The next morning, I decided I needed to regain control of my life. Today, I would be cool, collected, and completely unbothered by him.
That resolution lasted until I went down to the laundry room.
I was loading my clothes into the washing machine when I heard the door open behind me. I didn’t even need to turn around. I already knew who it was.
“Well, well,” Charles’s deep voice echoed off the tiled walls. “If it isn’t my favorite angry neighbor.”
I turned slowly, trying to look unimpressed.
He was leaning against one of the dryers in a simple black t-shirt and sweatpants, holding a basket of laundry like some kind of arrogant laundry model.
“Don’t you have servants for this?” I asked sweetly. “Or do billionaires actually do their own socks?”
He grinned and started loading his mach
