It was past midnight when Naia Monroe stood outside the decrepit dormitory, her suitcase and duffel bag lying in tandem beside her, pooling the little light that radiated from the flickering streetlamp. A heavy silence hung in the air, broken only by the distant sounds of a city that was still very much alive.

Her phone buzzed with routine coldness. "No updates on accommodation," read the maddeningly curt message from the housing office. Naia let out a sigh, her frustration solidifying in the cold as visible puffs. She was a psychology major, not someone built to handle homelessness or the errant whims of fate.

"Great," she muttered, chewing her lip in distaste at the memory of being kicked out due to a 'technical error.' The office had assured her that she'd have a room by the next day, but she'd had enough rude awakenings to see the lie beneath their words. Just as she was contemplating sleeping on the lawn, her phone lit up with a call from her best friend, Jenna.

"Naia, where are you? I have a solution!" The urgency in Jenna’s voice did little to calm her. "I know someone who can take you in, at least temporarily."

Naia's skepticism crackled through the phone. "Who exactly?"

"Easton Blackwell," Jenna replied hesitantly. The name triggered the memory of a man she'd seen from afar but had never spoken to—a tall, incredibly handsome junior infamous for his sharp tongue and behavioral 'issues.'

Naia hesitated. "Isn't he rumored to be—"

"Yes," Jenna cut her off, aware of the rumors surrounding Easton. "But he's also the only option we've got now. Andrea, his roommate, says he’s out of town but will agree to it as long as she okay-ed it."

Left with no choice, Naia agreed. Jenna texted her the address of Easton’s apartment, and within minutes, she found herself in an Uber, her worries temporarily replaced by curiosity.

Upon arriving at Easton's lavish high-rise, Naia’s doubts resurfaced. She rang the doorbell, and a cheerful Andrea greeted her, making her way too late at night feel less foreboding.

"Naia! Welcome! Come in," Andrea chirped. "I’ve cleared the guest room for you."

Naia stepped into the chic apartment. The design featured plush furniture, minimalistic decor, and a magnificent view of the city skyline. She could hardly imagine Easton living here; it seemed too refined for someone with his supposed rough edges.

"Easton's room is down that hall," Andrea pointed out. "His study is off-limits. He works late there."

Naia nodded as she took in the opulence. "Thank you, Andrea. I really appreciate this."

"Anytime," Andrea said, her demeanor bright. "Just—be wary. Easton can be... challenging."

---

Early morning light filtered into the room, rousing Naia from her sleep. Groggy but determined, she freshened up and stepped out to explore the rest of the apartment. She was greeted by the aroma of freshly brewed coffee.

Seated at the kitchen island, a newspaper shielding his face, was Easton. Unlike her previous impressions, his presence was both magnetic and intimidating. She couldn't help but feel a rush of nervous energy.

"Good morning," Naia said, her voice betraying her attempt at nonchalance.

Easton lowered the newspaper to reveal icy blue eyes that appraised her coolly. "You're Naia, I presume. Andrea mentioned you'd be staying."

"Yes, temporarily," she replied, collecting herself under his scrutinizing gaze. "Thank you for letting me stay. It's just until my room is sorted."

Easton’s expression remained impassive. "Rules. I have a few."

The chill in his voice made her straighten. "Rules?"

"You keep out of my study. You don't bring guests without informing me. And," Easton’s eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief, "you stay out of my way."

Naia’s cheeks flush in defiance. "Understood."

Breakfast ensued in uncomfortable silence. The man known for his rudeness indeed lived up to his reputation, offering minimal conversation and shooting down any attempts at small talk.

Later, Naia explored the city's campus. The brisk walk allowed her to clear her head, meet old friends and gather essential supplies, mentally preparing herself for future encounters with her enigmatic host.

When she returned, the silence of the apartment seemed different—tense. Easton’s study door was ajar, unusual for someone who prized privacy.

Her curiosity betrayed her promises, and she slid quietly in. His study was a blend of darkness and light, filled with books, documents, and sketches. On the desk, she saw something peculiar—a folder marked "CONFIDENTIAL" with the university's emblem.

She mulled over the implications until she heard footsteps approaching, fast and deliberate. Panic set in as she backed towards the door, only to bump into Easton's broad chest.

Her heart stopped.

Easton’s expression morphed from surprise to something darker, more dangerous. "What are you doing here?" His voice was low, menacing.

"I—I was just—" Naia stammered, stepping back only for Easton to grasp her arm, pulling her closer.

“Remember what I said about rules, Naia?” His tone was steely, and his proximity sent a shiver down her spine.

His grip tightened slightly, sending another jolt of unexpected arousal coursing through her. The physical proximity, the danger in his voice; it was almost intoxicating.

Slowly, he leaned in, his breath warm against her ear, as he whispered, "Curiosity killed the cat, Naia. Don’t make me regret letting you stay.”

He released her arm, the dark look in his eyes lingering even after he stepped away. Her body tingled from the contact and the unspoken promise of his words. Desperation to uncover his secrets battled with a fearsome attraction, leaving her more conflicted than ever.