HATING MR. STERLING

Charlotte Bennett was beginning to regret moving to London.

Not because of the expensive rent, the unpredictable weather, or the fact that a simple cup of coffee could cost more than her lunch.

No.

She regretted moving because her new neighbour was apparently determined to make her first morning in the building miserable.

And she hadn't even met him yet.

It started at seven fifteen in the morning.

Charlotte was standing in the middle of her living room, surrounded by half-opened boxes, when someone started banging on her front door.

She frowned.

"Coming!"

The banging continued.

"Unless the building is on fire, you can give me a second!"

She hurried towards the door, nearly tripping over a box labelled KITCHEN, and pulled it open.

A tall man stood outside.

He wore a perfectly fitted black suit, a white shirt and an expression that suggested he had never been pleased to see another human being in his entire life.

His dark hair was neatly styled. His jaw was sharp, and his expensive-looking watch probably cost more than Charlotte's entire collection of furniture.

He looked at her.

Then at the boxes behind her.

Then back at her.

"Are you planning to turn this entire floor into a storage facility?"

Charlotte blinked.

"Good morning to you too."

"Your delivery men blocked the corridor yesterday."

"They were delivering my furniture."

"At eleven at night."

"Yes. That's usually when delivery companies finish their routes."

His expression didn't change.

"Some people have jobs and need sleep."

Charlotte slowly looked him up and down.

"And some people apparently wake up every morning looking for someone to annoy."

His eyes narrowed.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

He glanced towards the corridor.

"I expect you to keep the noise down."

Charlotte folded her arms.

"And I expect you to learn how to speak to people without sounding like a disappointed headmaster."

For a moment, neither spoke.

Then he gave a short, humourless laugh.

"You're new here, aren't you?"

"Very observant."

"Let me make something clear. I don't tolerate unnecessary noise, mess or disturbances."

"Wonderful. I don't tolerate unnecessary instructions from strangers. Looks like we're both going to have a difficult time."

His jaw tightened.

"Alexander Sterling."

Charlotte waited.

When he said nothing else, she raised an eyebrow.

"Congratulations?"

"That's my name."

"Lovely. I'm Charlotte. Now we both know something about each other."

She started closing the door.

"One more thing," he said.

Charlotte stopped.

"What now?"

"Your welcome mat is crooked."

She stared at him.

Then she looked down.

Her welcome mat was, indeed, slightly crooked.

She looked back at him.

"Thank you, Mr. Sterling. I'll make sure to inform it that you've noticed."

She closed the door.

And stood there for a moment.

Unbelievable.

Who did that man think he was?

The King of England?

Charlotte shook her head and returned to her boxes.

She had more important things to worry about.

Her event-planning company, Bennett Events, had been struggling to secure bigger clients. She had spent months saving money, building contacts and trying to establish herself in London's competitive event industry.

Moving into the building had been expensive, but she believed it was a necessary step.

She needed a fresh start.

A peaceful home.

And preferably neighbours who didn't behave like they owned oxygen.

Apparently, she had failed at the last part.

---

Across the hallway, Alexander Sterling stood in his penthouse kitchen, holding a cup of coffee.

He was not having a good morning.

He had an important meeting at nine, three contracts waiting for his approval and an investor who had been calling him since six.

And now, he had a neighbour who seemed to believe the corridor was her personal entertainment centre.

His phone rang.

He answered without looking at the screen.

"Speak."

"Good morning to you too," his assistant, Daniel, replied.

"What is it?"

"Your nine o'clock meeting has been moved to ten. Mr. Harrison is running late."

"Why?"

"Apparently, traffic."

Alexander looked towards the front door.

"Everyone has an excuse."

Daniel paused.

"Did something happen?"

"I have a new neighbour."

There was silence.

Then Daniel laughed.

Alexander frowned.

"What's funny?"

"Nothing, sir."

"Then stop laughing."

"Of course."

Alexander ended the call.

He took another sip of coffee.

From somewhere across the corridor came a loud crash.

He slowly lowered his cup.

A second later, a woman's voice followed.

"Oh, fantastic! Just fantastic!"

Alexander closed his eyes.

It was going to be a very long week.

---

By ten thirty, Charlotte had managed to unpack most of her kitchen.

She was pleased with herself.

She had also managed to burn her toast, spill coffee on her favourite blouse and discover that one of her lamps had been broken during delivery.

Still, she refused to let the day defeat her.

Her phone buzzed.

It was a message from her best friend, Olivia.

OLIVIA: How's the new apartment?

CHARLOTTE: Beautiful.

OLIVIA: And the neighbours?

CHARLOTTE: I have met Satan in a tailored suit.

OLIVIA: Already? 😂

CHARLOTTE: He complained about my welcome mat.

OLIVIA: Maybe he likes you.

