"Musa, nice to meet you." Riven nodded at her but made no efforts to shake the hand she'd extended to him. Musa slowly pulled her hand back, an unimpressed grimace forming on her face. She tried to tell herself that maybe he was shy and would eventually come out of his shell. He'd have to because there was no way she was living for the next who-knows-how-long with a sourpuss or a shadow.

"He's here, can we leave now?" Tecna asked bluntly, standing up from her stool. Musa rolled her eyes at the genius and motioned for her to leave. Aisha and Bloom followed suit, hugging her on their way out and insisting they call her if she needed anything. Musa nodded; she thought they were being ridiculous. Two love letters did not mean she had a stalker.

"Could you show us around?" Saladin asked, breaking the awkward moment that had settled after the girls had gone. Musa nodded and turned off the oven that she'd had preheating. From the island, she heard her phone buzz, and she was almost certain that it was Aisha or Bloom commenting on how gorgeous her new bodyguard was alongside some crude comment. Musa would reprimand them. She had a boyfriend that she was happy with, and he was her employee; it would be beyond inappropriate for her to look at him like that.

Riven followed her through the house, noting the spots he wanted Timmy to install stuff. Camera and speaker at the main entrance so they could see who was there without having to go near it, cameras in every room except the bathroom, motion detectors on the patios to start with.

The apartment was huge; more like a house that someone had stuck at the top of an apartment building. A second door in the kitchen led off to a dining room that was set for twelve people with a four-person bar in the corner. Across from the kitchen and dining room were the guest bathroom and the living room, which led off to what Musa referred to as her 'hosting patio'. Through the glass door, he could see a large, U-shaped couch and the beginning of a patio table. As he'd thought, the hall veered left after the stairs, but it didn't contain much: another door to the patio and Musa's music room, which was open. The far half of the room was clear save for a speaker set and a floor to ceiling mirror, while the front half contained a drum set, three guitars and a bass, and a grand piano. He wondered if Musa really knew how to play those or if the room was just for show. He almost asked, but Musa had moved on, mentioning that his room would be upstairs.

Like the first-floor hallway and most of the rooms on the first floor, the second floor was lined with artwork. At the top of the stairs was a door that led to what Riven assumed was the 'private patio'. He could see a pool and a hot tub through the door, and he briefly wondered if it was safe to have them there. Surely, they must weigh a ton.

"You're welcome to use them" Musa said, noticing that Riven was looking at the hot tub with particular interest. She usually only let close friends or family upstairs, but Riven, though he didn't fit in either of those categories, would be living her. It was only fair she make an exception for him.

Musa showed Riven to his room first, mentioning that she'd had a gym put in in what had been the original master bedroom that he was also free to use. She eyed him briefly, wondering just how much he worked out to get his physique. He wore a simple black t-shirt that showed off how his arms flexed every time he moved a mere inch. Even though she'd reprimand the girls for whatever salacious comments they'd made about him, Musa wouldn't mind knowing what lay beneath the shirt. If his arms looked like that, his torso must look like that of an Adonis.

Mirta coughed; breaking Musa free of the hold her wandering mind had put on her. "My, uh, my room is the door that's quite literally next to yours, so, you know, if someone breaks in and tries to murder or kidnap me or whatever, you won't have very far to go."

"You don't take this seriously?" Riven asked, pushing open the door to his new bedroom. It was and L-shaped room, painted in two shades of purple. At the far end of the room was a window with white curtains that billowed in the breeze of the open window. He had a wardrobe and dresser next to a full-length mirror beside the window. A small white desk sat a few feet from the door that would be perfect for him to set up his computer for the surveillance cameras he wanted Timmy to set up. Finally, on his right sat a king-size bed with possibly the plushest looking blanket he'd ever seen – like it had been pulled from a catalogue – and two white side tables. Beside the bed was a door that he hoped led to a private bathroom.

"I think everyone is overreacting." Musa gave Mirta a poignant look, but the redhead shrugged it off. Musa laughed and moved on. "The door by the stairs is an office-slash-library. Feel free to use it as you see fit or to borrow books. I don't really use it much, so if you wanna set shit up in there, that's fine. The door at the end of the hall right there is the laundry room and, uh, housekeeper comes every Tuesday and Friday."

