I stop in front of the elevator.

  Maybe I don’t hate Asher. I’m not going to keep punishing him for what he did that night five years ago. But I’ve learned my lesson. I’m not going to let myself fall for Asher Hawthorne again. He may be hot and smart and maybe he’s not completely heartless, but he’s still all wrong for me, which is why I’m going to stay away from him from now on. I’m going to have my guard up at all times and keep things strictly professional between us in the office, and as soon as I’m out of that building, I’m going to stop thinking about him. No more fantasies.

  The elevator doors open and I step through them. Only the operator, Mitch, is inside.

  “Good evening, Ms. Cleary,” he says as he presses the button for the thirty-fourth floor.

  “I think it will be one,” I reply.

  I’m going to take a shower, listen to some music while cooking dinner, watch a bit of TV while eating, and then go to bed without a care in the…

  “Hold it, Mitch!”

  A hand slips between the doors just before they close. Mitch presses the button and they open, giving me a clear view of the man standing outside. My jaw drops.

  Asher?

  “Violet?” He gives me a puzzled look as he steps inside. “What are you doing here?”

  I could ask him the same thing.

  “I… live here.”

  “Oh. Really? So do I.”

  What? I didn’t know that. Stella didn’t tell me about it. Besides, I’ve never seen him here before, though I guess it’s entirely possible for two busy people not to bump into each other even if they’re living in the same building.

  Still, I don’t like the fact that we’re living in the same building one bit. But I do love my apartment, so as long as he stays out of my way, then…

  “You didn’t ask Mitch to press the button for your floor,” Asher points out.

  I look at the button for the thirty-fourth floor. It’s still lit.

  “Oh, but I did. I…”

  I stop as I realize none of the other buttons are lit, which can only mean one thing. No way.

  Mitch chuckles. “Congratulations. It looks like you’ve finally met your neighbor.”

  What the hell?

  Chapter Five

  Asher

  “I want her out of The Mistral by tomorrow,” I tell Ethan as soon as I find him in his office at the mansion.

  He puts down the piece of paper he’s holding and lets out a sigh.

  “Who did you sleep with this time?”

  I frown. “What?”

  “The last time you asked for someone to be kicked out of The Mistral, it was a woman you slept with,” Ethan reminds me.

  I remember. “A woman who turned creepy and started stalking me.”

  After our one-night stand—and I did make it clear to her that that was all it was—she made it a habit to camp outside my apartment. She would even ambush me whenever I was in the pool or the gym. Worst of all, once while my apartment was being cleaned, she snuck inside and hid in my bathroom, popping up just when I was about to take a shower. I sued her for trespassing and had Ethan kick her out of the building.

  “You do have that effect on some women, don’t you?” he says. “So, who did you turn into a creep this time?”

  “Nobody,” I answer. “I haven’t slept with anyone staying at The Mistral since then.”

  “Wow.” Ethan’s eyebrows arch. “Maybe I should give you a cookie.”

  I ignore his remark and draw a deep breath.

  “I’m talking about Violet Cleary.”

  Ethan’s expression turns serious. “Did you sleep with Violet Cleary?”

  Did he not hear what I just said?

  “No, but judging from your question, I’m guessing you know she lives at The Mistral.”

  “I do.”

  “And do you know she’s my neighbor?”

  He pauses a moment. “I do.”

  I give him a puzzled look as I cross my arms over my chest. “Didn’t you warn me to stay away from Violet Cleary? And yet you’re okay with us being neighbors? What is this? Some kind of test?”

  Ethan goes through the papers on his desk. “It’s nothing personal, Asher. Violet Cleary is the top executive we gained from the Odermatt acquisition. She needed a place to stay. I felt it was our responsibility to find her one, and the apartment next to yours just happened to be the best option.”

  “Bull.”

  Ethan narrows his eyes at me. “I thought you’d be thrilled. Why aren’t you? Is it because of your new rule about not sleeping with women who live at The Mistral?”

