The Tenant (18+) (Sample)

One

Friday evening came around sooner than I'd have liked. When I wasn't packing and unpacking my things, I was fighting an internal battle on whether or not to call the whole thing off. Eventually it became too late to cancel, and I'd reluctantly hauled ass back to Christopher's apartment.

The closer I get to the front door, the more I begin to panic. This was a ludicrous thing to be doing, especially when I was attracted to the guy. If Tobias found out, I'd be at the receiving end of his big-brotherly wrath.

Knocking gently on the door, I hoped he wouldn't answer and that I'd be able to use his ignorance as an excuse to get out this weekend. The tables aren't in my favour, and swift footsteps sound from nearby the second my fingers connect with the knocker.

"Ashleigh," Christopher's haughty voice greets me. "This is a pleasant surprise."

"Surprise? You knew I was coming."

"On the contrary, I knew I'd invited you. I didn't know you'd have the balls to actually show up. Colour me impressed."

Red hot heat crawls up my neck and into my cheeks. Would he have challenged me if he thought I'd really go through with this? My bag is heavy in my hand, taunting me for having worried myself over what was probably an empty invitation.

"I wouldn't have agreed if I had no intention of coming," I say with my best attempt at nonchalance. "Are you going to let me in, or am I going to stand out here all evening?"

Christopher wordlessly guides me into his apartment, the bitter cold nipping at my skin. The far end of the apartment is dominated by a curtainless window. It looks over Grosvenor Square, ablaze with artificial light from streetlights. A steady stream of people filter through the street below, their shoulders slumped with fatigue as they navigate a route thick with commute.

"What is it you do? Besides being a landlady, of course," Christopher asks as I watch the people below us.

"I'm a freelance artist," I say. Truth be told, it's a long fucking time since I'd finished a piece, or made any money from it. "And yourself?"

"I own a Stock Brokerage firm," he says. My lips part with a poorly timed yawn, eliciting a hearty laugh from him. "Yeah, it's as boring as it sounds."

"I've seen Wolf of Wallstreet. It sure doesn't look boring to me."

"If that's the experience of any true Stockbroker, point me in his direction. I could do with some tips."

Christopher's full lips lift to frame his pearly white teeth. It's the kind of infectious smile that catches like wildfire, and I smile back, my body flooding with warmth. I pull at the collar of my blouse, the room's temperature suddenly skyrocketing as I'm mesmerized by him.

Few people have had this sort of effect on me. I'm itching to get a little closer, my skin crying out for contact with his. I suppose it's where my life has been completely devoid of intimacy since I split with Ben a few months back. Being in the presence of such a man reminds me that I have needs.

"Are you hungry?" Christopher asks, snapping me out of my own head. He warms his fingers over a portable heater that does little to warm the large space. "I was just about to order in."

"I've already eaten, thanks," I say, my stomach growling to call me a liar. If Christopher hears, he ignores it. "If it's alright with you, I'd like to get set up in the guest room. I'm shattered."

"Sure."

There's something a little disconcerting about being in an apartment that I own but don't live in. I know where everything is, including the guest room, but I can't just as well walk around someone's else's home. Instead I allow him to show me to the room; it's an awkward affair.