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It's currently two in the morning and I'm still lying awake, thinking about Vince's stupid offer. I don't know what to actually think. I mean... I get where he's coming from but I just can't bring myself to agree. I want to, I see how it would help me and God, do I need the help. But it just feels wrong. It is wrong, actually.

I sat up with a huff, throwing the covers off. I climbed out, pulling on my slippers and grabbing my phone off my nightstand. I went out and grabbed my apartment keys from the coat hanger, and then left. If I'm facing sleepless nights because of this disaster Vince threw at me, then so will he. I made it downstairs and despite the time, cabs were cruising down the streets, so I hailed one. "Carlisle apartments, please," I exhaled.

He started driving, glancing at me in the rearview mirror. "Ma'am."

"Yes?"

"Can I ask you somethin'? If you don't mind, I mean."

I already know what he's going to ask me. "Sure," I mumbled hesitantly.

"Are you Demi Vaughn? Vince Hunter's assistant?"

"Yes, I—" I stopped myself. "No," I said softly, "not anymore."

"Oh, but you were, right?"

I looked at him through the rearview mirror. "Is that a problem?"

"No, not at all. I saw you at one of the games here in Boston last season. I'm a big fan," he laughed softly, "Royal Riders is the best team Boston has, I go to a game every season with my grandson. We saw you there near the entrance to the rink. I figured when we saw you talkin' to the Vince Hunter, you must be his girlfriend, but... I found out uh, recently, that you were his assistant. Is he really as tall and big as he seems?"

"Bigger," I snorted.

"Well, you weren't in the press earlier but I saw you at every game, so I figured Vince Hunter must be happy to have an assistant like you. I mean, how come the press never says his parents came for his games?"

I just listened for the rest of the drive while he talked about how much he and his grandson loved Vince and I thought about what he said. How come his parents are never shown attending his games? It's because they never do. Not even his mom.

"Thank you so much." I used the QR code on the back of the seat to pay from my phone and then got out, heading inside, let in by the doorman who knew me very well.

"Long time no see," he sang.

"Mr. Harris," I chuckled, walking to the reception desk. I stopped in front of Vanya, the receptionist here on most days.

She took a double-take at me before squealing softly. "You're here."

I frowned in confusion. "You seem awfully excited to see me," I laughed.

"Mr. Hunter has been rather... snappy towards building staff since you quit working with him. He'd always come home and the staff could tell he wasn't doing too good," she explained quickly while grabbing the key card for the penthouse and handing it to me.

"Is that so?" I mumbled.

She nodded.

"Well uh, I'm not working for him again. Just... tying up loose ends with him."

She pouted softly.

"See you around," I said, heading to the elevator and upstairs. The elevator doors opened and it was pitch black in the penthouse. I stepped out a few feet and the automatic ceiling lights turned on. I sighed, pocketing the key card and taking a look around.

The place was kept clean for the most part, but I feel like that's not Vince, that's the housemaid who he hired. She's always been there, she comes once a week, cleans the place until every tile sparkles, and then leaves.

I headed up to his room, not sure if he was awake or sleeping. I reached his door, rubbing my palms on my sweatpants nervously, and then knocked three times. I didn't hear anything. I knocked again but still, there was no response. Isn't he home? I pushed the door open and could make out that the covers were all messed up but he was nowhere to be seen.

Before I could call out his name, I heard him move behind the door. He grabbed my wrist, yanking me back before I could comprehend. I let out a gasp and then a soft grunt as my back hit the wall while he grabbed my other wrist as well, pinning both of them to the wall, his grip so hard, it would definitely bruise. I winced softly, closing my eyes as pain shot up my back.

He paused for a moment, probably realizing who I was. "Demi?"

I opened my eyes, meeting his in the dark, the room only illuminated by the light from outside. "Ouch," I said through gritted teeth.

His grip softened on my wrist and he closed his eyes, taking in a breath. "I didn't know it was you. I thought someone was breaking in."

"How would someone break-in? The elevator takes a key card."

He stared down at me, realizing that I was right. "Ah, right."

He's standing so close to me.

He let me go, taking a few steps back and sitting on the edge of his bed, running a hand through his hair before falling back.

I noticed his window blinds were open, but that was tinted too, so even if someone was living across from him, nobody could see through the glass. The moonlight also poured in and shone right on Vince, alerting me that he had no shirt on. I blinked away, staring at the ground.

