Wrong for Me: An Enemies-to-Lovers Billionaire Romance Page 3

  “Like I said, it’s wide open. It’s not my fault you’re acting like an idiot for all the world to see. If it had been closed, I wouldn’t have looked.”

  “Listen—”

  “No, you listen,” she said fiercely, in a demanding tone that made something inside of me stir, something that vaguely wondered if she was always this fiery, if she would react with this sort of ferocity if I touched her. I shook my head of the thought—right now, she wasn’t sexy, she was just plain irritating. “Keep it down at night, or else I’ll go to the landlady.”

  I laughed. “Tattletale.”

  “What are you, ten?” she asked, rolling her eyes.

  I shook my head at her. “No, but—”

  I was interrupted when the smoke alarm went off in the kitchen. I cursed, shooting a look at the woman before shutting the door in her face. I turned and went into the kitchen to see smoke billowing out of the oven, my sister coughing and covering her nose and mouth with her hand. The pie inside the oven was completely black, and my eyes were starting to water with the density of the smoke. I rushed to open a window, fanning the smoke out of the room, coughing and shooting an annoyed look at my sister.

  “I thought you knew how to bake a pie,” I said.

  “Nope. I told you that I don’t know how to bake a pie,” she said with a grin, pulling it out of the oven. “Hungry?”

  I laughed. We threw the pie away and hung out for the rest of the night on the couch. She kept drinking, but I had given up—my head was filled with thoughts of the neighbor girl and the angry look on her face, how irritating she had been, yet sexy at the same time. I thought about her still after Trixie left and I was alone in bed, and only fell asleep after I allowed myself to imagine what it might be like to wipe that angry look off of her face and replace it with nothing but pure pleasure.

  I woke up the next morning to the sound of knocking on my door; I dragged myself out of bed, not bothering to throw on a shirt before answering it, still half-asleep. I regretted it when I saw my landlady there, a much older woman named Esther. When she saw me, she smiled—Esther loved me already and had since the moment I’d walked into her leasing office.

  “Hi, Esther,” I said to her, smiling warmly. She gave me a shy look.

  “I hate to have to tell you this, because I know you’re celebrating your new place, but I’m going to have to ask you to keep the noise down at night from now on,” she said regrettably. “I had a complaint from—”

  “Yeah. Girl next door,” I said, gritting my teeth, filled with irritation at my nosy new neighbor. “I’m sorry. I’ll keep it down from now on. I’d hate to make anyone uncomfortable.”

  I held her eye as I spoke and she blushed, glancing away from me before looking at me again.

  “I don’t think you could make anyone uncomfortable, Mr. Norton—”

  “Please, call me Tyler,” I said, giving her a grin that I had a feeling would suit her. She smiled back at me, giving me an adoring look.

  “Tyler,” she said. “You’re a perfectly comfortable man. She’s just a quiet girl. Try to keep it down. I’d hate to have to give you a written warning.”

  Anger flared through me at the thought of that, having a strike on my record here just because the woman next door couldn’t mind her own business and keep her mouth shut.

  “I’ll be good,” I promised her. She grinned at me one more time and disappeared, leaving me alone and extremely irritated in my apartment.

  Chapter 6: Ali

  I was satisfied when I didn’t hear any noise coming from the man’s apartment when I got home the next day. It wasn’t as late as it had been the past two nights, but the quiet was nice, and I only hoped that it wouldn’t start up again before I fell asleep. I didn’t trust the man to obey the landlady’s orders at all—he seemed like the kind of man who usually got what he wanted, something that had been extremely obvious to me when I noticed his eyes looking me up and down. There had been a hungry look on his face, one that had made my body flush with desire despite my irritation with him.

  I was reading on my couch when the doorbell rang. I looked at the clock to see that it was about nine, and got up to answer it. Esther the landlady was standing on the other side.

