Rich Girl Throws Tantrum After A Penthouse Contractual Nightmare

Downstairs, the crowd was still buzzing, the whispers now mixed with laughter and disbelief.

"Dude, this can't be real."

"I don't know, man. It's giving serious soap-opera vibes."

"I'm telling you, it's like one of those spicy romance books where the dude's all dominant, and the girl's just... yeah."

Parker leaned back against the elevator wall, his smirk barely contained.

The system chimed again, and his smirk turned downright devilish.

[Ding! Host has received three random spins for achieving a rapid affection increase.]

'Oh, this is just the beginning,' Parker thought, already planning his next move.

****

As Parker stepped into the penthouse, his eyes immediately darted around the space, taking it all in.

The ceilings were high—like stupidly high—and the floor-to-ceiling windows were showing off L.A in all its glowing, chaotic glory.

It wasn't just a room; it was a statement. The skyline sparkled like a thousand tiny promises just for him.

"Damn," Parker muttered under his breath, walking further in. A massive gray sectional sat front and center, practically screaming, Come sit your tired ass down. A glossy coffee table sat in front of it, looking so polished you could probably see your soul in it.

Overhead, a fancy spiral chandelier hung like it belonged in a museum, its soft lights bouncing off everything perfectly.

Vanessa, still in her professional mode, gestured smoothly as she started her pitch. "So, Mr. Black, here's the simple rundown. You've got a private chef on call, a butler service if you prefer it, access to a personal concierge team for anything you might need—day or night. There's an in-room spa over there," she motioned toward a sleek door, "and, of course, a private terrace with a hot tub that overlooks the city. You can visit the rooftop if you prefer that as well. All requests can be made through the control panel!" She pointed to a sleek touchscreen on the wall like it was straight out of a sci-fi movie.

Tessa, standing off to the side, looked… complicated. She didn't say anything, but her eyes betrayed her. She was trying to act like this was just another Tuesday—like she wasn't impressed—but her jaw had tightened just a bit, and Parker caught her sneaking glances at the chandelier and the view. He smirked slightly.

Even for someone who probably rolled her eyes at "basic rich kid things," Blackstone Tower's penthouse had that wow factor no one could really ignore.

"That's enough," Parker said, cutting Vanessa off mid-sentence. His tone was ice-cold, like he was over the whole explanation before it even started.

He walked further inside, his footsteps muffled by the plush rugs. Tessa stayed frozen near the door, her chaotic thoughts practically written all over her face, though she still refused to speak.

Parker didn't need her to. He already knew what she'd do next.

As Vanessa wrapped up her tour, she gave Parker a small nod before quietly excusing herself. The soft click of the door closing behind her felt louder than it should have, leaving Parker and Tessa alone in the massive penthouse.

It didn't take long for Tessa to snap. "I'm not doing this!" she blurted out, her voice bouncing off the high ceilings. She planted her feet firmly on the marble floor, her arms crossing like a petulant kid about to throw a tantrum.

"You think I'm just gonna follow you around like… like some personal maid or something? You've got another thing coming!"

Parker didn't even flinch. He casually walked over to the massive sectional, his movements slow, deliberate, like he had all the time in the world. Taking a seat, he leaned back, spreading his arms along the backrest, owning the space like it was his throne.

His piercing gaze locked onto her, and for a second, Tessa's bravado faltered.

"You done?" His voice was calm, too calm, like a parent dealing with a kid who didn't realize they'd already lost the argument.

Tessa's eyes flared. "I'm not your servant, okay? This whole—whatever this is—it's ridiculous! I can't believe I'm even standing here listening to this crap. You don't own me!"

Parker smirked, the kind of smirk and said, "Oh, sweetheart, you don't get it, do you? First of all," he started, his tone icy but smooth, "I don't need your permission. You already agreed, remember? That whole 'yes' back in the lobby? Yeah, that sealed the deal."

Tessa opened her mouth to protest, but Parker raised a hand, silencing her instantly. "Second," he continued, leaning forward now, his elbows resting on his knees, "you're here because you know you screwed up. If you didn't, you'd be long gone, probably yelling about your daddy's lawyers or whatever rich kid safety net you've got."

Her cheeks flushed, and Parker caught the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. "But you didn't do that," he pressed, his voice dropping lower. "Instead, you're here, standing in my penthouse, because you're trying to fix this without anyone finding out. So, let's cut the drama."

Tessa glared at him, but she didn't say anything. He could see her mind working, the gears turning as she tried to come up with a counter-argument and failed.

"You've got two choices," Parker said, leaning back again. "You can stomp your feet, scream, and make a scene like a spoiled brat—which, by the way, will only make me think less of you. Or—and I'd recommend this one—you can shut up, listen, and deal with the next five days like an adult you're supposed to be." His eyes narrowed. "Your call."

The room was silent, except for the faint hum of the city outside. Tessa clenched her fists, biting her lip so hard Parker wondered if she'd draw blood.

Finally, she let out a frustrated huff, her shoulders slumping slightly.

"Fine," she muttered through gritted teeth.

Parker tilted his head, pretending not to hear. "What was that?"

"I said fine!" she snapped, louder this time.

"Good," he said with a lazy grin, standing up and walking past her like she wasn't even there. "Now that we've got that settled, let's get started."

***

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