"The housekeeper?"

"Yeah. She cleans up the -"

"I know what a housekeeper is" he cut her off. Musa looked taken aback, but what she really expected when she'd started explaining it to him like he was a child? "Is it one person? Was there a background check done on them?"

"Yes, and yes. Everyone who works for Musa and near her has gone through a thorough background check before being hi-" Saladin had almost finished his sentence when the doorbell rang. Riven dropped his bags in the room and followed the old man, Mirta and Musa back down to the main floor. Saladin checked the peephole and opened the door, letting in a tall, thin redhead.

"This is Timmy, our head of tech. He'll be installing some new security equipment." Timmy moved into the home, pulling a heavy suitcase behind him. He stopped it next to the living room door and put down the backpack and two laptop bags he was holding.

"Didn't feel like doing two trips" the redhead laughed awkwardly when he noticed the way Riven was watching him.

Saladin took his leave, offering to drop Mirta off somewhere if she'd like. Musa confirmed that she didn't need Mirta for anything so, after having exchanged numbers with Riven, the burgundy-haired girl appreciatively followed Saladin out the door. Riven and Timmy got to work, walking through the house so Riven could show Timmy what he'd like installed. Musa returned to the kitchen and turned the oven back on. She picked up her phone, rolling her eyes at the texts from their group chat.

5:35 pm

Bloom: He's HOT.

5:57 pm

Aisha: RIGHT? Did you see those ARMS?

Tecna: Girls.

Bloom: What? We're only human.

Aisha: That boy looks like he might be superhuman.

Aisha: Wonder what his abs look like.

Aisha: Oooh or his ass

Bloom: Aren't you forgetting a very important part? ;)

Bloom: *fans self*

Tecna: You have a boyfriend, Bloom. As does Musa.

Bloom: I can still look!

Bloom: Musa, honey, I suggest you do more than look.

Aisha: Yes. Fuck him.

Tecna: Again, she has a boyfriend.

Aisha: Fine. Dump Jared, then fuck him.

Tecna: That's so wrong.

Bloom: Tec's right, Aisha. She should dump Jared, fuck the bodyguard THEN TELL US ABOUT IT.

Stella: WHAT AM I MISSING? SOMEONE SEND ME A PICTURE OF HIM.

Bloom: That's what you get for going on your honeymoon when you knew a new man was coming into Musa's life.

Bloom and Aisha were convinced that Jared was right for Musa, and they made no attempt to hide it. According to Aisha, he was 'too soft' for Musa's character; she needed someone 'with edge'. Whatever that meant. Both agreed that something about him didn't strike them right, but neither could pinpoint what it was exactly. Tecna was fine with Jared and had no particular opinions about him. None that she'd made known anyways, which Musa took as meaning none since the purple-haired girl was quite forthright. Stella didn't care for Jared on a personal level, but if he made Musa happy, she was all for it.

Musa: What the fuck guys. He works for me.

Musa: Hello sexual harassment suit.

Musa: Not something I want.

Musa: Besides, I'm happy with Jared, thank you very much.

Bloom: …

Aisha: You really gonna try to tell us you don't think he's hot?

Aisha: I SAW THE WAY YOU LOOKED AT HIM WHEN HE CAME IN

Stella: How did she look at him?!

Aisha: Like this 0.0

Musa ignored the rest of the incoming messages. She'd be stuck with Riven 24/7 for the next while, thirsting over him would do her no good. And, again, she was happy with Jared even if she hadn't seen him in person in three months and wouldn't for another month.

Timmy came into the kitchen a little more than an hour later, claiming he had finished installing everything he had with him and would be back the next day to set up the rest. Musa liked Timmy. He seemed sweet, if not a tad awkward. She had spoken to him a bit while he was setting up cameras in her kitchen. He'd almost dropped the camera once or twice, but he otherwise seemed very knowledgeable about his equipment. She thought Tecna might like him, and she liked him for Tecna. He was very genuine and easy-going. She'd just have to find a way to get them to meet.

