My Enemy Next Door: An Enemies to Lovers Romance Read online

  My Enemy Next Door

  A Steamy Novella

  Nicole London

  Whitney G.

  Contents

  About This Book

  My Enemy Next Door Playlist

  A Note From Whitney G. & Nicole London

  Prologue I

  Prologue II

  Chassie

  Tyler

  Chassie

  Chassie

  Tyler

  Tyler

  Chassie

  Tyler

  Chassie

  Chassie

  Tyler

  Chassie

  Tyler

  Chassie

  Tyler

  Chassie

  Chassie

  Tyler

  Tyler

  Chassie

  Chassie

  Chassie

  Chassie

  Tyler

  Chassie

  Tyler

  Tyler

  Epilogue I

  Epilogue II

  More by Whitney G.

  Break Up with Him, for Me

  More By Nicole London

  Mr. Popular

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright 2018 by Nicole London & Whitney Gracia Williams.

  Copyright 2021 by Nicole London & Whitney Gracia Williams. Second Edition.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without prior permission of the author.

  Cover design by Najla Qamber of Najla Qamber Designs.

  About This Book

  My Enemy Next Door is a super fun, naughty novella about two former college “enemies.”

  * * *

  It is best read and experienced over a cup of coffee.

  My Enemy Next Door Playlist

  1. Drivers License

  Olivia Rodrigo

  * * *

  2. Needed Me

  Rihanna

  * * *

  3. Kiss Me More

  Doja Cat, SZA

  * * *

  4. Truth Hurts

  Lizzo

  * * *

  5. Without Me

  Halsey

  * * *

  6. Bad Guy

  Billie Eilish

  * * *

  7. Say So

  Doja Cat

  * * *

  8. Thank You, Next

  Ariana Grande

  * * *

  9. What Goes Around...Comes Around

  Justin Timberlake

  * * *

  10. Levitating

  Dua Lipa

  * * *

  11. Positions

  Ariana Grande

  * * *

  12. Adore You

  Harry Styles

  This story is for fun.

  Pure ‘you only live once’ fun.

  A Note From Whitney G. & Nicole London

  Dear Awesome Reader,

  Thank you so much for picking up My Enemy Next Door, a super fun and naughty novella! We can’t wait for you to dive into this steamy, short romp! This book ends at 90% and features a sneak peek of another title.

  If you want to be the first to learn of our upcoming releases, sales, and special things that we only offer to our readers, be sure to sign up for the Exclusive F.L.Y. List. (F.L.Y. = Effin Love You. Because whether you love or hate this story, we still love you for giving it a chance!)

  Sincerely,

  Whitney G. & Nicole London

  Prologue I

  Chassie

  There are three people in this world that I will never forgive until the day I die. These people have burned me to my core, drowned me in an endless sea of tears, or stolen my happiest moments in exchange for ones filled with heartache.

  Their names and offenses are etched onto my “Infinite F.U. List” in permanent marker—with every detail of their betrayal drafted and underlined in bright red ink. This list is currently stashed away in a security box, where my friends and family will find it after they’ve read my last will and testament.

  Okay, wait.

  Am I being slightly dramatic about this? Of course.

  Haven’t I ever heard the phrase “Forgive and forget?” Nope.

  Is this list truly necessary? Absolutely.

  The first offender is my former stepmother, Laurelin-Rose Viviana Pruitt. In addition to having one of the most pretentious names on the planet, she maintained a new affair for every year that she was married to my father. She broke his heart so terribly that years of intense therapy were never able to set him right again.

  The second offender is my best friend since sixth grade, Amy Warren. Well, she was my best friend.

  Weeks before my birthday party, she decided to “live her truth” by revealing that she’d been sleeping with my boyfriend behind my back. Not only that, but she let me know that she was pregnant with his baby.

  Oh, and apparently, they filmed a sex tape on my bed. (She and my ex-boyfriend are actually sharing this spot on my list; I just refuse to acknowledge the latter’s existence.)

  The third and final offender is the worst of all, though.

  It’s Mr. Tyler “Cocky as Ever” Hudson.

  With his perfectly chiseled jawline and stunning hazel gaze, he fooled me into forgetting that he was Satan in disguise.

  He was an utter asshole who couldn’t help one-upping me at every turn when we were in college. Ruthlessly competitive and obsessed with being number one, he wielded his charm like a weapon—stabbing me in the back whenever I was foolish enough to turn around.

