game of life, and because I’m a challenge, he wants to capture me.