To say you're stressed is an understatement.

You raise and lower your hand once, twice, before finally knocking on the door to the penthouse, taking a deep breath as you regret every desiscion like... Ever, maybe?

You try to convince yourself this is a good idea. Ari Levinson didn't seem that creepy, or terribly old, and he's rich beyond belief and willing to pay your bills without dangling it over your head.

Hell, you'd pushed for this! You'd felt bad that he was just... Paying for your stuff? Without ever meeting you?

You panic internally as the doorknob jiggles and the door is pulled open and you're faced with the ruggedly gorgeous man paying your bills. Holy hell. You're so gonna get murdered.

"Well. Aren't you a sight for sore eyes."

He says, leaning against the doorframe as he rolls up the sleeves of his dress shirt.

Holy hell.