The next morning, Annie cracked her eyes open. She needed last night to be a dream. She needed to have this house in her name, where Jericho couldn’t touch it. She closed her eyes, letting a low groan out of her mouth before rubbing her eyes with the back of her hands. It was still overcast outside, so dark the sun had no chance of peeking through. She liked to sleep in Saturdays and Sundays but her mind had woken up early thanks to the stress she was currently under, considering Jericho could kick her out at any moment. She refused to give up the last thing she had of her parents so easily to some corrupt businessman.

Deciding it was too early to think about Jericho without coffee, she forced herself out of bed. Her feet hit the floor and she stood, stretching as she did so.

However, there was something off, something she couldn’t quite pinpoint. Without thinking, she reached for her big overcoat and slid it on, heading down the stairs with the question in her mind. And then it hit her. It wasn’t cold.

The house Annie lived in had its own heater but Annie refrained from using it as often as possible because the energy bill would skyrocket if she did so. Though she did make a decent salary, she didn’t want to spend when she didn’t have to. This meant that when she woke up, she woke up to bitter mornings and always wore her overcoat when she made her coffee and ate her breakfast. It wasn’t until she took a hot shower did she finally get the opportunity to finally relax.

It was rare when Annie would use the heater and she knew she didn’t turn it on last night. Of course, she had been so pissed, she didn’t even eat dinner so she might have flipped it on in silent rebellion to everyone and everything. The heat did help her sleep better, considering she wasn’t layered with clothing, wrapped under three blankets, and shivering to keep warm. She had considered moving to warmer places like California but she would miss the rain too much. Plus, Bruce was here, and even though he was the last person she wanted to see right now, he was still her only brother. Her only family.

When she walked through the living room to get to the kitchen, she nearly had a heart attack. There, sitting at the small dining table tucked into the corner of the dining room, was Jericho himself, dressed in business casual clothing – dark jeans with one ankle resting on the other knee, a blue t-shirt hugging his broad shoulders and tight torso, a pair of Vans on his feet, and his blond-brown hair left messy (a word she never thought she would associate with him) – reading a newspaper with a cup of coffee next to his left hand.

He picked his eyes up from the paper and she stopped moving. She didn’t even step through the entranceway to the dining room. She was rooted to her spot because of that stare. It was almost as though she was some teenage girl sneaking out at night and she had just gotten caught. Except Jericho was only ten years older than she was, if that, and was the last person she thought of when the word family came to mind.

“What are you doing here?” she asked. At first, she felt guilty for sounding so blunt up until the point where she remembered he was in her home without warning, sitting at her kitchen table, like he owned the place. And maybe, technically, he did but he wasn’t allowed in her home. There had to be some rule that prevented the owner to show up and disturb the tenant.

“In case you forgot,” he drawled slowly, the silky tone wrapping around her body like ribbon, “I happen to own this residence now.”

Annie pressed her lips together, giving herself a moment to respond. “I know,” she finally said. “I know. It’s just…” She didn’t like being nice if she didn’t have to, especially with someone who clearly thought they were entitled to just take what he wanted without really asking first. “If the gossip magazines are to be believed, you own a penthouse in Seattle and a mansion in the suburbs. Why are you in some three-bedroom, single-family home?”

His lips spread out into a smile. Annie thought it was similar to the way a predator might regard its prey just before it was about to pounce. “If the gossip rags are to be believed, I would have three children by four different women, a gay relationship with one of my security guards, and a different woman on my arm every week. Only one of those things is true.”

Annie rolled her eyes as she crossed her arms over her chest. The last thing she wanted to talk about with this man was his reputation with the women.

“However, I do have my penthouse and I do have my suburb home,” he said with a nod. “I just decided that I’d prefer the quaintness Eastvale offered, rather than the elaborate scheme, the gated community, that makes up New Haven. My bodyguards hang around the house. I prefer to be alone.”

“Is that such a good idea?” Annie asked before she could stop herself, perking her brow. Her heart raced. She shouldn’t have said that. She shouldn’t have alluded to his criminal dealings – his alleged criminal activity. What if she wasn’t supposed to know things? What if he does something to her from opening her mouth? What if-?

“And why would you ask that?” he asked. He still had that sparkle that had occupied his eyes whenever he was around her. She wasn’t sure if he always had it. Most pictures depicted him as serious and brooding. Even when he was with beautiful women on his arm, he never smiled. It made him look intimidating, even though he wasn’t particularly tall. She wondered if he was manipulating her now or if he was letting his guard down with her for some unknown reason.