CHARLOTTE: If that's his way of flirting, he needs professional help.

Charlotte laughed and placed her phone on the counter.

Then she noticed something.

Her handbag was missing.

She searched the kitchen, checked the bedroom and even looked inside the bathroom.

Nothing.

She remembered leaving it beside the lift when the delivery men arrived.

"Oh, no."

She hurried outside.

The corridor was empty.

She pressed the lift button and waited impatiently.

When the doors opened, she stepped inside.

And found herself standing beside the man in the black suit.

Of course.

Alexander glanced at her.

"Again?"

Charlotte stared at him.

"Believe me, I'm just as disappointed."

He pressed the ground-floor button.

She pressed it too.

He looked at her finger.

"It's already selected."

"Thank you. I was checking."

He returned his attention to his phone.

Charlotte tried to ignore him.

For approximately five seconds.

Then she noticed the familiar black leather handbag beside his feet.

Her handbag.

"That's mine!"

Alexander looked down.

"Is it?"

"Unless you've suddenly developed an interest in women's handbags, yes."

He picked it up and handed it to her.

"Your delivery men left it outside my door."

Charlotte took it.

"Oh. Thank you."

He nodded once.

She opened the bag to check that everything was inside.

Then she looked at him.

"You could have knocked."

"I did."

"When?"

"Twenty minutes ago."

Charlotte froze.

"Oh."

"I assume you were too busy shouting at your furniture."

She slowly closed her handbag.

"And I assume you were too busy practising your miserable expression."

The lift doors opened.

Alexander stepped out first.

"Have a pleasant day, Miss Bennett."

Charlotte followed him.

"Try having one yourself, Mr. Sterling. You might discover it's possible to smile."

He didn't turn around.

"Goodbye."

She watched him walk towards the building's main entrance.

"Charming," she muttered.

---

At eleven fifteen, Alexander arrived at Sterling International.

The glass building stood proudly in the heart of London, overlooking a busy street filled with taxis, office workers and tourists.

As CEO, Alexander had built the company into one of Britain's most successful investment and property groups.

He was respected, feared and occasionally disliked.

He preferred it that way.

People who wanted to please him rarely challenged his decisions.

And he had no patience for people who did.

"Morning, sir," Daniel greeted him as he entered the executive floor.

"What's on my schedule?"

"Your meeting with the Harrison Group, the property development review and the charity gala planning presentation."

Alexander stopped.

"The charity gala?"

"Yes. The event planner's proposal is due today."

"Who is handling it?"

"An independent company. Bennett Events."

Alexander frowned.

"Who?"

Daniel checked his tablet.

"Charlotte Bennett. The company was recommended by the board's events committee."

For a moment, Alexander said nothing.

Then he looked at Daniel.

"You're joking."

Daniel blinked.

"Is there a problem?"

Alexander removed his coat.

"Apparently, my new neighbour has decided to follow me to work."

Daniel looked confused.

"Your neighbour?"

"Forget it."

He walked into his office.

Daniel stared after him before slowly looking back at the tablet.

Bennett Events.

Charlotte Bennett.

Interesting.

---

Meanwhile, Charlotte was sitting at a small café near her office, reviewing the documents for her biggest potential client yet.

The Sterling International charity gala.

It was a prestigious event, and securing the contract could change everything for her business.

She had spent the previous evening preparing the proposal, checking the budget and making sure every detail was perfect.

Her phone rang.

"Hello, Charlotte Bennett speaking."

"Good morning, Miss Bennett. This is Daniel from Sterling International. We're expecting you for the presentation at twelve."

Charlotte sat up.

"Yes, of course. I'll be there."

"Excellent. Please ask for me at reception."

"Thank you. See you soon."

She ended the call with a satisfied smile.

Finally.

A proper opportunity.

A major client.

A chance to prove that Bennett Events could compete with the biggest names in the industry.

She took a sip of coffee.

Then opened the company profile one last time.

Sterling International.

She read the name twice.

Something about it seemed familiar.

Then she remembered.

Alexander Sterling.

Her neighbour.

Charlotte slowly lowered her cup.

"No."

She checked the address.

Then the company website.

Then the name of the CEO.

Alexander Sterling.

She leaned back in her chair.

"You have got to be kidding me."

For several seconds, she considered cancelling the meeting.

But she had bills to pay, employees to support and a business to grow.

She wasn't going to lose an opportunity because of one irritating man.

Not even if that man happened to be a billionaire.

Charlotte picked up her handbag.

"Fine, Mr. Sterling. Let's see how you behave when you're the one paying me."

She left the café.

And somewhere on the thirty-second floor of Sterling International, Alexander was already wondering how he was going to survive another meeting with his new neighbour.

Neither of them knew that their little disagreement was about to become much bigger.

And neither was prepared to lose.