  “You don’t have to worry about that. Violet may be attracted to me, but she’s determined not to have sex with me, not after she nearly did at a party years ago and I went home with another woman.”

  Ethan’s eyebrows furrow. “Wait. You had met before Zurich?”

  “Yes. At Wharton.”

  “And you were dating?”

  “We only went out once and like I said, that ended disastrously.”

  “And you never thought to tell me?”

  “I didn’t think it was any of your business,” I answer.

  “The women you sleep with aren’t my business either, but you tell me about them anyway,” he points out. “Or is it because you didn’t sleep with her? That’s why you didn’t tell me?”

  “I never thought I’d see Violet again,” I tell him. “I didn’t even recognize her when I met her in Zurich.”

  “You didn’t?”

  “She had contacts on. And you know how I am about names.”

  “I see.”

  “Anyway, she hates me. She’d sooner hurl herself over a cliff than sleep with me.”

  “I can see why.”

  “Then you can see why I can’t live with her.”

  “You’re not living with her, Asher,” Ethan says. “She’s your neighbor.”

  “Exactly. We live in the same building. On the same floor. I can’t have that.”

  “Because?”

  I raise my shoulders. “I already told you. She hates me.”

  “Lots of neighbors hate each other.”

  I let out a breath of exasperation. “Ethan.”

  He taps his fingers on his desk. “You know what? I don’t understand. You say she hates you, but you’re the one who’s here asking for me to kick her out of the building.”

  “Would you want to live next to someone who hates you?” I ask him. “Anyway, just find her a new place.”

  I turn towards the door.

  “It hurts, doesn’t it?” Ethan speaks. “Seeing someone you want every day, knowing you can’t have her.”

  I glance over my shoulder. “Yeah. I know that’s how you used to feel. But I had nothing to do with that. Besides, you’re not suffering anymore, okay? So just spare me the pain.”

  “I can’t.”

  What?

  “You already dumped her on me at work. I already have to suffer at work. Can’t you let me have some peace after work?”

  Ethan shrugs. “You can find your own place if you really want.”

  And leave all my stuff behind? Give up that amazing pool on the rooftop? And the gym that I helped design?

  “No.”

  “Then stop whining like a child and just grow up and deal with it, Asher.”

  My jaw drops. Didn’t he hear a word of what I just said? I came all the way here just to ask for his help. I poured my heart out to him. And this is how he treats me? I’m his brother, for fuck’s sake.

  “I’m busy.” Ethan turns back to his papers. “Are you staying for dinner?”

  My jaw clenches. “Fuck you.”

  I leave his office and slam the door behind me.

  I should have known Ethan wouldn’t help me. Ever since he got himself a pregnant girlfriend, he’s stopped caring about me and Ryker. Well, he can shut himself in his office and rot behind his desk for all I care.

  I scratch the back of my head as I walk down the hall. When I see Stella, I stop.

  Has she been out here the whole time? Did she hear my conversation with Ethan? It doesn’t matter.

  I keep walking, but Stella follows me.

  “I’m sorry, Asher. I didn’t know about your past with Violet when I put her in the apartment next to yours.”

  So she was listening. Wait. She said she put Violet in the apartment next to mine?

  I look at her. “Why did you?”

  Stella shrugs. “Because you looked like you really wanted to be with her and I thought maybe if she had the chance to get to know you, she’d like you, too.”

  “Well, now that you know she already knows me, maybe you can put her somewhere else?”

  “Does she? Really know you, I mean. You said you only went out with her once.”

  “Well, that was enough for her to hate me.”

  “She hates you for what you did, but maybe if you do other things, if you give her a reason to like you…”

  “Look, Stella.” I put my hands up. “I know you’re just trying to be nice here, but I’m telling you it’s not going to work between Violet and me.”

  Her eyes narrow. “So you’re giving up?”

  I don’t answer. I guess that’s what I’m doing, but I don’t feel like saying it out loud.