He sat upright again. "What um..." He cleared his throat, his voice sounded husky and hoarse. He was sleeping. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

"I couldn't sleep," I mumbled.

He hesitated, "So?"

I shot him a pointed look. "I couldn't sleep because of what you told me."

He stared at me for a minute in the dark. "Have you made up your mind or do you want to talk about it?"

"I think we should talk."

He paused. "Now?"

I stared at him in disbelief.

"I have practice tomorrow morning."

"Not my problem," I gritted out. "I'm here for you right now."

He sighed and nodded slowly. "Fine. Go ahead." He scooted back, sitting on one side of the bed, his eyes closing.

"Not here where you can fall asleep."

He looked at me again, lifting a brow.

"Downstairs."

He let out a huff while I pushed myself off the wall and went into his kitchen. I grabbed both of us a water bottle each while he sat on the barstool.

He drank some water and then rested his arms on the table. "Tell me."

"I don't think this is a good idea," I sighed.

He watched me carefully, quietly.

"And I don't think it's going to work."

"Why?"

I thought of a way to explain to him what I felt in a way that he would understand. "Because I don't think we respect each other the way we should. It doesn't matter what kind of relationship it is, between any two people and any relationship, there has to be mutual respect. Otherwise, it just doesn't work. And it's not a believable relationship."

"And you don't think we respect each other?"

My eyes narrowed at him. "Actually, I don't think you respect me."

He frowned in confusion.

"I respect you," I continued, "at least I did, now I'm not too sure. But I still respect parts of you."

"What parts of me?"

"The hockey player part of you. I met you and was your assistant for two years. I know you well enough to know how seriously you take hockey and how dedicated you are to it. I respect that you're hardworking. But I don't respect your attitude, Vince. Especially the one you always had with me."

"Demi, you were my assistant."

"Assistants shouldn't be respected then?"

"That's not what I said."

We both sat quietly for a minute.

"Vince, you're an amazing player. But you're... not a good boss, sorry to say. You were mean and rude. You never said the words 'sorry' 'thank you' or even 'please' until it came down to this. Until you needed me for your own good. Don't you see how wrong that is? I mean, imagine if I was like that. You never even said 'good morning' to me."

"I said goodnight."

I stared at him in disbelief before, twisting the bottle open and drinking some water while thinking about pouring the rest down his head.

Don't do it, Demi.

"But I get your point," he admitted. "If I don't change my attitude, you won't do it. Right?"

I nodded softly.

"And if I do?"

"Huh?"

"If I'm able to treat you better when you're my assistant this time. Will you do it?"

I hesitated but nodded nonetheless.

"Then I'll do it," he said easily. "I'll be a better boss. It'll be easier to do since in public I have to be a good... boyfriend," he cleared his throat. "I'll try. I'll be a better boss and I'll be a decent boyfriend."

"Decent?"

He huffed, "Demi, I haven't dated anyone since I was in college, give me a break."

I bit back a laugh and nodded. "But what about your half of responsibilities?"

He lifted a brow.

"You promised me a place to stay. Where am I going to stay?"

He paused, scratching the back of his neck. "Here."

"What?" I scoffed.

"Hear me out," he rushed, "there's an apartment on the floor right below mine. The tenants are a couple but she's pregnant, they found out a while ago. I was asking the building owner if he knows any good apartment buildings nearby and I said a friend of mine is looking for a place. He told me that they'll move out after having the baby, they'll be buying a house instead. It's just a matter of one year, at most. They'll have the baby in nine months, wait a few months, and then leave. It's a two-bedroom apartment, it's much better than your current apartment and the rent isn't your problem, I'll buy it for you."

I paused, processing it.

"You can stay in the guest room here until then. And then you can move out. So... this will be your home."

Home.

"Hmm," I mumbled, contemplating it. It doesn't sound like a bad idea, there shouldn't be a problem.

"So?"

My eyes met his.

"Will you do it?"

Being his assistant again and being his fake girlfriend is something I really don't want to do. But I need an apartment and I really need help paying off that debt. I don't want my parents to deal with it any more than they already had to and I can't deal with it any time soon. Pros and cons considered, it seems like a good idea.

"Yes," I said, "I'll do it."

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