It was perfect. The lof apartment was on the third floor, with a breath-taking view of Silver Point and the mountains in the distance, where the sun dipped every afternoon. All of the living room, kitchen, and small dining area was open planned, not that I used either that much.

There was a single love seat, a coffee table under masses of paper, and a flat-screen TV that made up my sparse living room. The kitchen wasn't far better, I owned a fridge, kettle and a microwave. All bare necessities, nothing flashy.

My easel stood in front of the big floor to the ceiling glass window with my latest painting almost finished. Part of the glass door could slide open to a small balcony that I had decked out with about as many pot plants as the poor thing could take.

I couldn't believe my luck when I stumbled onto this place, it was every artist's dream to have their very own loft apartment. This one had brick walls, grey floors, and enough space to hold all of my works. It was perfect and the price even better. With my meager salary at the art gallery, I had struck gold when I found this place. Or so I thought.

Another ear-splitting wail permitted the only non-brick wall in the apartment. The same one I had admired for its pale blue color and feeling of serenity, when I first walked into this place.

I gritted my teeth and brought the brush back down, intending to make a light stroke to blend the orange and yellow hues together for the perfect sunset.

"Yes, Liam!"

The brush slipped, dragging a thick orange line across the canvas. My eyes went wide in horror. I had spent two weeks trying to get the sunset of my new apartment just perfect and now, it was ruined. My paint sploshed fingers gripped the brush until I was afraid it would splinter in my hands.

If only Mr. Roberts had told me that I would be sharing this gorgeous loft with the most obnoxious, self-centered, womanizing-sleaze ball ever, I may have thought twice about moving in. He didn't say anything and it wouldn't take a genius to figure out why. And that's when the banging started before the woman screamed loud enough to burst eardrums.

Jesus, what did he have in there? A freaking opera singer?

I flinched, praying that it was over quickly but I've never had luck on my side. As the noise continued, shattering my silence, my annoyance flared into anger. For the past two weeks, that jerk has been going out of his way to annoy me.

Loud music blared and the sound of heavy equipment banging against the floors, started every morning at five sharp. The mud he tracked all along the stairs, the obnoxious banging and screaming. For two very long weeks, I had to listen to that awful dying animal sound.

The car garage below us was always buzzing until late in the night. Power tools stole the silence until it felt like they were drilling into my brain.

I. Have. Had. Enough.

I tossed the used brush on the coffee table, marched to the kitchen, and grabbed the broom. Then I started banging it against the wall as hard as I could. "Keep it down asshat! Some of us are trying to work."

Abruptly, the noise stopped and I thought for a second I had won. Then there was a hard knock on my door and I wondered for a minute if it was him.

No, it couldn't be. Mr. I'm-too-freaking-perfect would never stop his romp because of little old me.

So, I pulled the door open and nearly unhinged my jaw. Never in my life have I seen a man this gorgeous. His ash-blonde hair was tousled and curled around his face. He had a single stud in his bottom lip on the left side, which he tugged at with his teeth.

My eyes dipped to the tattoos on his chest, a dark red dragon, that snaked all the way past the waistband of his grey shorts. Even his arm we're covered in ink and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't look away.

"Had your fill yet? Or maybe you'd like to join us?" He drawled.

So he's pretty until he opens his mouth. My cheeks caught fire, burning into my ears and my eyes snapped up to meet his. My mortification turned into anger. "I'd rather be dry fucked by a cactus in the artic, thank you. Now keep it down."

His eyes went wide for a split second before a wicked grin took over his face, "So, the little fire's got some bite."

Gritting my teeth, I squared my shoulders and rose to my full height. Which, just to be fair, wasn't that impressive. "For two weeks, you have been making the worse amount of noise I've ever heard and I've had enough. So, please just be a little considerate of your neighbors."

He tapped his chin and took a step back. "Only two weeks? I must be losing my touch. You know, there's an easy solution to all your problems."

I wanted to strangle him, claw out his eyes, and then feed it to him but I kept my cool. Then there was my body's reaction, my skin flushed hot and my heartbeat drummed in my ears.

"Do tell."

"You can move. Then maybe Mr. Roberts will finally sell this place to me and I don't have to worry about pesky neighbors."

I laughed, hard enough to send a jolt to my side. "Sorry, but that's not an option. See, I have this thing called a lease agreement and if I break it, I lose my deposit. Besides, I love my apartment, I'm not moving."

He took a step forward until he had me trapped in my doorway. The heat in my veins flared, my breath lodged in my throat, and for the first time in my life, I was speechless.

"No, Little Fire. You have me in your life now and soon, you'll realize your deposit is the least of your worries. If I were you, I'd just give up now and save myself the hassle."

The words 'give up' struck a painful chord in my chest. It reminded me of my father, and that sour feeling snuffed out the fire in my veins.

I shoved at his chest and he had the decency to pretend to stumble. "Listen here Asshat, I do not give up. This is my apartment and I'll be damned if some dipshit tries to chase me out."

He sighed before shooting me a cocky grin. "Then this is going to be really hard for you." He placed both hands flat on the doorway and leaned closer, "I'm the neighbor from hell."

