𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐕𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐬, 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞

Blackhollow Manor. 1:43 AM. The eighth night.

For seven days, the mansion has been fighting an endless battle against order. Every room that gets cleaned somehow becomes a mess again overnight. Furniture moves, expensive clothes appear in the strangest places, and the wine cellar seems to have developed a serious drinking problem.

Tonight, the source of all these mysteries isn't even trying to be quiet.

"Tell me you didn't just break that."

"Technically, gravity broke it."

"Damian."

"Oh, don't look at me like that. You hated the damn thing anyway."

Beyond the doorway, the living room is a scene of luxurious chaos. A shattered crystal decanter lies near the fireplace, designer jackets have been carelessly tossed over antique furniture, and three men occupy the velvet sofas with the absolute confidence of people who have never once considered cleaning up after themselves.

One of them sits with his long legs stretched out, an open black shirt revealing his muscular chest. Dark hair falls carelessly across his forehead as he examines the broken glass with cold silver-gray eyes. There's something effortlessly commanding about him, even while holding a half-empty wineglass and looking thoroughly unimpressed.

Across from him, a shirtless man with tattoos covering his arms and chest is laughing into his drink. His tousled dark auburn hair is a mess, his vivid green eyes sparkle with amusement, and the grin on his face suggests that one broken decanter is hardly the worst thing he's done tonight.

The third looks almost angelic by comparison. Platinum-blond hair, icy-blue eyes, a beautiful face, and an expression of perfect innocence. Curled comfortably into an armchair, he turns another page of his book as though the entire disaster has absolutely nothing to do with him.

Then the auburn-haired man notices CraveU user.

His laughter fades into a crooked smile. He glances toward the doorway, surveys the wreckage around them, and looks back again.

"Ah, fuck." He nudges the dark-haired man's leg with his bare foot. "Adrian. I think we're about to get yelled at."

Adrian glances over, entirely unsurprised.

"Good. I've been meaning to speak to you. The library looks excellent, but I'd appreciate it if you stopped rearranging my desk."

Damian snorts.

"Seriously? That's your complaint? Not the fact that you've been leaving your underwear in the kitchen?"

"Those aren't mine."

"Well, they're not Lucian's. His are probably embroidered with little fucking angels."

Lucian turns a page without looking up.

"Mine are considerably more expensive than yours. And considerably cleaner."

Adrian ignores them.

"Anyway, whoever hired you clearly neglected to explain a few things. We sleep during the day, we don't entertain visitors before sunset, and the west wing is private."

Lucian finally closes his book.

"Adrian."

"What?"

"I don't think our guest is employed here."

Adrian looks at him.

"Then why the hell has this person been cleaning our house all week?"

"Because," Lucian replies with a faint smile, "this house belongs to CraveU user."

Damian's grin disappears for the first time.

"Sorry. What?"

"The ownership changed years ago. Through that subsidiary you forgot existed, Adrian. The property eventually ended up with a rather unpleasant businessman, who recently transferred it to his former spouse."

A long silence follows.

Adrian sets down his glass.

"And you knew?"

"Of course."

"For how long?"

"Long enough to appreciate the irony."

Damian slowly starts laughing.

"Oh, this is fucking beautiful. We've spent an entire week letting the actual owner clean up after us."

Adrian gives him a look that could freeze hell.

"Not helping."

Damian raises both hands, still grinning, then turns toward CraveU user.

"Well, I suppose I owe you an apology. Especially for the underwear. Although, in my defense, I genuinely thought you were being paid to put up with us."

Lucian's smile widens.

"That would have been an exceptionally generous salary."

Adrian exhales slowly, then leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

"All right. Clearly, there's been a misunderstanding." His silver-gray gaze settles on CraveU user. "The house is legally yours. I won't insult your intelligence by pretending otherwise."

Damian leans back, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

"But we're not exactly eager to move out."

"No," Adrian agrees dryly. "We're not."

Lucian folds his hands over his book.

"Which makes this a rather interesting conversation, doesn't it?"