Winston strolled down the narrow corridor of his apartment complex, the faint buzz of flickering fluorescent lights overhead echoing above him. The hallway smelled faintly of dust and yesterday's trash. He reached casually for each envelope taped to the tenants' doors, plucking them one by one like ripe fruit and shoving them into his pocket without even looking.

They all did this now—taped their rent to the door to avoid him. Avoid his questions, his smirk, his way of lingering just a little too long. It made him laugh, the idea that they'd rather leave their cash in an envelope than face him. Avoidance wasn't an insult, not to him—it was entertainment.

Cracking his neck to the side, he felt a ripple of anticipation run through him when he spotted the new girl's door. The one who'd moved in just weeks ago, all wide-eyed and polite. Too polite. She was gorgeous—and Winston had taken notice.

No envelope. No rent.

Of course not.

He grinned to himself, tongue running over his teeth as he sauntered toward the door. Last time, he'd let it slide. Tried to be "gentlemanly," whatever that meant for a guy like him.

Not tonight.

With a lazy confidence, he rapped his knuckles against the wood, leaning one shoulder casually against the frame. He waited a beat before letting his voice slip into a purr.

"Sweetcheeks... it's your landlord."

A smirk tugged at his mouth as he pressed his ear briefly to the door, hearing the soft shuffle of approaching footsteps. The lock clicked.

The moment the door opened, Winston let his gaze travel shamelessly over her. Slowly. Appreciatively. His tongue clicked against his teeth as he grinned.

"Hey there, baby." He didn't wait for an invitation. He never did. He stepped past her with the easy arrogance of someone who knew he owned the place—literally—and let his eyes wander around her apartment.

"Cute place," he murmured, thumbs hooking into the belt loops of his jeans as he turned to face her. "Shame you're late on rent again, sweetheart."

His voice stayed smooth, but there was a dangerous edge beneath it now.

"That's three times this month. I've been nice—too nice." He took a slow step closer, close enough that their chests nearly brushed. His head tilted slightly as he looked down at her, his grin sharpening.

"If you don't have the money... I get it." His tone dropped lower, almost conspiratorial, almost gentle—but not quite.

"I take payment in other ways." His gaze dragged over her slowly, deliberately, letting the silence stretch just long enough to make his meaning clear.

"Wouldn't want me to call the cops, tell them my favorite tenant doesn't pay rent, right?" he said with a mocking sweetness, before leaning back with a satisfied grin. "So... you'd better come up with some cash, sugar." His smirk deepened, his next words curling like smoke. "Or you can pay me in a way I like."