Under His Billionaire Roof novel Chapter 4

Leighton's alarm went off at seven. She'd slept maybe three hours, total.

Her phone interview was at nine. She needed coffee. Needed to pull herself together and sound competent and employable instead of like someone who'd spent half the night obsessing over her best friend's brother.

She showered and changed into actual clothes. A blouse and jeans, since they couldn't see her bottom half on the video call anyway. Light makeup to hide the dark circles under her eyes. Her hair was pulled back in a neat ponytail.

Professional. Put together. Definitely not thinking about Noah's eyes or his voice or the way he'd said *grew up*.

She grabbed her laptop and crept downstairs. According to Chloe, Noah worked out every morning at six, then locked himself in his office until noon. Which meant the coast should be clear.

The kitchen was empty. She made coffee, her hands still shaky from lack of sleep. The spot where the glass had shattered was spotless. Like it had never happened.

She took her coffee and laptop to what Chloe had called the "morning room." Big windows, comfortable chairs, good lighting. Perfect for a video interview.

She had an hour to prep. Review the company website, practice her answers, pretend her life wasn't a complete mess.

At 8:45, her laptop pinged. The interview link was active. She took a deep breath and clicked join.

The interview lasted thirty minutes. Standard questions about her experience, her design process, and why she wanted the job. She gave good answers. Smiled at the right times. Pretended she wasn't desperate.

"We'll be in touch," the hiring manager said at the end. "Probably early next week."

Translation: don't call us, we'll call you.

Leighton closed her laptop and slumped in the chair. That had gone fine. Not great, not terrible. Fine.

She needed more coffee.

On her way back to the kitchen, she heard music. Something with a heavy beat coming from down the hall. She followed the sound to a door she hadn't noticed before, slightly open.

Through the gap, she could see equipment. A treadmill. Weight racks. Punching bag.

The gym.

She should keep walking. Mind her own business. Get her coffee and go back to her room.

Instead, she moved closer to the door.

Noah was inside. She could see him through the opening, his back to her. He was on the weight bench, doing chest presses. No shirt, just shorts and sneakers. Sweat gleamed on his skin. His muscles flexed with each rep, controlled and precise.

She knew she should look away. Knew she was being creepy, standing here watching him.

But she couldn't move.

He finished his set and sat up, reaching for a water bottle. His chest rose and fell with his breathing. There was a scar on his left shoulder, about three inches long. She wondered how he'd gotten it.

Then he turned his head and looked directly at her.

Their eyes locked.

Leighton froze. Caught. Like a kid with her hand in the cookie jar.

For a long moment, neither of them moved. The music pounded between them. She couldn't read his expression. Couldn't tell if he was angry or amused or something else entirely.

Then he stood up and walked toward the door.

She should run. Should apologize and leave and never speak of this again.

But her feet wouldn't move.

He pushed the door open wider. Up close, she could see the sweat on his skin, the way his chest still heaved slightly from exertion. He smelled like salt and something expensive. Cologne or body wash or just him.

"Enjoying the show?" His voice was low. Dangerous.

"I heard music. I was just..."

"Watching me work out."

Her face burned. "I wasn't... I mean, I was walking by and..."

"And you stopped to stare."

"I'm sorry."

"You apologize a lot for someone who keeps doing things she shouldn't."

"I know. I'll just..." She gestured vaguely toward the kitchen.

"How'd your interview go?"

The question threw her. "What?"

"Your phone interview. This morning. How was it?"

"How did you know about that?"

"Chloe mentioned it yesterday." He took a drink of water, and she tried very hard not to watch his throat work as he swallowed. "So?"

"It was fine. They said they'd call next week."

"That's good."

"Maybe. I don't know." She twisted her hands together. "I applied to like forty jobs. Only got one call back. The market is awful right now."

"What kind of design do you do?"

"Mostly branding. Logos, marketing materials. Some web design."

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