  “Hi, Esther,” I said to her, smiling. I liked the old woman. She was sweet, and she didn’t mind if I got busy and forgot to pay the rent at the beginning of the month, because she always knew I would get it to her with a little prompting. She was a kind woman, easy to get along with, and I knew that she had taken my complaint about the neighbor seriously. Loud noise was not something she tolerated in her tenants.

  “How are you, Ali?”

  “I’m good. Having a night in,” I said to her, as if I ever had any other type of night.

  “Listen, I had a talk with Tyler, and I think that maybe you two just got off on the wrong foot. He seems like a wonderful man.”

  “What?” I asked, my brow furrowing. “On the wrong foot?”

  “He doesn’t seem to be a troublemaker. Not in my book. Maybe you two should get acquainted. I think that you’ll really love him.”

  “He—he’s—” I said, but cut myself off, unsure of what to say.

  “If he was a little noisy, he was probably just celebrating moving in. Do you know who he is? The big CEO of that magazine—Les Chic. Tyler Norton.”

  “Oh,” I said.

  “He’s very charming,” the woman gushed, and I realized then that the man had managed to captivate her and wrap her around his finger, just like he probably did with every other woman. I tried not to roll my eyes, but crossed my arms over my chest.

  “I see,” I said. “I guess I’ll have to give him another try.”

  “Do try, honey,” Esther said, putting her hand on my arm. I felt furious with her, deeply annoyed that she had let him get to her. I hated when women fell for someone all because of a sexy look and a charming smile. To me, it was irritating to watch men get by on half a personality just because they were good-looking.

  “Thanks for talking to him,” I said to Esther. She smiled at me, patting my hand with her own.

  “Take care, dear,” she said, and turned around and went into the elevator. I went into my apartment, huffing, filled with annoyance and nervous energy. I found myself pacing back and forth in my living room, furious just thinking about the fact that men like him—famous, rich, handsome—could get away with anything they wanted. I decided that I wasn’t going to let him charm me no matter what; I didn’t fall for that shit, not the kind of person to get distracted by a pretty face. And I was determined that I wouldn’t let him get to me or keep me up at night, no matter what I had to do.

  I sighed, my body filled with energy, and decided to go to the all-night grocery store. Sometimes, when I couldn’t sleep and it was too cold to walk outside, I went there and walked around, taking my time to buy groceries and imagining recipes that I could create with different ingredients. I got into the elevator, wrapping my coat around me, but before the door could close, Tyler stepped on with the same model-type woman beside him. He gave me a big, charming grin, his eyes meeting mine.

  “Good evening, ma’am,” he said to me in a dry voice, studying my face, a teasing look in his eyes. “How are you?”

  I didn’t answer him, though I couldn’t take my eyes away from his. I glared at him instead.

  “I had a good chat with Esther this morning. She seems to like me,” he said. I gritted my teeth, blushing deeply given the way he was looking at me.

  “Yeah, well, some people are easy to please.”

  The girl he was with snickered with laughter.

  “And some people are impossible,” he said. “But those people are bitter and miserable in general, don’t you think?”

  “Or maybe they just don’t like you?” I said. He laughed.

  “Everybody likes me,” he said. I groaned, relieved when the elevator door finally opened and I could hurry off, leaving him behind with his beautiful girlfriend.


  Chapter 7: Tyler

  I spent a lot of time away from the apartment, immersing myself in work. Fashion week was fast approaching, and we had a massive issue coming out, as well as people coming and going from New York City so quickly that I barely had time to keep up. Despite how stressed I was, I thrived in this environment—I loved when things were busy and the pressure was high, loved meeting and exceeding expectations that I had set for myself. I’d always been a hard worker, but that had become even more true once I’d started working for myself doing what I loved.

  I got home late at night one night to find the neighbor girl standing there waiting for the elevator. I watched her for a moment from behind, her hands on her hips, faint white flour handprints on her ass that I had to grin at. I knew that she was a chef and that her name was Ali, but so far that was all I had found out. I could smell the scent of her experimental cooking wafting through the air, coming into my apartment and making my mouth water. I rarely ever cooked for myself and mostly stuck to TV dinners, something that both Trixie and my mother often chided me for.

