Chaos: When A Billionaire Meets A Secret Agent

With painstakingly concealed irritation, Isla stormed out of her room and walked the six paces, to stand at the apartment door of George. She knocked like a maniac, pouring her anger out on the innocent door and cursing the stupidity in human form that lived behind it. The equally stupid music was too loud and made her wonder if he could even hear her. How was the moron not dead? Sorry, deaf? She rapped against the door even harder, banging her body against it for good measure. That was what he turned a civilized lady like her into --a wild, snarling, and soon-to-be tone-deaf woman.

Finally, that obnoxious music was turned down and footsteps approached the door.

Isla took a step back and waited for the door to open. Her face in a scowl, blue, almond-shaped eyes narrowed, and her hands fisted at her sides. She prayed they will remain there because she desperately wanted to punch the idiot that dared disturb her peace. The metal door at last opened to reveal a tall, olive-skinned man. He was almost a foot taller than Isla, and she was far from short at her 5'8. He was built like a Greek god, with well-proportioned muscles and an even olive skin. She cleared her throat, locking eyes with those honey-colored eyes that belonged to the current ban of her existence, George.

Whatever she had planned to say, however, went down the mental drain when her eyes, unbidden, traveled down. George was only wearing skin-colored boxers. Who on earth answered their door only wearing boxers?! And skin-colored ones at that! It wasn't the first time Isla saw the guy this way. George had the audacity to walk to the gate outside and back in only his boxers…or a towel. Those muscles though...that smooth-looking skin-- Isla quickly averted her eyes back to his face.

George looked back at her with a blank expression, but she could see his lips twitching in amusement. The idiot had caught her staring. She narrowed her eyes dangerously at him, and his lips seemed to twitch even more.

"You are not the only one in this residence with a sound system. Turn down that rubbish noise you call music, or I will call the police," she snarled.

George leaned against the doorway, grinning and revealing his pearly white teeth. "Oh, don't tell me you don't like rock and roll," he said, leaning in closer, his eyes slowly scanning her face. "Maybe you should come over one of these days and let me show you how I can 'rock' your world as we roll in the sheets." He winked.

She scowled at him. He was not only a moron but also a shameless flirt. Isla's glare intensified. He could take that offer and shove it where the sun doesn't shine. "This is my final warning. Next time, I promise you, I will call the cops. Keep your damn music to yourself."

George crossed his arms, frowning. "You know, you have to be the only one here who complains about my music. Everyone else thinks it's cool. Does that mean you're stuck up, or do you just have something personal against me? You don't respond to my greetings, or anyone else's for that matter. You walk around like there's a dark cloud above your head."

Isla's eyes narrowed. It seemed like he had been waiting for her to knock on his door so he could spew all the rubbish he just did. "Well, there is a dark cloud over my head, and if you're not careful, it's going to rain down hard on you."

A smile danced on George's lips, his eyes twinkling. Isla couldn't help but feel like she had walked right into a trap.

"If you want to see me wet, all you have to do is ask, darling."

Suppressing the images that flooded her mind at his words, Isla took a step away from him and tried to soften her voice. She needed to be more civil. "Just reduce the volume, that's all I'm asking."

With that, she turned on her heel and headed back to her apartment.

"You didn't use the magic word!" George called after her, his bald head sticking out into the hallway.

Unable to resist, she glanced back at him with a sneer. "Consider this your final warning!" she shouted, entering her own apartment and slamming the door behind her.

George smirked and whispered to himself, "Hardly."

Isla had dealt with terrible neighbors before, but none of them could compare to the current one next door. It wasn't even the weed-smoking freak living above her, with his noisy early morning prayers and clapping that echoed through the floor. Nor was it Eva, the landlord's daughter, who would burn incense in the backyard, filling Isla's apartment with an unpleasant scent. Despite her efforts to address the issue with the landlord, he refused to take action, claiming to be a liberal father who supported his daughter's spiritual practices. It wasn't even the nosy lady living above Eva, always prying into Isla's life, questioning how she could afford a brand new Ferrari without a man in her life.

No, it was the new tenant, George, who had been driving her insane for over three months now. As Isla tried to focus on her newly published book, her almond-shaped eyes scanned the pages. She struggled to keep her hands from clenching into fists around the hardcover. However, her concentration was shattered by another loud bang against the wall of her apartment.

"You still want to have a go!?" she heard George scream. "Come on, boy, come on!" Isla furrowed her perfectly shaped brows. Was he talking to a dog?

"I'm gonna get you," a stranger's voice replied, followed by George's breathless laughter. Isla raised an eyebrow. So, it wasn't a dog. She shook her head and tried to refocus on her book. They weren't even fighting seriously—just two grown men roughhousing like kids. Could George be any more immature?

Another loud crash against the wall between her and George's apartment made her grit her teeth, and she couldn't take it anymore.

Grabbing a half-empty paint bucket she had used for repainting her kitchen, she filled it with cold water. Someone needed a serious wake-up call. Isla headed toward her front door, fully intending to douse the two troublemakers with the mixture. But before she could take four steps, the wall connecting her room with George's collapsed.