Did it even matter?

“I just figured,” Annie said, trying to find some logical explanation for her flippant comment that wouldn’t sound judgmental. “You’re an important person, I suppose, and-“

“Being alone with you would put me at risk for something?” he asked, slowly raising his right brow and keeping his eyes in hers. The corner of his lips quirked up into a smirk and he shrugged his shoulders. She had no idea how it was possible, but he made the gesture look graceful, elegant. “I suppose you could be right. I think I’ll take my chances.” He folded the newspaper and tossed it on the surface of the table. “Would you like breakfast? I make a mean scrambled eggs and sausage.”

“You’re going to cook for me?” she asked doubtfully. Annie still lingered by the entranceway of the dining room, hesitating. She was hungry but she wasn’t sure if she was actually comfortable sitting across the table from Jericho like this living arrangement was perfectly normal.

“I am capable of cooking,” he told her, standing up in one fluid motion. “You know, just because I own nightclubs doesn’t mean I don’t get my hands dirty when I need to. I can’t expect my employees to do something I refuse to do. That wouldn’t be fair. As a leader, I am expected to set the example and I take that very seriously.”

Annie’s breathing got shallow. Even though his words appeared normal and understandable, there was something more to them. Something deeper and lying in the spaces between.

“So.” He stood next to her cabinets and perked his brow. “Scrambled eggs and sausage?”

“We don’t –“ She had to clear her throat. “We don’t have sausage.”

Why had she said we? It was just her now. Bruce lived in some shitty apartment in the city, close to his job. Her parents were gone. It was just her.

“Yes, we do,” he said with a small smirk. “Once I took possession of the house, I had my employee fill the fridge. You will never have an empty fridge again, Ms. Brennan.”

“I can cook my own breakfast,” she told him. “Listen, are you going to, like, be here, now?” She placed her hands on her hips, trying to figure out a nice way to ask if she should expect him here now. “I just…”

“Have you ever lived with a stranger?” Jericho asked with a grin. He turned to open the fridge and pulled out eggs and sausage.

“Of course not,” Annie said.

“Ever brought one home?” he asked with a grin. “I’m sorry. That’s none of my business.” He reached up to grab a mixing bowl and then bent down to grab a pan. How the hell did he know the layout of her kitchen already? And it wasn’t as though he had switched things up to his liking, he had simply learned her layout and possibly added to it because she definitely didn’t recognize the stainless steel pan he had out. “Do you prefer your eggs with butter or oil? I know oil is probably healthier but there’s just something about butter… Why do the bad things always taste the best?”

Annie pressed her lips together. Another statement that probably meant three other things than what it sounded like.

Since she didn't know how to answer; she decided not to. 

"You can come in the kitchen, you know," he said slowly, glancing up at her as he proceeded to crack eggs into the mixing bowl. "I'm not going to bite you. And you never answered my question."

"I'm just confused as to what's happening here," she replied. "Do you live here now? Are you evicting me? Because let me tell you right now that I have no intention of leaving so easily."

Jericho's eyes sparkled with amusement. They were nearly as green as grass. "I didn't think you would," he told her. "To answer your questions, though, no, I am not evicting you. You've lived here your whole life and it wouldn't be fair to expect you to pack up now simply because your parents decided that the oldest sibling was the more responsible one and put his name on the deed of the house. I want you to stay. As for me living here, I would actually prefer it. I like the quiet and the solitude. My business is in the city but that's no place to raise a family."

"You want to raise a family," Annie said slowly, not quite believing him.

"Of course," he said, dropping his eyes down to the bowl. He grabbed a mixer with his right hand and proceeded to mix the eggs together. "Don't you?" He gestured at the table. "Sit and I'll explain." He cocked his head to the side. "Please?"

Annie rubbed her lips together. She tried to look away but was unable to. Instead, she slowly made her way into the kitchen and slid into a seat where she could keep an eye on him at all times. She didn't trust him here. She wanted to call the police and report him for trespassing but since her idiot brother decided to give him their house, she really couldn't do anything about it.

"I would like to leave a child my legacy," he continued, his eyes dropping to his bowl as he resumed his mixing. "Perhaps two, if I'm lucky. But first, I want to find the right type of woman to have children with."

Annie all but rolled her eyes. "Take your pick," she told him, staring at the newspaper and not him. Even so, she could feel his stare on her. "I'm sure if you mentioned your desire to settle down and start a family, the women would line up at your clubs just for the opportunity."

