Sharp knocks, in quick succession, rattled against the wooden front door and jolted Emma awake.

For a brief moment, she thought she was still in Florida, cozy in her queen-size bed, until her eyes caught sight of two cockroaches darting across the floor and her back throbbed in protest from lying awkwardly against the kitchen table.

She winced, rubbing her head dejectedly, realizing she had fallen asleep while brooding over her life and how she would arrange everything to ensure she enrolled in the county’s university next tomorrow. The thoughts, rushing back now like a river bursting its banks, assailed her.

Thinking it over again, Emma knew she had to find a job or something to support herself financially. For the life of her, however,  she couldn’t think of any work she could do; she had never worked for money in her entire seventeen years of living.

Her father had always ensured she and Amelia didn’t lack, no matter how cruel he was to her. He scored well in that regard at least, even if Amelia’s weekly allowance was double hers.

But now, Emma thought tiredly, he had frozen her accounts too, after taking away her phone. He had told her that everything she needed was already in place, that anything extra would have to be paid by her.

“…which means he even expected me to work, or how else would I get the money for the extra? Stealing?” Emma’s murmur was edged with disbelief.

Only if she still had her phone…  she thought, scratching absently at her scalp. She would have made some calls.

If she had learned anything from her father, it was the importance of keeping connections. He had always told her and Amelia to make useful friends and keep them close, no matter what.

“It could be helpful to you in the future,” he would always say, before launching into tales of how he became a rich mogul who lent money even to government officials—how he made friends that helped him climb the ladder of fame and wealth.

“But then, he took my phone,” Emma voiced bitterly, slamming her palm against the table.

The knock came again.

Emma snapped out of her reverie and cursed under her breath, wondering who could be at the door this early. Her sister was far away in Florida, maybe surfing by now, and her father wouldn’t be coming until three months from now.

Rubbing her hands together to dull the sting of hitting one against the table, she stood begrudgingly and wobbled across the kitchen floor.

She sighed heavily at the mess of the rooms as she passed, until at last she reached the front door, still wondering who it could be.

Emma didn’t have to wait long to find out.

She opened the door to see a strikingly handsome guy standing at the post–six feet and more, with piercing blue eyes.

His skin was lightly tanned, and Emma briefly wondered if there was a sea nearby—though she hadn’t seen one on her way here. His hair was richly dark, tied neatly back in a ponytail.

A wholesome meal in all.

Emma gave a low whistle. If half the male population in this county were as handsome as the man in front of her, then maybe this adventure her father had forced her into wouldn’t be so bad after all.

“Hello,” the man said, waving a hand lightly in front of her face. His expression scrunching up, his lips twisting into something close to disgust.

Emma blinked, tilting her head. What’s wrong with me? 

Shifting from his intense gaze, she noticed there were other men with him—heavily built, carrying cleaning equipment.

“…wait a minute,” Emma whispered softly to herself. Who had called the cleaning company? She had just arrived a few hours ago!

It had to be her father. She concluded, feeling grateful to him. 

Still, she needed to confirm…

She opened her mouth to ask how and why the men had come, but the handsome stranger spoke first.

“Hello again. I’m Derek from Peipei Cleaning Company,” he said, flashing a forced smile that somehow showed off dazzling white teeth.

But Emma didn’t notice the teeth as she normally would, meeting a guy for the first time. What she caught instead was the hollowness in his smile—too sharp, too polished, a customer service mask. She couldn’t help thinking Mr. Handsome would rather be in a club watching ladies strip than standing here talking to her.

“Hello. I’m Emma, and I don’t remember calling for a cleaning service,” she replied blankly, locking eyes with him.

“Yeah, you didn’t, but the owner of the house did,” Derek answered scornfully, his tone clipped, as if speaking to a troublesome little sister.

He had noticed the way she had been fawning over him a moment ago. 

Humans can be so pathetic.

Though her scent was faint, he could  tell she was human. What he couldn’t understand though, was why she was standing in an area reserved for werewolves in the county.

Now, watching her square her shoulders, he waited with thinly veiled amusement for her next words.

“I’m the owner of the house, Cleaner Derek.” Emma’s  smile was sardonic.

Derek froze for a second. He scanned the tired-looking girl in front of him, who couldn’t be more than eighteen, and who had been ogling him shamelessly just minutes ago, and scoffed aloud.

“I don’t know what you’re saying, Miss, but Mr. Jason called for us. Are you his mistress or his maid? Whichever one you are, just call him to confirm—we don’t have all day to waste,” he said disdainfully.

He smiled when her proud stance gave way to shock, her haughty look collapsing into horror. The horrid twist of her expression pleased him greatly.

He would show her, Derek thought darkly. Humans were so easy to toy with, especially when they thought they could look down on his species.

Folding his thick, hairy arms across his chest, he leaned into the doorway, lips curling into a slow, daring smirk.