  Stella draws a breath. “I know I’m prying, but hey, you didn’t exactly leave Ethan and me alone when we were starting out, did you?”

  True.

  She touches my arm. “You’re like a brother to me, Asher. I want you to be happy. And I’ve spoken to Violet. I really like her. And I think she’s lonely, too. I think the two of you would be good for each other.”

  She does?

  “Actually, you’re perfect for each other. You’re both good with numbers. You’re both out to prove something. You both have your walls up.”

  “Which is exactly why I’m never going to get through to her.”

  “But have you really tried?” Stella asks me.

  Again, I don’t answer. She takes my hand and squeezes it.

  “I just don’t want you to give up before really trying, Asher. If not for Violet then for yourself. I know you regret letting her slip through your fingers in the past. So don’t do it again. Try harder. Do better. I know you can.”

  And I can see the faith in her amber eyes. It makes me want to move mountains. Or at least want to lift a finger in an attempt.

  I let out a breath and squeeze her hand back. “Fine. I’ll try.”

  Stella rewards me with a radiant smile. “Good luck.”

  ~

  Here goes nothing.

  I draw a deep breath before ringing the doorbell. After a few seconds, the door opens. Violet stands in the doorway in a white sweater with the Monte Carlo Casino on it. It’s two sizes too big for her, falling off one of her shoulders to reveal the strap of a blue tank top. It reaches almost all the way to her knees, too, making me wonder if she’s wearing shorts underneath. Is she?

  She isn’t wearing any makeup, that’s for sure. And yet she looks just as attractive, if not more so. Younger, too. Her blue eyes look more vibrant, her cheeks fuller. Her mass of curls is held back by a cotton headband but a few short strands still dangle over her forehead.

  Somehow, I’m reminded of the first time I spoke to her in the library.

  “Can I help you?” Violet asks as she pulls her sweater up over her shoulder.

  Not the greeting I was hoping to hear. Even ‘Hi’ would have been preferable. ‘Can I help you?’ is usually reserved for people who knock on your door to ask for directions or sell something, people you weren’t expecting, people you’d rather not waste time on. But I guess it will have to do.

  “Hey.” I give her a smile. “I didn’t see you leave the office earlier. What time did you go home?”

  “Um…” Violet purses her lips as she fidgets with the neckline of her sweater. “Six?”

  I nod. “Anyway, I just wanted to give you this.”

  I offer her the box in my hands, which I didn’t have wrapped this time so she can clearly see what it is. She looks at it with creased eyebrows and reads the words on the cardboard.

  “Pancake molds?”

  “Yeah. They’re a welcome present. Or a moving-in present. Or a housewarming present. Whatever you call it. You know, the thing your new neighbor gives you after you’ve just moved into your new home.”

  Violet just keeps staring at the box.

  I extend my hand. “I promise the contents are…”

  “I can’t.” She shakes her head as she takes a step back. “I appreciate the gesture and all, but I can’t accept this gift.”

  I thought she’d say that. Still, I’m not backing down easily, not after Stella told me to really try to get through to Violet.

  “Why not?”

  “Because…”

  She clutches the front of her sweater as she searches for her words. The neckline dips and my gaze goes to the hollow of her throat. Pale. Smooth. Pristine. Exactly the kind of place I’d love to press my lips against.

  “Well, because I don’t make pancakes,” Violet says.

  Liar. “Really? Because I’m pretty sure that’s what I smelled when I passed by your apartment last weekend.”

  Her eyebrows arch. “What time?”

  “Around 2 A.M.”

  She looks away and purses her lips. Yup, that’s the look of someone who’s been caught lying. But I’ll let her off the hook this time.

  “They smelled good, by the way,” I simply add.

  She touches the nape of her neck as she meets my gaze for a second, a tentative smile on her lips.

  “Th–Thanks.”

  “Maybe next time you make them, you can use the molds. Or not. It’s your choice. Either way, I’m sure you make great ones, so if you have a hard time finishing them, you can invite me over and—”

  “No.” Violet shakes her head.