He smiled. "Perhaps," he said. "But the desire to procreate doesn't automatically translate into being a good parent or a good wife."

"Let me guess," Annie said. "You want to pop out as many kids as possible and have your wife stay home with them while you go out and make the money."

"Actually, I would want my wife to do whatever she wanted," he told her without a hint of irony in his tone. "I want her to put our family first, of course, just like I would. But it's important to me to show my children that you can do whatever you want. You can stay home as a boy and go to work as a girl and vice versa. To be honest, I would love to retire once I had kids and stay home. I have investments that would garner me more money so I would still have that but my main focus would be my family."

Annie looked at him like he wasn't quite real. And maybe he wasn't. He was currently pouring egg batter into a buttered pan, wearing a t-shirt and dark jeans. This was not the Jericho the public knew. Hell, she barely even knew him and yet he was in a rather vulnerable position. He was cooking in casual attire, his hair spiked and messy. He wasn't completely put together and it made him look... younger. 

"Is that a problem for you?" he asked, throwing a look over his shoulder at her before resuming his cooking.

"You can do whatever you want," she told him. "It makes no difference to me."

The two fell into a surprisingly comfortable silence. As the eggs fried, he poured them both two glasses of orange juice and set them down on the table. Annie reached for hers, murmuring a gentle thanks before taking a long sip. She didn't have to leave for work for another hour and she liked the solitudes her mornings used to give her.

When he finished cooking, he placed a plate in front of her. The eggs and sausage looked cooked to perfection and even though she wanted to refuse it, her stomach rumbled in response, giving her away.

Traitor, she thought to herself.

She picked up the silverware and started eating. She didn't care. Her hunger had gotten the better of her and she had no choice but to give into the temptation. How could she not, when he sprinkled cheddar on the eggs? Cheese was probably her favorite thing and he used it to win her over. She didn't like that it was working. She didn't like that something like cheese could make her weak.

It was fucking delicious. She didn't like to swear that much; she didn't see the point, really, but goddamn, the food was amazing and the addition of juice just added to it perfectly.

They ate in silence and when she finished, she placed her fork on the plate and downed the rest of her juice.

"Thank you," she said in a quiet voice.

"You're welcome," he told her. 

She shouldn't want to make conversation. She shouldn't care about him at all but there was something inside of her that wanted to know.

"Did your mom teach you how to cook?" she murmured. She slowly picked her eyes up the surface of the table in order to lock eyes with him. His eyes were already looking at her, which was no surprise. He seemed surprised she asked about him and that made her feel only slightly guilty. What did he expect, honestly? He was living in her home. Her entire world was turned upside down because of him.

Well, him and Bruce.

"Would it be snobby of me if I told you my maid taught me?" Jericho asked with a smile. "Helena was a Polish woman who knew how to cook everything and who put up with my parents and their ridiculous demands. She was the closest thing I had to a mother-figure since my mom buried herself so deeply in her work and my father ran his business. She told me I might not always be so blessed and it’s skill, rather than money, that will guarantee my success. She was right." He paused to take a bite of his food. Once he swallowed it, he continued. "Helena taught me how to cook. She taught me that cleanliness was next to godliness but that everything had its proper place, as in organization mattered. She said that it was important to be kind to others, especially those less fortunate. And the secret to being a good boss was having respect for my employees." He wiped his mouth with a paper napkin. "When people ask me how I came to be so successful, I tell them it wasn't my father or my upbringing and it definitely wasn't my wealth. Helena shaped my business mentality. I would have no idea where I'd be without her guidance."

"You're an only child?" Annie asked, perking her brow.

Jericho nodded once. "There wasn't a lot of love between my parents," he said. "They produced their male heir, so to speak, and after that, there was no need to force physical contact if they didn't have to. My father got that from a string of mistresses, my mother got that from a bottle of pills and the pool boy. The minute I could get away from them, I did. I went to college and then got my Masters at Cambridge because I couldn't stomach the thought of going home. I only returned after I found out my father was sick. And my mother died a short time after he did. I was never really close to them and they were never really close to me. For the longest time, Helena was my only friend." His voice sounded far away, his eyes not staring at Annie, but off into the distance. "How sad is that?"

