The stench of the old apartment hit me as soon as we stepped through the gates. I had purposely kept the place unkempt, making sure Gabriel would see just how "bad" things were for me. His face twisted slightly in disgust, but he tried to cover it with a smile.
"You can't keep living here, Kiara," he said, shaking his head. "I'll send you some money to help you pack out of this place. You deserve better."
Yeah, right, I thought, suppressing the urge to roll my eyes. This was all part of his little act, playing the good guy while keeping me under his thumb.
He moved closer, his eyes softening, his hand reaching for my waist as if he wanted to pull me in for a kiss. I dodged it smoothly, stepping back with a small laugh. "Gabriel, let's not get ahead of ourselves," I said, brushing off his advance as casually as I could.
He chuckled awkwardly, clearly thrown off by my rejection but trying to play it cool. "Yeah, of course," he muttered, shrugging off his suit jacket. "Here, take this. It's chilly tonight." He draped the jacket over my shoulders, like some kind of knight offering protection.
I smiled, pretending to be touched. "Thanks, Gabriel. You're too kind."
As soon as he left, though, I felt a wave of disgust wash over me. The jacket smelled like him—too much cologne, too much pretense. I didn't even think twice before walking straight to the dumpster behind the building and throwing the jacket in.
I pulled out my phone, scrolling through the latest updates. As expected, the Williams family had already been fast at work to shut down the headlines I had orchestrated. I opened the first article that popped up:
"Williams Family Denies Heir Reinstatement Rumors"
Bristol—In a statement released earlier today, the Williams family has officially debunked rumors circulating about Kiara Williams being reinstated as an heir. Sources close to the family reveal that these claims are false and have no basis in reality. Kiara Williams was disowned several years ago, and the family has no plans to reinstate her. Any reports suggesting otherwise are purely speculative and untrue, according to a family spokesperson.
The piece was clinical, precise, and, of course, completely expected. They moved quickly to protect their image, just as I knew they would. But that was fine. Let them play their games. They had no idea what I had in store for them next.
I was just testing their programs and it was easy to get in.
I stepped into the elevator, feeling the buzz of adrenaline from everything that had happened today. As the doors slid shut, I leaned back, letting out a small sigh of relief. But then, my back pressed into something solid—someone.
"Oh, sorry," I said quickly, turning around to apologize.
But my heart stopped when I saw who it was.
Jason. In gym wear. His shirt clung to his chest, his dark hair slightly damp with sweat, and he was staring down at me with that familiar, unreadable expression.
"Oh. Oh shit," I muttered under my breath before I could stop myself.
Jason raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Nice to see you too, Kiara."
Jason leaned casually against the elevator wall, his smirk deepening as he caught the surprise in my eyes. I blinked, trying to compose myself. He shouldn't be here. I mean, Jason Cole—billionaire, CEO, big shot—living in this building? It didn't make any sense.
"This isn't exactly your kind of place, Mr. Cole," I said, eyeing him up and down. "I mean, no offense, but you don't strike me as the type to live somewhere where the walls smell like mildew and the pipes groan like they're about to explode."
His smirk widened, and he shrugged, completely unbothered. "What can I say? I like to keep things interesting."
I crossed my arms, trying to suppress the irritation bubbling inside me. The nerve of him.
He had to be here for some other reason—maybe a secret gym, or maybe he was slumming it to blend in with the commoners.
Whatever his reason, he was pissing me off just by standing there, looking too comfortable in this dingy elevator.
"So, you live here now?" I asked, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "Or is this just a temporary stop on your way to another private jet?"
Jason chuckled, his eyes never leaving mine. "I live here. Penthouse. Top floor."
Of course he lived in the penthouse. It made me hate him even more. This place wasn't good enough for him. It barely felt good enough for me half the time, and I was playing the role of a struggling nobody. But Jason? He was supposed to be in some mansion, surrounded by luxury and servants, not lurking in some middle-tier building like he belonged here.
Maybe he did. Gosh why do I hate him so much?
"What's the matter, Kiara? Thought you were the only one slumming it?" he teased, crossing his arms. "Or are you still sore about the flowers?"
I stiffened, my jaw clenching. Oh, he had to bring that up. "You mean the flowers you so graciously decided should be thrown in the trash? Yeah, still pissed about that."
Jason raised an eyebrow. "I was doing you a favor. You don't know who sent them."
I scoffed, rolling my eyes. "And you don't get to decide what's an 'eyesore' in my life, Jason. You're not the boss of everything."
He tilted his head, that damn smirk never leaving his face. "Not everything, no. But in my company, I am and I don't like flowers."
I could feel my hands itching to slap that smirk right off his face, but instead, I smiled sweetly. "Good for you. But here's a newsflash, boss—this is my life, not your company. Keep your control-freak tendencies to yourself."
The elevator dinged, finally arriving at my floor. I stepped out without another word, but not before giving him one last look—straight into those smug blue eyes of his.
And then, as the doors started to close, I didn't even hesitate. I raised my hand and flashed him a middle finger, my expression completely deadpan.
Jason's eyes widened in surprise, and for the first time tonight, I saw his smirk falter. The doors sealed shut between us, and I let out a satisfied breath. Finally.
"Jackass."