I Hate you Mr. BILLIONAIRE

Evelyn

I grit my teeth as the noise from upstairs makes my temples ache.

The building is supposed to be soundproof, at least from what the agent told me when I came for the apartment tour, but now I'm sure he lied.

They always do—that's how they hook you in.

But who, in their right mind, would have a party going on until one am on a weeknight? In a high-rise building where other people live? No consideration for the neighbors, geez.

The level of noise and the hours they have been going at it—the stomping and the shouting, would put the best clubs in the city to shame.

Unfortunately, I'm the one bearing the brunt of it.

I was looking forward to getting all my stuff arranged and situated after working the entire day with the moving company. And now I can't think straight with all the noise, this is ridiculous.

I exhale, rubbing my temples and abandoning the DIY wall decor I've been trying to install for the last thirty minutes.

"Someone has got to do something, does no one else hear the racket," I murmur.

Marching to my bedroom, I throw on a long robe and slippers. Belting it tight, I storm out of my apartment, growing livid at the interruption.

As soon as the elevator doors open, I go down the hall, heading for the first door to my left, where it's obvious the noise is coming from.

I knock on the door.

No answer.

"Of course," I mutter angrily. "The music is so loud they can't hear me knocking."

Folding my hand into a fist, I rear back and reach out again, but my hand never makes contact with the door because someone chooses that moment to open it.

I nearly break my fall on the face of a blonde woman blowing bubbles with her gum. She doesn't even flinch.

As I gather myself, I see she has on a skimpy skirt with a halter top—at least what is left of the top.

"You here for the party?" She asks.

"No," I shake my head. "Are you the tenant here?"

She frowns as if comprehending my question is complex.

"What?"

"Do you live here?" I raise my voice. "I'm looking for the person who lives here."

It finally registers with her, and she nods.

"Connor! You want to see Connor. Come in, he's somewhere inside."

I jerk back when she tries to take my hand, shaking my head.

"If you don't mind, I'd rather wait out there. Please tell him I'd like to speak with him."

She shrugs, blowing and popping.

"Suit yourself, I'll let him know."

She continues to stand there so I feel the need to explain why I am here. "Can you tell him it's his neighbor who lives downstairs? It's about the noise."

Blonde looks miffed for a second before she closes the door with a loud slam. Rolling my eyes, I rest my back on the wall, prepared to spend some time waiting.

But to my surprise, the door opens minutes later, and a man's head peeks out.

"Neighbor?"

This must be Connor.

First, look at the man, he's a specimen; tall and well-built. He looks like a reasonable person with a good head on his shoulders. He's about six foot or so but I notice he is wearing a knitted sweater, which seems odd—who wears a knitted sweater at one in the morning? Aside from that, the man is... did I mention he is handsome? Because he is gorgeous. He has striking blue eyes, a perfect nose, a chiseled jawline and to top it all off a beautiful mop of dark hair. I bet he doesn't have to spend time trying to get his hair to cooperate in the morning, it looks perfect.

"Hi," he says, smiling.

His smile is the friendly kind that would melt ice instantly, bringing a smile to my face, too.

"Hello. Are you Connor? Some blonde woman said she would get Connor; he's the one who lives here?"

He nods and stretches out his hand. I accept the handshake. His hand is big and warm and I flush instantly.

"Yes, I'm Connor. And you must be the person who just moved in below?"

I nod. "I am."

He nods, his bottom lip jutting out a tiny bit. "Nice to meet you. I heard someone might be moving into that apartment, but I didn't think it would be so soon. I thought the building manager told me there was a lot of work to do when the previous tenant left."

"Like soundproofing? I guess they left that out." Despite my promise to be polite, I cannot keep the bite from my tone. I try again.

"Which leads me to the reason for my visit. There must be an issue with the soundproofing because I was told the building was...you know...Uhm," I smack my lips, "the noise coming from your apartment is making it hard for me to sleep or basically function in general. I can hear every thump and stomp, and the music is really, really loud."

I don't tell him that it is making it hard for me to arrange and rearrange my furniture because I'm not trying to look like a crazy woman.

"Oh," his eyes widen a fraction. "Oh. That. I'm sorry. I have a party now and then, but the person who used to live below didn't seem to mind. I think he traveled a lot or something. But we're about to wrap things up in, let's say...an hour. Say, why don't you come in and join us?"

What? Does he see that I am wearing a robe?

"You want me to come in and join the party, in a robe and slippers?"

He nods, utterly oblivious to my tone of disbelief or my dress. Or he's ignoring it. Either way, he adds a casual shrug.

"Yeah, sure. The party is almost over, but there is still plenty of food and drinks left."

My eyebrows almost form a unibrow as I thrust my hands on my hips.

"Connor, right?"

He nods as the corner of his mouth tilts slightly.

"I came here to tell you that the music is too loud, your guests are too loud, and I need you to do something about it. I want the party to end if you didn't get the message from the get-go," I bite.

The smile falls immediately.

"You want me to tell everyone to leave?"

I nod, "Now we are getting somewhere."

"I have a floor full of guests. I can't just ask them to leave," he says. "I'm sorry about the noise, but it will end in like twenty minutes. At the most."

Just when I thought we were making progress.

I sigh in exasperation. The music coming from the walls and the doors makes my head throb, and I press the back of my palm to my forehead.

"If it's going to end in twenty minutes, why not call it now? I'm sure most of them are drunk and ready to go home with the person they have been sucking face with all night. Save them and me the twenty minutes of waiting so I can get to sleep, please."

"I assure you that the party is still in full swing. You've waited this long; can't you bear it for another twenty minutes? And," he points to the door, "you could come in and maybe enjoy yourself. It looks like you could use it."

Is he mocking me?

I stand my ground. "I have let this go on long enough. I thought, at first, it was a small gathering, and after an hour or two, I'd get my deserved peace and quiet. But it's been going on for hours."

"I get that the person who lived in the apartment before me was super chill, but I'm not. You are creating a nuisance, and I am exercising my rights to tell you to end your party out of common decency."

Something crosses his face that I don't have time to read because it quickly disappears. Then the door opens, and the blonde from before appears.

"Connor, if you don't want your carpet ruined you'd better hurry in," she says, tugging his arm.

"Why don't you give me a minute, Veronica?" He says, not taking his eyes off mine. I glare at him. "My neighbor and I were just having a conversation."

"I'm sure that can wait," she says, barely giving me a glance.

The sound of glass breaking is so loud it has me wincing—and Veronica shrugging.

"That is the sound of every valuable thing you own going down," she says. "If you want my help, you should talk to your neighbor another time."

Then she looks at me again with disinterest. "Or she could join the party. There's room for more."

Connor shoots me an apologetic look before he lets Veronica drag him in, and the door slams in my face.

"What the hell?" I say in utter disbelief.

He did not just walk away, leaving me standing outside the door with no solution to a problem that he created.

No fucking way.

I stand there, seething for a couple of seconds before it dawns on me that I can fix the problem another way. Who says you have to be civil when you can exercise your rights the legal way?

Smiling deviously, I head downstairs to my apartment to get my phone.