  To this day, there are specific ‘incidents’ between us that still play in my mind whenever I think about him. They make me wonder why I ever bothered attempting to be his friend when he was always meant to be an enemy.

  By the time he became valedictorian and dared to ask, “Would you like to start things over and be friends?” I was far too wise to fall for it.

  After graduating and finishing law school, I moved out of the hometown that was far too stifling for me to coexist with people I hated.

  I started a new life in Manhattan, made better friends with a brand-new identity, and vowed never to cross paths with any of my enemies ever again.

  Or, so I thought.

  Prologue II

  Tyler

  If you believe a single word that the woman before me just told you, then you’re as delusional as she is.

  And that’s a damn shame.

  Her “Infinite F.U. List” may be written in permanent marker—with the details underlined in bright red ink, but she didn’t stash it away in a security box.

  She posted it on Facebook for the entire world to see. She also tagged me to it and talked shit about me in the comments.

  When I pointed out that there was a typo in the third line—and that she was as ruthlessly competitive as I was, she blocked me. (This was quite unfortunate because, despite being the queen of exaggerations, the pictures she used to post were always sexy as hell.)

  As far as the “specific incidents” she mentioned, there are two sides to every story, and she’s an enemy in my version as well.

  You can decide which part you believe at the end, though …

  Chassie

  Present Day

  Manhattan, New York

  ~For Rent~

&nbs
p; * * *

  Luxury 2 Bedroom Apt. in the Heart of Manhattan

  Beautiful View of Downtown

  Deluxe kitchen

  Premium Hardwood Floors

  Granite Countertops & Glam Galore

  Private Soundproof Studio

  2.5k/month plus utilities

  “Is this the right place?” I refreshed the advertisement on my phone’s screen a few more times, looking around the living room in utter disbelief.

  The “beautiful view” gave front row access to a former asylum, complete with prison bars to match. The “premium hardwood floors” were linoleum, and strips of yellow caution tape blocked the kitchen’s entryway.

  Is that a cockroach on the ceiling?

  “This is totally the right place, Miss Heritage.” The realtor, a short guy who’d flirted with me all morning, nodded his head. “Allow me to show you to the master bedroom.”

  I bit my tongue and followed him down a narrow hallway.

  The cockroach followed, too.

  “This room was originally meant to serve as a parlor, but the owner decided to switch things around at the last minute.” He stepped through a doorway and hit the lights, illuminating a tiny room that looked as if it’d been neglected since 1975.

  Layers of dust and cobwebs clung to every space, and gritty grey plastic covered the furniture.

  It was ten times smaller than my ex-boyfriend’s space, and that was quite the feat since he was currently serving time in federal prison.

  “So,” he said, “I know this seems like a lot of work, but there’s true charm here. You mentioned getting out of a bad relationship and wanting to finally live like a ‘successful lawyer,’ so what better way to start a new life than moving into a fixer upper?”

  “Um …” I tried to think of something positive to say, something other than, “I think we’re both breathing in asbestos at this moment.”

  Before I could tell him that I wanted to leave and move on to the next apartment, he walked past me.

  “Let me show you something cool that we missed in the kitchen.” He motioned for me to follow, and I reluctantly trailed him once more.

  “Check this out! This is the only apartment in this entire building that has this feature.”

  I watched as he tugged on the edge of the counter for several seconds, until it extended and became two feet longer.

  “Your breakfast nook just transformed from a place for one, to a place for two.” He winked. “There’s plenty of space in the breakfast nook for you and whichever lucky guy you choose to invite over for sex. I’m available for that, you know.”

  I rolled my eyes at his blatant ‘come-on’ and walked over to the window. Even though this place was now off my consideration list, I decided to run through my usual questions anyway.

  “Where is the soundproof room?” I asked.

  “The what?”

  “The soundproof room.” I looked over at him. “The ad specifically mentioned that every suite comes with a soundproof room. Where is that?”

  “Oh, um that depends. Why do you need one?”

  “It’s for something I do on the side,” I said. “I’ve mentioned needing one to you multiple times.”

  “Right, right. Do you sing seductive songs whenever you’re not lawyering, or something?” He looked as if he was gearing up to serve me another cheesy line.

  I didn’t give him any space; I simply waited for him to answer my question.

  “This listing may have exaggerated things a bit,” he said, finally. “What it should’ve said was that there’s a soundproof area in the basement that is available for all tenants to use.”

