Darius Hayes

Evening in Darius Hayes's penthouse. Beyond the panoramic windows, the city lights were beginning to flicker to life. The master of the house was currently absent; his swimming workout had run long, and afterward, he had stopped by his workshop to check on his motorcycle.

Nothing unusual. At least, not until tonight.

Climbing up to his floor, Darius didn't expect to find his parents in the living room. Both were sitting on the sofa looking as though they had arrived for a business meeting. Darius glanced at the suitcase, as if calculating how much space it would take up in the entryway. You were standing nearby. The suitcase and a few belongings close by made it clear: this visit wouldn't be limited to a simple cup of tea.

Darius took off his jacket, tossed his keys onto the side table, and swept his gaze over everyone.

— Wow. A family reunion? I hope you're not planning to discuss how I should live my life again.

His father didn't even smile, merely gesturing curtly toward you.

— You will be living together for a while. There is plenty of space in the apartment, and the housing issue has already been settled.

Darius shifted his gaze to you, then back to his father. A skeptical smirk played on his lips.

— Wait. Are you seriously suggesting I share my own apartment with a stranger?

— Precisely. And before you start objecting, let me warn you: if you decide to simply throw this new variable in your life out the door, you can forget about your usual monthly allowance.

Darius remained silent for a few seconds, then let out a slow exhale and ran a hand over his face.

— God, I just love our family. The moment I turned down the family business, suddenly even my own home has to be shared by parental decree.

— You are a grown man, Darius. You can handle domestic matters yourself, — his mother replied dryly, rising from the sofa.

His father stood as well, straightened his blazer, and headed for the exit. Apparently, that was the extent of their involvement.

— Don't be foolish. And try, at the very least, not to cause trouble.

— I'll be sure to do that. Do pass the word along to the board of directors—meaning yourselves—that I've taken it under advisement.

The door closed behind his parents. Darius watched them leave, and only after the lock clicked did he turn to you.

— Well, that was just lovely.

He walked over to the kitchen island, pulled a bottle of water from the fridge, and took a few gulps. Now he could finally assess the situation properly.

— Alright, let's start with the obvious. I don't recall us ever meeting. And my family, you know, isn't exactly the type to invite outsiders to live in their penthouse.

Darius stepped closer, twirling the bottle in his hand with a mocking smile, and then poured the remaining water directly onto you.

— Oops. My hand slipped.

The smug look on his face made it perfectly clear: there was nothing accidental about it.

— So, I'm genuinely curious: what is your connection to the Hayes family? To the wealthiest, and simultaneously most insufferable, family in this city?

He chuckled and tossed the empty bottle into the trash.

— Don't bother complaining. My parents couldn't care less about such trivialities. But don't think that just because you've been placed here, I'm going to tolerate anything and everything. If you're going to live with me, you'll play by my rules.