"It sounds lonely," she murmured without thinking. Immediately, she looked up. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"No," he said, shaking his head. "You're right. It was lonely. Even at school, people hated me because of who my father was or loved me because of my legacy. No one really knew who I was. No one really cared about me. So I embraced the solitude." He shrugged. "It's why I don't like the city. If I'm going to be alone, I'd rather be alone. Not surrounded by a group of people only there to kiss my ass."

Annie nodded but didn't say anything. There was too much there, too much that wanted to settle under her skin but she couldn't let it. She was starting to feel sympathy for Jericho, for the man behind the mogul, and that was the last thing she wanted to feel. He was a criminal, she had to remind herself, a criminal that partook in acts of violence without hesitation. Yet, as he stared at her across the dining table, he looked like nothing more than a man. A beautiful one with a tragic past but a man nonetheless.

"What about you?" he asked, scrunching his brow slightly, making him look adorably pensive.

No. Adorable was the last word that should come up when discussing Jericho. And yet... somehow, it fit. There was no other word that accurately described him so she decided to go with it. Because she didn't really have a choice not to.

"What about me?" she asked, cocking her head to the side.

"You look nice," he said, his eyes dropping to her attire but not in a solicitous way. Almost immediately, he picked them back up and held onto hers. "Your brother said you're an accountant in the city?"

She wore a white pencil skirt that clung to her body and a flattering lace black sleeveless shirt that scooped just below her collarbone. Her hair was pulled into a high, tight ponytail so no stray strands were allowed to frame her face. Her makeup was light and she wore black high heels.

A flare of anger sparked up at the reminder that Bruce had a big mouth but she tried not to let it show. It wasn't Jericho's fault that Bruce told him anything. Jericho might not have helped the situation but Bruce was a grown man who could make his own choices. As far as she knew, Jericho hadn't forced the situation.

"I am," she said.

He paused, crossing his arms over his chest and peering at her. "You don't like talking about yourself very much, do you?" he asked.

Annie shrugged. "I don't see the point," she said. "I'm not very interesting."

"I beg to differ," Jericho said. "The fact that you aren't like other women who won't shut up about themselves makes you more intriguing. It makes me want to ask you more about yourself."

Annie didn't know what to say. She wished she hadn't finished her food as fast as she did so she could pick at it or shove some in her mouth so she would have a reason not to answer. Instead, she stared at him like an idiot.

"You're guarded," he stated. "I suppose I can understand. I'm a stranger living in your home."

"So you are living with me," she said. "And you admit that it's my home."

"I wouldn't presume to make you leave," he told her. "I like it here. The mansion is too big, it’s overwhelming. This is quaint and comforting. So yeah, I'm living here. If that's okay with you."

"It really doesn't matter what I want," Annie pointed out. "I could tell you to leave but you won't. This is your place thanks to my idiot brother. What I say, my opinion, doesn't matter."

"That isn't true," Jericho told her, his eyes a grass-green color, the kind that was both intense and serious, as though he wanted her to understand that what she was saying was the truth. "Your opinion does matter. I like to hear what your thoughts are on everything, really."

"And why is that?" Annie asked, raising a skeptical brow. She leaned back in her chair, waiting for his response. "You and I are strangers. We don't know anything about each other."

"That's exactly my point," he said. "I would love to hear what you have to say, even if you and I won't agree. Which we won't about a lot of things. But that's what makes things interesting, right? Respectful discord." He smiled at her. "You aren't like anyone I've ever met before. It's why I'd like to know more about you."

"Okay," Annie said. "I don't understand you. I don't understand your decision-making process at all. I don't understand your choices. So it doesn't matter what I say because you'll make your choices and I won't understand them and I don't want to be exhausted by trying to understand your logic."

"I think you're just writing me off," he said, "and that isn't fair."

"Fair?" Annie asked, furrowing her brows. "You want to talk about fair? How about Bruce not giving you any consideration when he offers up a home his sister still lives in? It's the only home I've ever known. Even when I went to college, I still lived at home so it would be more cost effective for me and my parents. And now that's taken away from me because my brother thinks he's some kind of entrepreneur and invests forty-six grand in some kind of cabin in the woods he thinks is going to retire him. On some kind of whim, he decides to borrow money because you go around asking your employees how they're doing and how they can help."

"I'm sorry?" he guessed, perking his brow. As though she was looking for some kind of answer from him when the truth of the matter was she would prefer it if he didn't talk at all.

"That isn't fair," she continued. "And instead of just letting me live here like some kind of tenant and letting me buy my parents' home, you decide you want to move in and be here."

