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The Roommate Pact: No Strings Attached Novel Cover

The Roommate Pact: No Strings Attached

"We do not talk. Ever," she warned, her voice trembling with a year's worth of rage. Brendon Hampton was Manhattan's ultimate "simp," using wealth and shallow socialites to silence his past. But during a lavish dinner, he snapped. He walked out, moved into a luxury apartment-and found Kiera Richards, the girl he ghosted during his father's scandal, standing in his new living room. Reunion is a nightmare. Kiera, now an "Ice Queen," looks at him with pure loathing. A housing glitch and a massive lease penalty trap them together. She reveals his disappearance cost her more than her heart-it shattered her mental health and her violin career at Juilliard. Brendon endures her hatred daily, unable to explain that federal agents seized his phone and his father had a heart attack. He abides by her rigid rules of silence, treated like a biohazard in his own home. Everything changes during a blackout. As a storm rages, Kiera's icy mask cracks-and she collapses into his arms, terrified of the dark. In the shadows, Brendon notices she still wears the necklace he gave her long ago. The war isn't over, but he's no longer just a roommate-he's a man determined to win back the soul he destroyed.
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Chapter 4

Kiera didn't wait for him to respond. She grabbed her phone from the coffee table and began dialing a number with shaking fingers.

"What are you doing?" Brendon asked.

"Calling the leasing office," she said, her voice tight. "There's been a mistake. A massive, disgusting mistake. I am not living with you, Brendon. I'd rather sleep in the subway."

Brendon watched her. She looked thinner than he remembered. The grey hoodie swallowed her frame. He felt a sudden, fierce urge to take the phone from her hand and make her look at him, but he stayed where he was.

"Richards," she said into the phone, her voice dropping into a professional, albeit strained, tone. "I'm in Unit 4B. My roommate just arrived. There is a serious problem. We need to be reassigned immediately."

She paused, listening. Her face went from pale to a frustrated red.

"I don't care if it's after hours," she snapped. "This is a safety issue. No, I am not being dramatic. I... I cannot share a space with this person."

Another pause. Brendon could hear the faint, tinny sound of a man's voice on the other end of the line.

"What do you mean 'no vacancy'?" Kiera's voice rose. "The Kensington has over two hundred units! Fine. Then I want to terminate my lease. Right now."

She went silent. Her eyes closed, and her shoulders slumped.

"Twelve thousand dollars?" she whispered. "That's the penalty?"

Brendon felt a pang of guilt. He knew Kiera's situation. Her family didn't have Hampton money. Her scholarship covered her tuition and a portion of her housing, but twelve thousand dollars might as well have been twelve million.

Kiera hung up the phone without saying goodbye. She stared at the floor, her chest heaving. She leaned against the wall, the number echoing in her head. Twelve thousand dollars. It was a debt that would follow her for years. She was trapped.

"They won't move us," she said to the rug. "And I can't afford to leave."

Brendon pulled his own phone out. He didn't call the office. He texted his broker.

Get me out of 4B. Now. I'll pay whatever it costs.

The reply came back almost instantly. Mr. Hampton, the university has a block on all Kensington transfers until mid-semester due to the housing crisis. Even with your father's influence, the SEC investigation has made the board... cautious about special favors. My hands are tied.

Brendon stared at the word SEC. It was a reminder of why he'd lost her in the first place. The investigation into Hampton Holdings had frozen his life a year ago, cutting off his phones, his bank accounts, and his ability to explain why he'd missed her biggest recital.

He looked at Kiera. She was still standing by the window, looking like she wanted to jump out of it.

"I can't move either," Brendon said. "The university won't allow transfers."

Kiera looked at him, her amber eyes brimming with tears she refused to let fall. "So what? We're just supposed to live together? Like nothing happened?"

"I don't want to hurt you, Kiera," Brendon said softly.

"You're a year too late for that," she spat.

She walked toward him, her footsteps heavy. For a second, he thought she might hit him. Instead, she just stopped a few inches away. The scent of vanilla was overwhelming now. It made Brendon's head spin.

"Here are the rules," she said, her voice trembling but determined. "You stay on your side of the apartment. I stay on mine. We don't share food. We don't share a bathroom. And most importantly, we do not talk. Ever."

Brendon looked at her. He wanted to reach out and tuck a stray hair behind her ear. He wanted to tell her he was sorry until his throat bled.

"I'm staying in the master suite," she continued, "because I got here first. You take the guest room."

"Fine," Brendon said.

"And Brendon?"

He looked up.

"If I see one trace of that girl-Gloria-in this apartment, I will throw your things off the balcony. I don't care about the lease."

"You won't see her," Brendon said. "She's gone."

Kiera let out a short, bitter laugh. "Right. Until you get bored and need someone to stroke your ego again."

She turned and headed toward the master bedroom. She didn't look back. The sound of her door slamming shut felt like a gunshot in the quiet room.

Brendon stood in the living room for a long time. He looked at the city lights. He had wanted a new start. He had wanted to forget.

Instead, he was trapped in a four-wall cage with the only person who could truly destroy him.

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