"Yeah, and I'm Tinkerbell!" I said rolling my eyes, "just do me favor, put a sock in her mouth or something."

Then I took a step further into my apartment and slammed the door in his face.

Insufferable man-child!

"Come on, Little Fire don't be like that," he called on the other side of the door.

I clenched my jaw. "My name is not Little Fire! So stop calling me that."

He laughed, the deep sound rumbling through the door. "This is going to be a lot of fun. Oh, and just so you know, slamming the door in someone's face is rather rude."

I slammed my back against the door and pinched the bridge of my nose. "Don't you have anything better to do? I mean, your wailing banshee is probably waiting for you!"

He chuckled. "See you soon, Little Fire."

The top of my anger popped open. "Fuck of, Asshat!"

I heard him laugh, followed by a door closing down the hall and sank to the floor. Why did he rile me up so much? Why did I even let it bother me? He was nothing more than a man-child stuck in puberty.

The less I saw of him, the better.

It was a long day. I hicked up the grocery bag just before it ripped, spilling the contents of the bag on the floor.

"Shit!"

The day just went from bad to worse, Ferdi had called my latest work banal and unappealing. Boring and without zest. That primadonna wouldn't know art if it bit him in the ass. But, could I voice that opinion? No, because I needed the job, and Ferdi could open doors in the art world for me. If I managed to impress him.

I hunkered down and started packing my groceries in my art bag. Tears pricked at my eyes as my father's incessant voice spoke in my head.

Art is not a career, it's a hobby. When are you going to apply yourself and get a real job?

I refused to cry, I knew when I chose art over a business scholarship it wasn't going to be easy. I knew it was going to take a lot of work and a lot of rejection. The fact that my father didn't believe in me, was something I carried with me every day.

After pilling in my groceries, I threw the bag over my shoulder and jogged up the stairs. It was late in the afternoon and I was going to attempt to repaint the sunset. It was all I could think about through that horrible day.

My beautiful apartment in the afternoon sun. My very own new beginning.

I walked down the corridor and froze when I reached my door. Where my door was supposed to be was a big hole, leaving my apartment wide open.

I blinked, then blinked again before anger seized my body. The bag fell from my shoulder and my mouth dropped open.

He didn't.

Oh, but he did. The evidence was right in front of me and only three people had a key to this building. I doubt Mr. Roberts would steal my door.

I marched to his door and started banging my fists against the wood. "Open up Asshat! I know it was you!"

The door swung open to reveal the bain of my existence, standing there fully clothed this time.

"Yes?" He said before dramatically fluttering his eyes.

"Where is my door?" I balled my fists at my side, "I know you took it."

Just then I noticed that he wasn't alone, standing behind him, stood three equally attractive men. My eyes swung back to him in a split second because I didn't care about them, it only meant witnesses to his murder.

"Why, not even a 'hello' Little Fire. You really are a rude one."

One of the men stepped closer to the door until I shot him a withering glare. "For shit's sake, Liam. What did you do now?" The man asked.

Liam, or Asshat as I like to call him, rolled his eyes. "Nothing Litte Fire here didn't deserve, Layton."

I took a deep breath to calm my raging anger but it was no use. I was about to commit first-degree murder. "My name, is not Little Fire, it's Hannah. Now put my goddamed door back before I rip off your balls!"

Liam tapped his chip with his index finger, as if thinking something over, then he grinned. "No, you slammed a door in my face. I'm just teaching you some manners."

After the day I had, all I wanted to do, was come home, paint, and relax now this asshole made sure that's not possible. I was quite known for my temper but at that moment I reigned it in.

I lifted my chin. "Put my door back right now, or you'll be sorry."

My voice was soft and calm, far calmer than what I was actually feeling.

Liam cackled, doubling over and clutching his stomach. Then he wiped the tears from his eyes. "Oh, man. It's adorable when you try to be intimidating. But the answer is still no."

The door creaked loudly before being shut in my face, mere inches from my nose. I stood there for a minute with a dumbstruck look on my face.

I could pound on the door, scream my head off until he put the door back, but I had a feeling that wouldn't work. No, not with Liam.

"He stole my door, Ella!" I screamed into the phone. "And when I asked him to put it back, he slammed a door in my face."

I heard Ella laugh on the other end of the line. "Wow, and this guy is still alive, right? You're not calling me to help you get rid of a body?"

"Well, I might still kill him. The jury is still out on that one but what the hell am I supposed to do? I can't just move. All my savings are tied up in this place and I can't ask my dad for money."

Ella sighed. "Am I hearing this right? The Hannah Stone, is going to let some frat boy win?"

"I'm not letting him do anything!"

"Listen babe, the way I see it is this guy is used to having things his way. He calls the shots and everyone dances to his tune. So, shake things up a bit." She laughed, "you're Hannah Stone, for goodness sake, the prank queen of Willow Lake."

A slow smile began to form on my lips and a plan took root inside my brain. "You're right, time to give Asshat a taste of his own medicine."

This was war, and I was ready to do some serious damage.