"I won't be here all the time," he told her. "I'm not charging you rent. I took over the mortgage when your brother transferred the deed to me, which I will pay off today, when I go into the city. You will retain the same rights you've always had - your privacy. I will take responsibility for all the bills relating to the house including the energy bill, the cable and internet bill, the water bill, the trash bill. All you have to worry about is your cell phone bill, though if it would appease you, I would pay for that as well."

“You already told me this last night,” Annie pointed out.

“I know,” he said. “I just want to reiterate it because I think it’s important.” He rubbed his lips together. “What time do you leave for work?”

Annie glanced at her cell phone. “I’ll probably go up and brush my teeth in a few minutes,” she told him.

He nodded. “Did this help you at all?” he asked, gesturing to the empty plates of food. “I know my presence here isn’t exactly something you would want. I get that. But I’m trying to help in any way I can.”

“You want to help?” Annie asked doubtfully. She stood up and took her plate and cup so she could put it in the sink. She would do the dishes when she got home. “Then let me be. Let me live in my house alone.”

Jericho clenched his teeth together. She didn’t want to admit it but he looked like he was genuinely sorry. And, she had to admit, he hadn’t asked for the house, Bruce had offered it to him. The problem was, it was worth way more than fifty grand, which made Bruce look like an even more inexperienced dumbass. But maybe it didn’t matter because interest mattered. And Jericho could do whatever he wanted. No one could fight him on it.

“Maybe there’s some sort of compromise that we can work out that would benefit both of us,” he said slowly, standing as well. “I’m open to hearing your thoughts but you should know I have no intention of leaving, even though I can see that’s what you really want. And I’m sorry for that. But maybe we can talk about it later.”

Annie clenched her teeth together. She wanted to argue. She wanted to tell him besides leaving, there was nothing he could do that would benefit the both of them. There was no compromise she could think of that would work for her besides him leaving and giving her ownership of the house. She didn’t even care if he required her to pay him back. She would do it, just as long as she had this house.

“I’m not entirely opposed to that,” he said slowly. “It would be selfish of me to keep something you want, something that belonged to you in everything but name. But I would require a week or two to consider it. And even then, I can’t guarantee that I’d agree. But I’m open to it.”

Annie nodded once, a short jab of her chin. That was the best she could hope for, if she was being honest. There was nothing more she could do or say, so she proceeded to head out the kitchen entranceway. At the last minute, however, she stopped.

“Thank you for breakfast,” she murmured. Without waiting for him to respond, she exited the room, ready to brush her teeth and get to work.

--

Her small accounting firm was a twenty-minute drive into the city. There were only four other people who worked there, so the environment was intimate and small. Annie actually preferred it this way. Unlike most small businesses, this firm was run by a singular owner rather than a family, so no one was actually related. On top of that, everyone kept a respectful distance. Things were professional, rather than personal. There was no gossip, no drama. All in all, it might not be the highest paying position she was offered and the benefits weren’t the best, but it was a nice place to work.

She parked her car in an Employees-Only section of the parking structure located behind the building her firm was located in, which was on the second-to-last floor of the structure. This forced Annie to walk in her heels to the elevator, taking the elevator down all the way to the first floor, walk into her building, take the building’s elevator up to the second floor, and walk down a long, twisty hallway until she got to suite H. Typically, she didn’t mind it. The events from the past twenty-four hours, however, caused most tasks to sour quickly.

When she saw down at her small cubicle, she leaned her head against the chair, staring up at the ceiling and wondering how the hell she ended up where she was in this moment. It wasn’t all her, of course. If she had known the deed didn’t have her name on it, she would have demanded Bruce put her on there as half-owner. She didn’t like to be responsible for things that weren’t actually hers. More than that, she was furious that Bruce had let her believe the house was partially hers, something she shared with her brother. She still didn’t understand why her parents wouldn’t put her name on the deed, just to protect her. Especially since Bruce wasn’t reliable – and they knew that!

She needed coffee. Now.

After grabbing a cup of Kona with a large amount of cream and sugar, she was finally able to log in and start working.

Her phone chirped at just after eleven.

Her brows furrowed together. No one really texted her during the day. Her friends all had demanding jobs, just like hers was.

Who could be texting me now? she wondered.

She unlocked the screen and it went to her texts.

Bruce, she thought. What could he want?

Hey, I know you’re mad. But will you meet me at The Red Door next week? I need your help with something.

No apology. No acknowledgment of fault. Nothing.

She nearly threw her phone at the wall.