My Roommate Is a Vampire(9)

“Definitely more than two hundred a month,” I hedged.

He stared at me for a moment and then closed his eyes. “I am going to kill Reginald.”

That name again. “I’m sorry, but who is Reginald?”

Frederick shook his head slightly. “Oh. I’m . . . never mind.” He sighed again and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Reginald is just . . . someone I happen to loathe. He gave me some very poor advice. But there is no need for you to worry about that, Miss Greenberg. Or about him.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. “Oh.”

“Quite.” Frederick cleared his throat and said, “In either case, I suppose what’s done is done. If you agree to rent the spare room I see no need to punish you for my mistake or your honesty by raising the price. I am happy to leave the monthly rent at two hundred dollars if you move in.”

He shrugged. As though discovering he could be getting a lot more money for his room than he was asking for was no big deal.

I couldn’t imagine not caring about losing out on that much money.

Just how rich was this guy?

Perhaps more importantly: If he didn’t care about how much money he might get from renting the room, why did he even want a roommate in the first place?

I didn’t have the courage to ask any of this.

“Thanks,” I said instead. “Keeping the rent at two hundred would really help me out.”

“Good,” he said. “Now, since we have apparently reached the asking questions phase of the tour, may I ask you a question, Miss Greenberg?”

My stomach lurched. Did my gratitude over the cheap rent tip him off that I’d exaggerated my job situation in my email? Did he somehow find out I was about to get evicted?

If that was the sort of conversation we were about to have . . .

Well. Might as well get it over with.

“Ask away,” I said, feeling nervous.

“While I sincerely hope that whoever moves into my home will feel that this is also their home, two rooms will remain strictly off-limits,” he said, with a serious expression. “Should you move in, I would need you to promise to faithfully stay out of those spaces for the duration of our cohabitation. Can you agree to this?”

“Which rooms?”

Frederick held up a single, long finger. “First, you may never enter my bedroom.”

“Of course,” I said quickly. “That makes sense.”

“Due to the nature of my . . . business, I am out of the apartment most nights and must sleep during the daytime.” He paused, taking in my reaction. “Generally speaking, I rest between the hours of five in the morning and five in the evening, although those precise times will likely fluctuate over the coming months. When I am sleeping, it is imperative that I be allowed to rest undisturbed.”

My mind snagged on the due to the nature of my business part of what he’d just said. My grasp of what CEOs and other rich business-types actually did for a living was mostly limited to what I’d seen on television—but even still I was pretty sure night shifts weren’t a regular thing for business bros.

He must be some sort of doctor, then. Doctors worked nights, right?

Either way, asking me to stay out of his room seemed fair.

“It’s your bedroom,” I said. “I get it.”

That seemed to please him. A smile spread across his face. “I’m glad you agree.”

“What’s the other room I can’t go into?”

“Ah. Right.” He pointed towards what looked like a closet at the end of the hallway. “That one.”

I frowned. “What’s in there?”

“The answer to that question is also off-limits.”

Okay—that freaked me out a little. Maybe Frederick was a murderer after all. “It’s not . . . dead people, is it?”

His eyes went wide. “Dead people?” He looked horrified, putting his hand to his chest in a way that reminded me of an old lady clutching her pearls. “God’s thumbs, Miss Greenberg! Why would you think I had dead people in my hall closet?”

He seemed to be taking the joke a bit too seriously. “Fine, no dead people. Can you at least tell me if whatever’s in there is dangerous?”

“Let’s just say I have a rather . . . embarrassing hobby.” He looked down at his feet, as though his shiny wing-tipped shoes were suddenly the most interesting things in the room. “I may one day divulge that closet’s contents with the person sharing my apartment. But if I do, it must be on my terms, at a time and in a manner I see fit.” He looked up at me again. “I will not disclose its contents today.”

“You collect lace doilies, don’t you?” I don’t know what possessed me to tease him like this. But the words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. “You have hundreds of them in that closet.”

The corner of his mouth twitched a little, like he was trying hard to fight a smile.

“No,” he said. “I do not collect lace doilies.”

He didn’t elaborate. This time I had the good sense to let the matter drop. I shrugged and said, “Either way, it’s fine. It’s your stuff, and your apartment. So, your rules.”

“Should you move in, I do hope you come to think of this as your home as well.” He stepped closer to me, dark brown eyes searching mine. His eyelashes were so long and lush, and his gaze was so penetrating, I could feel my knees going weak. He really was unfairly attractive. “Other than those two limitations you will have full, unrestricted use of this apartment.”