The Suited Stranger

The second the velvet threat hung in the confined space of the vehicle, Cleo scrambled out of the luxury car as if her very life depended on it. She shoved the heavy door open and threw herself onto the damp, uneven pavement. Her frantic escape left a distinct, butt-shaped black paint smear right on the pristine, expensive leather passenger seat. The freezing night air immediately bit through her ruined, sticky clothes, sending deep shivers down her spine. The toxic smell of the industrial paint clung to her skin, making her feel dirty and miserable.

Vaughn watched her hasty retreat from behind the steering wheel. A rare, faint, and amused smile graced his usually stoic lips at the ridiculous sight of the black stain ruining his luxury upholstery. He turned the key, killing the engine. He stepped out of the vehicle smoothly, his expensive shoes tapping against the concrete. His long legs easily ate up the distance as he began to follow her toward the dilapidated apartment building.

Hearing his footsteps approaching, Cleo spun around in a panic. She threw her arms out, desperately trying to use her small frame to physically block his imposing path before he could reach the concrete stairs. "I am sharing rent with someone, and my housemate despises strangers coming over."

Her housemate, Tessa Carmichael, was an ordinary, low-level corporate employee cursed with an arrogant streak. Tessa constantly found ways to look down on Cleo’s budget lifestyle. Everything Tessa bought was high-end, and she never missed an opportunity to mock Cleo for eating cheap groceries and using discount skincare products. They shared a single bathroom, so Cleo knew exactly how much contempt Tessa harbored for anyone who could not afford luxury brands.

Vaughn merely brushed past her desperate blockade as if she were made of air. He did not even break his stride as he walked up the chipped steps. "What does her opinion have to do with me?"

Anxious and trembling from the cold, Cleo hurried after him. She fumbled with her keys in the dimly lit corridor, her fingers slick with wet paint, and unlocked the heavy door to their messy, cramped apartment. A pink floor mat with cartoon characters printed on it greeted his expensive leather shoes. She turned back to him, fiercely drawing a boundary to protect her fragile peace. "You must leave the second you finish your drink."

She expected the aggressive Tessa to throw a massive fit, exactly as she did whenever Corbin dared to visit. Glum, exhausted, and dripping with toxic paint, Cleo trudged straight to the cramped kitchen. She retrieved a cheap bottle of juice from the fridge that had expired half a month ago. She marched back into the living room and shoved the plastic bottle right into the billionaire's hands. She did not even bother finding a glass. Without waiting to entertain him, she immediately retreated into her small bedroom to urgently peel off her ruined, paint-soaked clothes.

Hearing the loud commotion in the living room, Tessa did not even bother leaving her bedroom before she started shrieking. Her shrill voice pierced right through the thin drywall. "Are you crazy, Cleo? Why did you bring that wild man here again?"

Moments later, the bedroom door flew open. Tessa angrily stomped out into the shared living space, wearing her expensive silk pajamas. She continued her loud tirade, marching forward with her hands on her hips, fully prepared to viciously confront her pathetic roommate. "If you have a problem with my rules, you can pack up and get lost right now!"

However, the aggressive, hateful words instantly died in her throat, choking her. She froze in her tracks, her eyes widening in sheer disbelief at the sight before her.

Sitting casually on their cheap, worn-out living room couch was none other than the supreme CEO of her own company, the untouchable billionaire Vaughn Lockwood. He looked wildly out of place in the shabby room. His tailored black suit and unbuttoned white shirt cuffs radiated a lethal, predatory grace that made the cramped apartment feel suffocating. The gap between his tailored pants and expensive shoes revealed a sliver of skin, a sight enough to fuel a woman's wildest fantasies.

The air in the room plummeted to freezing.

Vaughn spoke, his voice dangerously low. His eyes, as cold as twin glaciers, brutally pinned the woman down. "Did you call me a wild man?"

Trembling under his predatory gaze, Tessa went weak in the knees. All the women at the company dreamed of getting close to the elusive CEO, and her narcissistic imagination soared. A delusion took root in her mind, making her wonder if he had somehow noticed her out of the thousands of employees in the corporate building. She stammered pathetically, quickly running a hand through her hair to fix her posture. "Mr. Lockwood, what are you doing in such a dump? Are you actually here to see me?"

He stared impassively at the vain, trembling woman, his voice laced with absolute disgust. "You flatter yourself."

Unable to fathom the reality that the wealthy CEO was sitting on a cheap sofa for the broke Cleo, Tessa lingered awkwardly in the room. She stood rooted to the spot, shifting her weight from foot to foot, desperately hoping he would say something else to her. She refused to believe a man like him would ever look twice at a woman covered in cheap paint.

Vaughn slowly raised a finger, pointing sharply and commandingly toward her bedroom door. "It is late. You should go in and rest."

Tessa nervously tried to linger, eyeing the expired plastic juice bottle clutched in his large hand. "I am not tired, Mr. Lockwood. Let me brew you some expensive tea instead of that awful juice."

His eyes narrowed into dangerous, terrifying slits. The temperature in the room seemed to drop another ten degrees. The atmosphere turned lethal. "I told you to go in. Did I not make myself clear?"

Terrified out of her mind by the sheer aura of his murderous authority, Tessa scurried away like a frightened rat. She hid in her room, leaving the door open just a tiny crack so she could press her ear to the gap and eavesdrop.

Silence fell over the apartment, save for the ticking of a cheap wall clock. Growing quickly restless on the uncomfortable couch, Vaughn decided he had waited long enough for his host to return. Without a single knock or invitation, he set the expired juice bottle on the coffee table. He strode down the short hallway, pushed open Cleo's bedroom door, and stepped right in.

He caught her at the worst possible moment.

Cleo stood near her narrow bed with her back to the door. Her ruined, sticky clothes were already discarded on the floor in a messy heap. Her arms were raised behind her back, right in the middle of unclasping and pulling off a childish, pink, strawberry-printed bra.

Startled by the loud squeak of the door hinges, she froze in the awkward, compromising posture. Her fingers stalled against the fabric, caught between pulling it completely off or snapping it back into place.

Her face flushed scarlet as she glanced over her bare shoulder and realized who had just walked in. She quickly feigned a desperate calmness, yanking the strawberry-printed undergarment off entirely and frantically stuffing it out of sight beneath her pillow.

Amused by her intense, flustered embarrassment, Vaughn stepped fully inside the intimate space. His eyes traced the delicate curve of her spine. He reached back and deliberately clicked the bedroom door shut behind him, sealing them in the quiet room.

Before Cleo could even scramble backward to grab a fresh shirt from the mattress, he closed the distance between them. He reached out. His large hands gently but with terrifying firmness tugged her half-dressed body right into his hard arms.

Cleo shoved against his solid chest with all her meager might. Her bare palms pressed flat against the fine fabric of his suit jacket, pushing against the firm muscles underneath, but he remained an immovable wall.

Trapped helplessly in the dim, intimate shadows of her small bedroom, she could feel the intense heat radiating off his imposing frame. The heavy, sexually charged atmosphere wrapped around them, thick and suffocating. Her heart pounded erratically against her ribs as his dark, predatory gaze locked onto her exposed skin. The silence in the room amplified the sound of her ragged breathing. The dangerous proximity made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

Suddenly, the heavy tension was shattered.

The cheap smartphone resting on her wooden bedside table lit up the dark corner of the room. It began ringing incessantly, a loud, cheerful tune that ruined the suffocating mood. The bright, flashing caller ID illuminated the narrow space between their bodies, casting a harsh glow over their tangled forms.

The screen displayed a single, glaring word: "Hubby".