
For his part, Mason was finding Claire's presence equally grating. Her voice, which she clearly thought was at a reasonable volume, seemed to penetrate every corner of the apartment. He could hear every detail of her business calls, every laugh at some client's poor attempt at humor, every rustle of papers as she flipped through her documents.
By early evening, both Claire and Mason were at their wits' end. Claire had just wrapped up her last call of the day and was rubbing her temples, trying to ward off an impending headache. She stood up, stretching her stiff muscles, and made her way to the kitchen for a glass of water.
As she rounded the corner, she collided with Mason, who was emerging from the study with an empty mug. The mug went flying, shattering on the hardwood floor and sending lukewarm coffee splashing over both of them and a stack of papers Mason had been carrying.
"Oh my 


As Claire settled into her makeshift workspace in the living room, a knock at the door broke the silence. A courier stood outside, laden with packages and envelopes.
"Delivery for Monsieur Steele and Mademoiselle Langford," he announced cheerfully.
Claire signed for the packages, her brow furrowing as she sorted through them. "Mason," she called out, "I think some of these are for you."
Mason emerged from the study, eyeing the pile of deliveries. "Those documents on top are yours," he said, reaching for a box. "The rest should be mine."
They began sorting through the items, but it quickly became apparent that the courier had mixed up their deliveries. Claire's important financial documents had been delivered to Mason's pile, while his tech gadgets and components were scattered among her papers.
"This is a nightmare," Claire muttered, trying to gather her documents without disturbing Mas


Claire's mind raced. Had she entered the wrong apartment? But the concierge had been so sure...
"I'm Claire Langford," she said, her voice tight with confusion and growing annoyance. "This is supposed to be my apartment for the next two weeks."
The man's eyebrows furrowed. "There must be some mistake. I'm Mason Steele, and I've booked this apartment for the month."
Claire's heart sank as recognition dawned. Mason Steele, the reclusive tech billionaire whose face occasionally graced the covers of business magazines. Known for his brilliant mind and his equally brilliant ability to alienate people.
"Well, Mr. Steele," Claire said, trying to keep her voice level, "I can assure you that Dayton Enterprises has arranged for me to stay here. Perhaps we should speak to the management and sort this out."
Mason's face remained impassive. "By all means. Though I doubt it will change anything. I've been here for three days already, and I have no intention of leaving."
Claire bit back a retort. She was tired, jet-lagged, and in no mood for this kind of complication. But she wasn't about to let this arrogant man push her around either.
A tense hour followed as they spoke with the building manager, who was profusely apologetic about the double booking. Unfortunately, due to a major tech conference in the city, there were no other suitable accommodations available on such short notice.
"Perhaps," the manager suggested hesitantly, "the apartment is large enough for you both to share? It has two bedrooms, after all."
Claire and Mason exchanged a look of mutual distaste at the idea.
"Absolutely not," Mason said flatly.
At the same time, Claire exclaimed, "You can't be serious!"
But as the reality of their situation sank in, they both realized they had little choice. Claire couldn't return to New York without completing her business in Paris, and Mason, it seemed, was equally unwilling to change his plans.
"Fine," Claire said eventually, her jaw clenched. "We'll make it work. But I want it on record that this is completely unacceptable, and Dayton Enterprises will be hearing about this."
Mason merely grunted in response, already turning to head back into the apartment.
As Claire wheeled her suitcase to the second bedroom, she fumed silently. This was not how she had envisioned her Paris trip starting. She could hear Mason moving around in the living room and kitchen, and each sound grated on her nerves.
She unpacked quickly, hanging up her carefully chosen outfits and arranging her toiletries in the en-suite bathroom. At least the room itself was lovely, with a small balcony offering a view of a charming Parisian street. But the knowledge that Mason Steele was just on the other side of the wall dampened her appreciation of the surroundings.
Meanwhile, Mason had retreated to the study, his preferred workspace. He was already regretting his decision to leave his usual haunts in Silicon Valley for this Parisian "inspiration trip." The last thing he needed was some corporate climber disrupting his peace and creative flow.
He pulled out his noise-cancelling headphones, determined to block out any sound of his unwanted roommate. As he immersed himself in lines of code, he started plotting how to minimize any interaction with Claire during their forced cohabitation.
The next morning, Claire woke early, her body clock still adjusting to the time difference. She tiptoed to the kitchen, hoping to grab a quick breakfast before Mason emerged. To her dismay, he was already there, hunched over a laptop at the kitchen island.
"Good morning," Claire said stiffly, moving to the coffee maker.
Mason barely grunted in response, not looking up from his screen.
Claire took a deep breath, reminding herself to be professional. "I think we should establish some ground rules if we're going to be sharing this space."
This got Mason's attention. He looked up, his dark eyes meeting hers. "What did you have in mind?"
"Well, for starters, I'll need to use the living room for work during the day. I have several video conferences scheduled with clients."
Mason frowned. "I prefer to work in silence. Your calls will be disruptive."
"And I prefer not to work in my bedroom like a teenager," Claire shot back. "Look, I'll be as quiet as I can, but I have a job to do here."
After several minutes of tense negotiation, they agreed on a rough schedule. Claire would have the living room from 9 AM to 6 PM for her work, while Mason would retreat to the study. In the evenings, they would each stick to their respective bedrooms as much as possible.
"And the kitchen?" Claire asked, eyeing the well-appointed space.
"I typically eat late," Mason said. "If you're done by 8 PM, it shouldn't be an issue."
Claire nodded, already dreading the idea of rushing through her dinner to avoid another awkward encounter.
As they went about their days, the atmosphere in the apartment remained frosty. Claire set up her laptop in the living room, spreading out her documents on the coffee table. She could hear Mason typing furiously in the study, the sound somehow managing to penetrate the closed door.
Around midday, Claire had her first video conference with the Paris office. She was in the middle of outlining a new investment strategy when Mason emerged from the study, heading to the kitchen. The floorboards creaked under his feet, causing Claire to wince.
"I'm so sorry," she said to her colleagues on the screen. "Just a moment of background noise. As I was saying..."
She shot Mason an irritated look, but he seemed oblivious, rummaging in the refrigerator. When he returned to the study, his arms laden with snacks, he let the door slam behind him, causing Claire to jump.
The rest of the afternoon passed in a similar fashion. Every time Claire thought she had found her rhythm, some small disruption from Mason would break her concentration. The sound of his chair scraping against the floor, the occasional muffled curse when something apparently went wrong with his work, the constant opening and closing of the study door as he made trips to the kitchen.

For his part, Mason was finding Claire's presence equally grating. Her voice, which she clearly thought was at a reasonable volume, seemed to penetrate every corner of the apartment. He could hear every detail of her business calls, every laugh at some client's poor attempt at humor, every rustle of papers as she flipped through her documents.
By early evening, both Claire and Mason were at their wits' end. Claire had just wrapped up her last call of the day and was rubbing her temples, trying to ward off an impending headache. She stood up, stretching her stiff muscles, and made her way to the kitchen for a glass of water.
As she rounded the corner, she collided with Mason, who was emerging from the study with an empty mug. The mug went flying, shattering on the hardwood floor and sending lukewarm coffee splashing over both of them and a stack of papers Mason had been carrying.
"Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" Claire exclaimed, immediately dropping to her knees to gather the scattered pa

CHAPTER SEVEN - A Friendly Warning