  “Okay. You can finish them all and—”

  “We can’t do this,” she cuts me off. “It’s not right. You’re my boss.”

  “I’m your neighbor, too.”

  “Well, you don’t have to be. I mean, you don’t have to act like one.” She fidgets with the front of her sweater. “We already have to… endure each other’s company at work. We don’t have to do that when we’re here. We can just pretend we’re strangers. We don’t have to check up on each other. We don’t have to cook for each other or exchange recipes or ask for ingredients or feed each other’s pets or invite each other for drinks or stop by for chats or any of that stuff that neighbors do.”

  I stay silent. I’ve only been half listening, the other half of my attention drawn to Violet’s slender fingers. I never noticed she had such graceful hands or that she has a tiny tattoo on her wrist—an inverted capital letter E followed by three dots forming an invisible triangle and then the infinity symbol. A trio of mathematical symbols. Interesting.

  I’ve been with women with tattoos, some of whom liked to show theirs off and brag about how profound they were, but this is the first time I’ve seen this kind of tattoo. What’s even more interesting is that I, too, have a mathematical symbol tattooed on my back.

  Stella’s right. Violet and I are perfect for each other.

  “Say something,” she urges me.

  I meet her gaze. “Do you know that you talk too much when you’re anxious?”

  Her blue eyes grow wide. I’m guessing she doesn’t.

  “I do not,” Violet protests.

  “Yes, you do. You remember at Finley’s party when you were talking to Ron Lenning, one of the President’s former financial advisors? You couldn’t stop talking about his economic policies and programs. And when we met the author of your favorite book—What was his name again?”

  “Godwyn Klein.”

  “You practically quoted a whole paragraph he wrote.”

  Violet frowns. “I did not.”

  “Yes, you did.”

  She sighs. “Fine. I talk a lot when I’m anxious. Happy now?”

  I chuckle. “Don’t worry. You still look hot even when you talk a lot.”

  Her eyes narrow. “Are you making fun of me?”

  “And when you’re angry.”

  She puts her hands on her hips. “You are making fun of me.”

  I’m not. I mean it. I don’t think I’ve ever found her not hot, not even when she was talking trash about me at the café or when she gave me the cold shoulder in Zurich or when she was mean to me the day she arrived in Chicago. It doesn’t matter whether she’s oozing with confidence or a little frazzled, busy at a computer or staring into space, in a suit, in a dress or in a T-shirt and shorts. There’s just something about her that I can’t seem to resist.

  Even now, it’s taking all of my strength not to pull her into my arms and kiss her, claim her lips and drink her every breath until she’s reeling and stumbling back so I can whisk her off her feet and carry her to the bed.

  Fuck.

  “What are you looking at?” Violet asks.

  “You,” I admit.

  She blushes. Ah. She looks hot when she does that, too.

  Besides, blushing is a sign that I’m winning her over. Just a little more.

  I take a step forward. “You know when I first found you attractive?”

  Violet doesn’t answer, so I proceed.

  “Management Communication. That first meeting when Dr. Simmons asked us all to give a little speech about something we cared about. You were wearing a white blouse with a lace collar and pleats, puffy sleeves, black pants. You spoke about gender equality, how men still dominate the corporate workplace, how women can do just as well. Your passion was just… searing.”

  Her eyes widen slightly. I hold her gaze as I lift my hand to touch her cheek.

  “You know what I wanted to do then? This.”

  I lean forward and press my lips to Violet’s. No reaction. I kiss her more firmly as I stroke her cheek. Ever so slightly, she kisses me back. A thrill rushes down my spine. The box in my hand drops to the floor.

  I cradle her jaws with both hands as I crush her mouth. She clutches the front of my shirt. Over and over, our lips collide, and when she parts hers, I push my tongue in. It brushes against the tip of her tongue and heat sizzles in my veins.

  Damn, I want her.

  Suddenly, the hands on my chest try to push me back. She tries to pull her face away as well.