My Landlord's Midnight Lips - Chapter 2: Chapter 2
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Daniel conked out almost immediately after his shower, leaving me alone with my racing thoughts.
I twisted in the sheets, the night replaying every excruciating detail in my head like a broken record.
Vincent.
God, he was unfairly attractive—broad-shouldered, that tapered waist like some Greek statue, all raw strength where Daniel was... well, not.
Slap.
My palm stung where I'd smacked my own cheek. What the hell was wrong with me? Those thoughts had no business slithering into my head.
And that excuse of his? Wrong door, my ass. A grown man, no wife, no explanation—just waltzing in like he owned the place? Since when was that a reflex?
No. Tomorrow, I'd corner him. Get answers.
Sleep never came. By 7 AM, I gave up and dragged myself to the kitchen, frying eggs while Daniel wolfed them down before zipping off to the factory on his scooter.
Later, hanging laundry on the balcony, I caught myself staring at the convenience store below—Vincent's domain. How the hell was I supposed to handle this? Screaming in public wasn't my style. Threatening cops? Pointless without proof. And worse—I couldn't let this get out.
I retreated inside, collapsing onto the bed, gnawing on my lip until the indecision felt like it was eating me alive.
Then—knocking.
I swung the door open.
Vincent stood there, holding a food container, that infuriatingly calm look on his face.
I twisted in the sheets, the night replaying every excruciating detail in my head like a broken record.
Vincent.
God, he was unfairly attractive—broad-shouldered, that tapered waist like some Greek statue, all raw strength where Daniel was... well, not.
Slap.
My palm stung where I'd smacked my own cheek. What the hell was wrong with me? Those thoughts had no business slithering into my head.
And that excuse of his? Wrong door, my ass. A grown man, no wife, no explanation—just waltzing in like he owned the place? Since when was that a reflex?
No. Tomorrow, I'd corner him. Get answers.
Sleep never came. By 7 AM, I gave up and dragged myself to the kitchen, frying eggs while Daniel wolfed them down before zipping off to the factory on his scooter.
Later, hanging laundry on the balcony, I caught myself staring at the convenience store below—Vincent's domain. How the hell was I supposed to handle this? Screaming in public wasn't my style. Threatening cops? Pointless without proof. And worse—I couldn't let this get out.
I retreated inside, collapsing onto the bed, gnawing on my lip until the indecision felt like it was eating me alive.
Then—knocking.
I swung the door open.
Vincent stood there, holding a food container, that infuriatingly calm look on his face.
End of My Landlord's Midnight Lips Chapter 2. Continue reading Chapter 3 or return to My Landlord's Midnight Lips book page.