I’d felt out of place since the auction but standing in Fletcher Hines's house—mansion—was something out of a storybook.

The floors sparkled as if someone continuously cleaned them every hour on the hour and wealth dripped from every square inch. I couldn’t fathom living here.

It wasn’t cozy like my apartment. It felt too perfect to touch.

Fletcher’s heavy brows furrowed over his dark eyes as I stepped toward his father’s desk, close to ...