  “You were the one who suggested this listing.” I crossed my arms. “Did you know how bad it was before we arrived?”

  “It’s not bad at all.” He looked offended. “I mean, what do you honestly expect for under three thousand dollars a month in New York?” He ran a hand through his hair. “You should be grateful that I set up the rat traps before we arrived.”

  “You know what?” I stepped back. “I think I need to go with another realtor. Thank you for showing me nothing but former crime scenes and unfinished places for the past few weeks.”

  “No, wait.” He moved in front of me. “Look. All of the ones I’ve shown you tonight belong to me and my girlfriend. We’re trying to rent out a few of them to make extra money.”

  “You should probably invest in cleaning them first,” I said. “And wait a minute. How do you possibly have a girlfriend if you’ve been implying sex with me on every tour?”

  “I have to do whatever it takes to get the sale. Besides, you have D-cups and plump lips. It’s your fault, really. You’ve been tempting me.”

  I gave him a blank stare.

  “I’m sure you tell your little legal clients bullshit all the time.” He didn’t look sorry in the slightest. “Anyway, my girlfriend and I are more than willing to make some adjustments to this place until you’re happy. I’m sure she’ll be okay with me knocking off fifty dollars off the rent as well. I’ll knock off a hundred, if you do your own fumigating.”

  “I’ll pass, thanks.” I turned around and walked toward the door. As I struggled to turn the knob, it fell to the floor.

  A family of ants immediately swarmed all over it.

  “If you agree to stay, l won’t make you pay for that damage you just caused.” The two-timer stepped next to me. “I can draw up a pretty generous security deposit offer.”

  “If you keep talking, I’ll sue you for false advertising.”

  He opened his mouth to speak, but then he walked away.

  I thought so. I stepped out into the hall and took the stairway instead of the elevator, just in case that strange cable-snapping sound I heard earlier wasn’t all in my head.

  Returning to the waiting cab out front, I buckled my seatbelt and let out a breath.

  “Where to next, Miss?” The driver raised his eyebrow. “Oh, wait. Where is the realtor guy?”

  “Probably counting rats and roaches,” I said. “I know you’ve been chauffeuring me around for hours, but can you please take me to the best condos with leasing offices? I don’t want to deal with a realtor anymore.”

  “The best condos at midnight, Miss?”

  “I thought our city never slept.”

  “It doesn’t.” He smiled. “What’s your budget?”

  “Six thousand max.”

  “I’ll have to tell my daughter to go to law school then,” he said. “I drop off plenty of asshole suits all day, so I can show you quite a few—provided that you buy me breakfast.”

  “Absolutely.”

  He steered the car onto the street, and his eyes met mine in the mirror.

  “Not to get into your business,” he said, “but I overheard you talking on the phone earlier about your last boyfriend being a cheating bastard who got caught stealing from your firm.”

  “He was,” I said. “Were you offended by that?”

  “Of course not.” He shrugged. “But since I overheard you say that he was your former coworker and you had suspicions before, I want to let you know that once someone reveals his asshole tendencies the first time, you should cut your losses. It’ll only be a matter of time before he does it again.”

  I’m well aware of that fact. Trust me. “Thank you for the advice.”

  “You’re more than welcome.”

  A few hours later, I stepped into the final condo complex for the morning and immediately fell in love.

  It was a luxury building on the backside of Central Park called The Barclays. At five thousand dollars a month, it was the most expensive unit I’d seen thus far, but it had everything I wanted.

  Even a soundproof room.

  “So, what do you think, Miss?” The building’s manager handed me a brochure. “Do you think this will work for you?”

  “It more than works,” I said. “Can I take the application with me?”

  “Sure, but—” She shrugged. “You work at Walsh an
d White. I would only need to run a background check and get three months of deposit in the form of a check.”

  “Perfect. Can we do that, then?”

  “Now?”

  “Right now.”

  She motioned for me to follow her into an office, and after three cups of coffee and a bag of bagels, I was holding the key and the lease to a unit on the top floor.

  I walked through the space a few times and made a mental note to bring over what was left at my temporary place this evening.

  As I walked through the spa center downstairs, my phone vibrated in my pocket.

  My best guy friend. Sebastian.

  “You’re up early this morning,” I answered. “Long night of marathon sex?”

  “More like a long night of playing Dr. Phil,” he said. “The woman I picked up at the bar couldn’t stop talking about her ex. It’s not worth a recap, trust me. Where the hell are you?”