"Do I really need motion sensors on the patio? I'm on the 18th floor. No one is scaling the side of this building" Musa groaned as he showed her how to access the alarms he'd set up at her front door and patio doors, as well as the motion sensors on the patios, from her phone.

"Can never be too safe" Timmy had shrugged.

After showing Timmy what he'd wanted installed and where, Riven headed upstairs to unpack and set up the computer that connected to the cameras Timmy had installed. He was thrilled to find that he had been right about the door in his bedroom leading to a bathroom. His own bathroom – he'd not had one of those in, well, ever. He'd been raised in a dirty two-bedroom apartment with a single bathroom that he shared with his junkie mother and drunk, abusive father. After that, at 18, he'd followed his ex to New York so she could pursue her Broadway dreams – last he'd heard of her, she was a stripper at some classless joint in the Bronx after having been arrested for prostitution one too many times. They'd lived in a tiny shoe box apartment in a neighbourhood poorer than the one he'd grown up in; something that, until then, he hadn't thought possible. After their breakup, he'd moved in with the man that had become his best friend, Nabu. He loved Nabu, he did, but they'd split a one bedroom with a bathroom so small that the sink had had to be set up outside the bathroom. Understandably, Riven was ecstatic when, after having worked for Saladin for six months and lived in shitty apartments with roommates for eight years, he'd felt stable enough to move into an apartment by himself. He'd thought he'd finally have his space, but Darcy had all but moved herself in almost instantly. Even though she didn't live with him, his bathroom counter was covered in products that he wasn't sure were for her skin or hair or what. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad, he thought as he admired the nearly empty bathroom counter.

After he'd set himself up, Riven wandered into the small home gym. It contained a treadmill, an elliptical, a stationary bike, a punching bag and a weight bench. In the small closet at the back of the room, Riven found a yoga mat, resistance bands and dumbbells, among other things. All in all, not a bad home gym. He was starting to think that this may be a pretty good deal. Musa didn't seem too concerned about her potential stalker – and Riven was inclined to agree that two love letters didn't seem like anything very serious – so he might end up with a lot more free time than anticipated.

He ventured into the office next. The room was mostly empty - two plush-looking beanbag chairs, a rather empty desk and a filing cabinet – but the bookshelf was far from it. The shelves ran the length of the wall, easily 20 feet, and covered the entire 10-foot height. There was almost no space on the shelves for additions to it. Riven ran his hand along the edge, reading a title here and there. The first few titles were old, beat up books about music theory. Farther along, he found several hundred fiction books, ranging from classics like Dumas' The Count of Monte Cristo and Stoker's Dracula to random books that looked like Musa had bought them for the $2 price tag and had never touched them. About halfway along, he plucked out her copy of Battle Royale and flipped through it. A paper floated to the ground and Riven laughed when he noticed it was a hand drawn copy of the map on the book's inner front cover. He'd had to do the same the first time he'd read the book. Deciding he wanted to reread it, he made his way back to his room and tossed it onto his bed.

The next stop was the private patio. Riven slid the door open, enjoying the warm breeze of the early June air. He wasn't looking forward to the oppressive heat of July, though he supposed with air conditioning in the penthouse – include his own air conditioner in the bedroom – and access to a pool, it might not be as miserable as it usually was. He took a seat on one of the five sunbeds along the length of the patio and looked over the space. A large pool and slightly smaller hot tub took up most of it, sitting dead center. At the opposite end was a couch and two funky looking chairs covered by a large red parasol. When he stood at the edge of the balcony, he could see Central Park.

As impressed as he was with the space so far, it angered him that people lived like this. Musa's penthouse must have cost her a cool 10 million, if not more, which she'd likely paid all at once. Growing up, his parents had barely been able to afford $650 of rent a month. Course, they likely would have been able to if they hadn't spent it all on drugs and booze. Riven, at twelve, had ended up working jobs under the table while trying to finish elementary school just to stay in his bed. Musa was probably born with a silver spoon in her mouth. She'd likely never had never had to worry about where her next meal was coming from, and it only served to add to his dislike of the singer.

