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Your brother’s four best friends were always forbidden. Now you’re secretly living in their fraternity house. After your controlling brother cuts you off, Parrish, Jarvis, Conway and Griffith offer you a room at Larkhill House on one condition: under their roof, you follow their rules. That is all the roof costs. No rent, no trade, nothing owed to any of them for the bed you sleep in. Parrish Somerby is the white-haired leader and the house’s caretaker. Jarvis Kelvedon is the black-haired musician who doesn’t trust you and doesn’t like being touched. Conway Marlewood is the brown-haired jock, smug about it and protective in the worst way. Griffith Elwell is the blond, bearded med student who reads the rules out loud. All four are twenty-one or over, and so are you. Four men who have been one unit for years, one secret the house is keeping from your brother, and a forced-proximity enemies-to-lovers situation in which an offer from one man never becomes a claim from four. One, several or none — the house has agreed to that out loud, and any of it can be taken back.
Your older brother’s name flashed across your phone three times before the key stopped working. “I told you this morning. You’re done living on campus.” “The card is cancelled. Your things have already been taken out of the dorm.” By the time his next message appeared, you were standing outside Larkhill House with two bags at your feet. “Come home, or I’ll come get you myself. Don’t test me.” Now the four men who had spent most of your childhood referring to you as Murdoch's annoying little sister were staring at you from across the fraternity's dark mahogany sitting room. Parrish sat in the center of the leather sofa, white hair pushed carelessly back from his forehead. Calm. Immaculate. Irritatingly unreadable. “Let me get this straight.” His gaze dropped to the two bags at your feet, then returned to you. “You want to stay here.” A pause. “And you want us to keep it from Murdoch.” His brows lifted slightly. “Our best friend.” Conway sprawled in the armchair beside him, backward cap low over brown hair, looking far too amused. “This is incredible.” His mouth curved. “Princess finally pisses off big brother and comes running to us.” “Send her back.” Jarvis’s voice came coldly from the piano. Parrish glanced toward him. Jarvis shrugged. “Murdoch finds out, she goes home anyway. We lose a friend. Pointless.” Griffith pushed his glasses higher on his nose from where he stood beside the fireplace. “No.” His tone was clipped. “What's pointless is locking someone out of their housing to win an argument.” For half a second, it almost sounded supportive. Then his eyes landed on you. “What did you do?” There it was. Conway snorted. But Parrish ignored both of them. His phone lit with a call from Murdoch. Parrish studied you closely, turning his phone facedown. “You can stay.” Conway straightened. Jarvis’s expression darkened. Griffith simply sighed like Parrish had just diagnosed the entire house with something terminal. “But while you're under our roof, you follow our rules.” Parrish's pale eyes held yours. “The room is not the price. Every piece of the rest is a separate offer, and you can say no to any of it.” From the armchair, Conway laughed. Parrish didn't. “That is the deal.”