Chapter 1: Welcome to Trouble

Kate

The house was too big.

Not big like “spacious with good lighting.” Big like is this a resort or did I get the address wrong?

I stood in front of the massive black iron gate, my backpack slung over one shoulder, a small suitcase dragging behind me like it was just as tired as I was. My phone buzzed with a message from Dad.

“Be polite. William is a good man. Stay focused on your studies.”

I rolled my eyes.

William Carter. My dad’s old friend from college. All I knew was that he was rich, single, and apparently kind enough to let me stay in one of his extra rooms while I started college. My expectations were simple: some balding, golf-obsessed man in khakis. Probably divorced. Hopefully harmless.

But when the gate buzzed and slowly opened, and I dragged my luggage up the stone path, the front door swung open before I even knocked.

And out stepped a sin.

He was tall. Tall like bend-me-over-the-counter tall. Shirtless, tan, towel hanging dangerously low on his hips, holding a bottle of water to his neck like he needed to cool off from something much too hot.

He was also not 60. Not bald. And not wearing khakis.

“Kate?” he asked, eyebrow raised.

I stared. Blinked. Swallowed. Nodded like an idiot.

“Your dad said you’d be arriving around this time,” he said, stepping aside to let me in. “I’m William.”

He smiled, and I swear it should’ve been illegal. Sharp jawline. Five o’clock shadow. Muscles that said I own a home gym and actually use it. That smirk of a man who’d seen and done too much—and remembered all of it.

“You’re—uh—barefoot,” I muttered.

He looked down. “I am. Hope that’s not a problem. You’re not allergic to chest hair, are you?”

I coughed.

Off to a great start.

:

I followed him through the foyer—well, trailed behind, really, because it was hard to walk in a straight line when the view in front of me looked like it belonged in a Men’s Health centerfold.

Broad shoulders. Defined back muscles that rippled with every step. That towel still clinging low on his hips like it was barely obeying gravity. My mouth was dry. My morals were slipping. My brain was screaming INAPPROPRIATE in neon flashing lights.

He glanced back at me. “You okay, Kate?”

“Mm-hmm,” I managed. Just fine. Drowning in lust and regret, but fine.

He gave me a smile that was completely innocent, which only made it worse. The man had no idea the chaos he was causing. Or maybe he did. Maybe that was the point. Either way, I hated that I noticed him. That I noticed… everything.

His voice. His scent. That low, gravelly laugh when he caught me bumping into a table.

Get it together, Kate. You have a boyfriend. A sweet, golden-retriever boy who sends you voice notes and bought you matching college sweatshirts.

Jeremy. God, you love Jeremy.

He’s safe. Loyal. You’ve been together since junior year. You even planned to lose your virginity to him this semester, in some cheap motel off campus with too many air fresheners and a broken ceiling fan. It was supposed to be romantic.

This wasn’t romantic. This was dangerous.

“This one’s yours.” William stopped at a door at the end of the hall. “Private bathroom, big window, queen-sized bed. Should be comfortable.”

He opened the door and stepped aside. I entered, relieved to find something to focus on besides his god-tier abs. The room was huge, decorated in warm tones with velvet curtains and soft rugs. A writing desk, a bookshelf, and… was that a damn chaise lounge?

“I feel like I just got upgraded to first class,” I said, trying to shake the heat in my chest.

He grinned. “Only the best for your dad’s little girl.”

Little girl. Ouch.

I felt that right in my panties. Because that’s what I was to him, right? Just his friend’s daughter. Barely an adult. A kid with textbooks and too many emotions.

“I’ll let you settle in. Fresh towels are in the bathroom. Kitchen’s downstairs. And for the record—” he paused at the doorway, lifting that water bottle to his lips “—I do wear shirts sometimes.”

He winked. Winked. And disappeared down the hall.

I collapsed face-first onto the bed.

Lord help me.

Because I didn’t care if he was thirty-freaking-nine or if he’d kissed my dad’s beer-soaked face back in college. William Carter was temptation with a pulse, and the worst part?

He wasn’t even flirting with me.

No sly comments. No knowing looks. Nothing. Like I was just some houseguest. A niece. A responsibility.

And that pissed me off more than it should’ve.

The room was quiet.

Too quiet.

I’d unpacked my essentials, changed into a hoodie and shorts, and even curled up on the fancy velvet chair by the window with my phone in hand, pretending not to wait for a text from Jeremy. Instead, my screen lit up with a video call from Gloria.

Oh, God. Here we go.

I answered, and her face popped up instantly—messy bun, big hoop earrings, iced coffee in hand like the dramatic queen she was.

“Finally! I was starting to think William locked you in his wine cellar or something,” she said, smirking.

I laughed. “Not yet.”

“So? Spill. How’s the place? Do you have your own room? A walk-in closet? Is he old and gross like I pictured or…?”

I hesitated. Then gave her a look.

Gloria narrowed her eyes. “Wait. Don’t tell me…”

“He’s hot,” I whispered.

Her jaw dropped. “Shut up.”

“I’m serious, Glo. Like, gym-sculpted, low-voice, can’t-stop-staring-at-his-abs hot. And he was in a towel when he opened the door.”

Gloria gasped. “A towel?! Girl, what is this? A porn intro?”

I snorted. “Stop.”

“No, you stop. How can a man that hot be single at his age? I’m telling you, Kate, that man is either hiding a dead wife in the basement or he’s a full-blown playboy.”

I rolled my eyes, trying not to remember how the towel had clung to his hips like it was in love with his pelvis.

“I’m not getting involved with him,” I said quickly. “It’s not like that. He’s my dad’s friend. He’s way older than me, Gloria. Like… he could literally be my father.”

Gloria raised a brow. “Yeah, but he’s not your father. And Jeremy is how far away? Ten minutes across campus?”

“Jeremy is my boyfriend,” I said firmly. “We’ve been together since high school, remember? We love each other.”

“Right,” she said, sipping her coffee. “And yet here you are blushing like a virgin in a strip club.”

“That’s because I am a virgin.”

She almost choked. “Still?!”

I shrugged, flushing. “I told you. I’m not that kind of girl. I’m not a slut, Gloria.”

“Whoa, whoa. Chill. I didn’t say you were,” she said, raising both hands. “You just… really haven’t done anything with Jeremy?”

“No,” I admitted. “Not yet. We were waiting. It just… hasn’t felt right.”

“Well,” Gloria said, leaning closer to the camera, “you better hope it feels right before your hot older housemate finds out. Because if that man is even half the playboy I think he is, knowing you’re a virgin will just make him want to ruin you faster.”

I rolled my eyes again, but my cheeks burned. “William’s not even flirting with me, Glo. If anything, I think he barely notices I exist. He called me my dad’s little girl.”

Gloria smirked. “That’s exactly what they say before they bend you over the marble kitchen counter.”

“Gloria!”

“I’m serious,” she said, laughter in her voice. “Rich older men don’t play fair. They don’t chase like boys our age. They know exactly how to get into a girl’s panties. If he finds out you’re untouched…”

She paused, dramatic as ever.

“…he’ll either avoid you like the plague. Or take it as a challenge.”

I chewed on my lip, trying not to imagine his hands. His mouth. His voice whispering wicked things into my ear.

No. No.

“I’m not some naïve idiot,” I said. “Nothing is going to happen. I’m not going to cheat on Jeremy. I’m just here to get my degree and crash rent-free in this bougie mansion.”

“Fine,” Gloria said, smiling like she knew something I didn’t. “But you better keep me updated. Because I swear, if you end up moaning Mr. Carter’s name instead of answering my texts—”

“BYE.”

I hung up before she could finish and buried my burning face in a pillow.