  “Hi, Ali,” I said to her as I came up behind her. She looked up at me and quickly looked away, as usual, not responding.

  “You really aren’t very nice, has anybody ever told you that?” I asked her as the elevator doors opened. We both stepped on at the same time, bumping into each other, and I put my hands on her arms to steady her once we were in the elevator. She stared up at me, her eyes on mine.

  “I don’t have to be nice to you,” she said, stepping back and pushing the button for our floor.

  “You don’t,” I said. “But you’re not making a very good impression.”

  She snorted. “Oh no. What ever will I do with myself?”

  “Hopefully relax and have a little fun once in a while,” I said. “Lighten up.”

  “I—” she began to say, anger on her face, but was cut off when the elevator jolted to a stop. She cursed and pressed the door button once, then again before stomping her foot on the ground.

  “What is it?” I asked, stepping toward to door.

  “It gets stuck sometimes,” she grumbled, and aimed a kick at the old metal door. I laughed.

  “Does that help?” I asked. She shot me a look. “How long am I going to be stuck here with you?”

  “Maybe ten minutes,” she said, sighing and leaning back against the elevator wall. She slid down and sat on the floor cross-legged, not looking up at me.

  “We should play a game in the meantime,” I said to her. She looked up at me, raising her eyebrows.

  “No,” she said.

  “You don’t even know what I have in mind.”

  “Probably something stupid,” she said. I laughed.

  “Do you have any friends?” I asked her. “I never see anyone coming or going from your apartment.”

  She glared up at me. “That’s none of your business.”

  “Why do I feel like that means the answer is no?”

  “Because you’re a dick,” she said. I dragged my teeth over my bottom lip, looking down at her. Her eyes were on mine, focused and determined, not looking away or wavering. They were so gorgeous—a vivid green, bright and angry.

  “I’m not as bad as you think I am,” I said to her. “You don’t even know me.”

  “I know exactly who you are.”

  “Yeah?” I asked. “Who’s that?”

  “Handsome, charming, rich—always gets his way. Hates it when people say no to him, especially women. You can’t stand the idea of a woman not falling on her knees for you.”

  “That’s not true,” I said to her, irritated at her accusation. A hint of amusement passed behind her eyes when she noticed that she had managed to irritate me a little bit, at least as much as she was. For some reason, that teasing little look made my body react, and for a moment the image flashed through my mind of wiping it off her face by taking her mouth in a hot, angry kiss.

  The elevator shuddered then, beeping and beginning to rise again. She sighed in relief and stood up, brushing past me off of the elevator and towards her apartment. She fumbled with her keys, dropping them, and I reached over to pick them up as she bent over. She straightened up and looked at me, her body close to mine, face only a few inches apart. For some reason, she blushed as I handed the keys to her.

  “Thanks,” she mumbled, disappearing inside of her apartment. I was still irritated with her but at the same time, somehow infinitely charmed as I went inside my own apartment.

  Chapter 8: Ali

  I blinked, stirring in my sleep, blinking rapidly. There was a siren blaring—the fire alarm—and it took me a moment to realize it. I slipped out of bed quickly, wrapping a robe around my body and putting on my slippers as I hurried out of the apartment. I couldn’t see smoke, but I could smell it, and the alarms in the hallway were flashing red. I started down the stairs, feeling someone close behind me and turning to see that it was Tyler.

  “Do you know what’s happening?” he asked. I shook my head, continuing down the stairs as the alarms blared. I paused on the second floor, remembering Esther, how she couldn’t get down the stairs by herself. The elevator wouldn’t work in a fire, I knew, so I turned around and darted back up one flight of stairs.

  “Ali—” Tyler said, turning around to follow me. I ignored him, rushing onto the second floor and down the hallway to Esther’s apartment. I knocked on the door.

  “Esther,” I called. There was no answer above the alarm. I yelled louder, but I knew that there was probably no way that the old woman would be able to hear me above the sirens.

  “Move,” Tyler said, taking my arm and gently pulling me away. He backed up then and shoved himself against the door, throwing his shoulder into it once, then twice before the door burst open. He ran inside and I followed him, watching as he picked Esther up in his arms. She had been sleeping in her bed, unaware of the noise, and she looked around confusedly, coughing. I noticed then that the place had started to grow foggier, the smoke making its way up the stairs. We hurried out of the apartment then, relieved to see a fireman about to rush in the door.

  “Here,” Tyler said, thrusting Esther into the man’s arms. The fireman hurried off without another word, making his way down the stairs. Tyler rushed forward, flying down the stairs, taking the corner on the first floor and throwing open the door.

  “Tyler!” I shouted, flying after him through it. The door swept shut behind us, locking us in what was a tiny broom closet that was crowded with coats and pitch black, slightly smoky. My heart started to pound in the dark—I couldn’t see anything, not even Tyler, though our bodies were pressed together in the tiny closet.

  “Ali,” he said, trying the doorknob. “What—?”

  “Why did you go into the closet?” I asked him. He laughed.

  “You think I came in here on purpose?” he asked. I didn’t say anything, trying to hold my breath. When I breathed, I could smell his scent, rich and masculine, as if he had just showered. His body pressed against mine was distracting, especially since I could feel his breath in my hair, breathing me in.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked in a teasing voice. I was trembling against him, though I found increasingly that it wasn’t out of fear. “You? Scared? I thought you were tough.”

  “Shut up,” I said to him, taking a deep breath. The sound of his voice was soothing, despite his teasing words.

  “Poor thing,” he said. “Afraid of the dark.”

  “Shut up,” I repeated, my breath catching in my throat when his hands found my waist and traced it up and down, holding me against him. In the dark, his mouth found mine, but he didn’t kiss me, instead simply brushed against my lips with his own. I felt my heart pounding in my chest, forgetting all about the fire, the fact that we were trapped.

  “Don’t be scared,” he said in a soft voice, his lips tickling my own. “Don’t be afraid, Ali.”

  “I—” I began, but he cut me off by sucking gently on my bottom lip. I exhaled, deflating, molding ag
ainst him. I was about to respond to his kiss when the closet door opened and smoke started to pour in. A fireman gestured for us to hurry out and we did, out of the closet and out of the building, sucking in clean air as soon as we were outside. I noticed only then that he was holding my hand, having guided me out through the smoke. I pulled my hand away from him, catching my breath, meeting his eye. I felt suddenly shy, but no longer as irritated as I usually was in his presence. He had tried to soothe me when he knew I was afraid, and it made me start to wonder whether there was more to him than I had originally thought.

  We waited for a long time outside, shivering in the cold. I stood next to Tyler, who hovered close to me, though he wasn’t touching me now that we were in public. It was comforting being next to him, though we didn’t talk for the entire time we waited to go back inside. The firemen gave the all-clear about an hour later, saying that someone on the first floor had fallen asleep with a candle lit and it had started the fire. It hadn’t done much damage, luckily, so we were all able to go back inside and go back to bed.

  Once we were upstairs, I turned to glance shyly at Tyler.

  “Thanks for uh—helping me,” I said to him. He gave me a half-grin that made something annoying flutter in my stomach.

  “You’re welcome, Ali. Good night.”

  “Goodnight,” I said to him, and went back into my apartment, biting my lip when I thought about how it felt to have his mouth so close to mine.

  Chapter 9: Tyler

  I went into work early the next morning, having barely slept. All I could think about was Ali, being so close to her, the scent of her, and the moment we had almost kissed. I had gotten to taste her lips, albeit briefly, and just that hint of being able to touch and taste her had made it so that I could think about nothing else. It confused me but I couldn’t help it—no matter how much I disliked her, how little we got along, I found that I wanted her worse than I had wanted anyone. The thought of it annoyed me—she wasn’t even my type, and most of the time it seemed like we couldn’t get along.