Before heading downstairs, he stuck his head into Musa's room, just to see what it looked like. He needed to have an idea of how far he'd have to run to her bed if she did end up getting kidnapped. A guitar laid on her bed, which, thankfully, was right by the door. Much like his own room, hers was in an L-shape with a bathroom taking up a spot that would otherwise make the room a square. Beside the door, a closet much like how own, only significantly longer, took up the entire wall. She had two windows – one by the closet, one by the bed. There was an ottoman at the foot of her bed that took up too much of the space between the bed and the wall. He would have to tell her to move it; it could impede him if the person came in through the window by the bed.

"What are you doing?" Riven turned towards the voice. Musa was standing at the top of the stairs with a confused expression watching him peer into her room.

"You're gonna need to move that thing" He replied, pointing to the ottoman.

Musa moved around the stairs to stand beside her new bodyguard. She looked in to see what he was pointing at. She didn't particularly care for the ottoman – Stella had insisted that it 'completed the room' - but it irked her that he'd been here all of an hour and a half and he was already bossing her around. "Whatever. Food's ready if you want some."

"You made me dinner?" That was unexpected. He'd assumed Musa would have someone to cook for her, and he'd definitely not thought she'd think of him. The few celebrities he'd worked for – none even close to as famous as the singer – had all been self-absorbed assholes; he'd expected she be the same. This was probably an act to win him over, he decided. Someone of her fame was probably used to playing a role to get people to like her.

"Yeah. I thought we could have dinner together. You know, get to know the person we're stuck with." Musa descended, not waiting to see if Riven would follow her. His blunt intrusion into her space had irritated her enough that she didn't really care if he starved now. She wasn't in the mood to be bossed around anymore; she'd had enough of that with her first manager and old record label. Starting in the music industry at 15 hadn't been easy, and with so little support from her father at the time, Musa had been guideless, clueless and naïve. They'd taken advantage of that, offered her a contract that had been incredibly unfair to her and forced her in the direction they wanted her to go in, regardless of what she thought or wanted. Musa had been miserable under them and that had resulted in a messy split from them just over a year ago when Musa was 22. Even free of them, she was still fighting them for the rights to her master recordings.

Musa placed the two plates she'd prepared on the small table that jutted out from underneath the island and took her seat. Riven joined her a minute later, not saying a word. He picked at the chicken on his plate, skeptical of Musa's cooking ability. It was good, though, so he happily ate the rest. He had been content to eat in silence, but Musa apparently wasn't.

"Are you from New York?"

"Nope."

"Where you from then?"

"Chicago."

"I never cared for Chicago..." Musa tried, hoping to get something out of him. She didn't have any issues with Chicago. In fact, the half dozen times she'd been, she'd not even really had the chance to see the city. It had been sleeping, soundcheck, and show; three times there'd been a radio interview or two somewhere in the day, twice a tv interview and one single time, she'd had the day free. She'd been sick that day.

"Me neither."

"Why'd you move here?"

"Life."

"Alright then..." Musa muttered, growing more and more irritated with the man. "Do you have a girlfriend? Boyfriend?"

"Girlfriend."

"Nice. How long have you two been together?"

"Two and a half years."

"How'd you meet?"

"Bar."

Musa dropped her fork onto the plate with a clang. She gripped the edge of the table and forced herself to take a deep breath. "You're not gonna attempt to make any conversation, are you?"

"Look, I took this job for the money. As far as I'm concerned, you're some overproduced princess with no real talent or personality to speak of. I can assure you that I will do my job and do it well, but I have no interest in being friends with you" He replied bluntly. He knew it was rude, but he couldn't be bothered to care. It would be easier for both of them if she knew where he stood on the relationship.

Musa's eyes widened then narrowed as she pushed back her chair and let out an irritated sigh. She picked up her plate rather roughly and dropped it into the sink, not caring that it caused an unpleasant clattering sound as the fork and knife she'd used bounced off the plate. "Saladin really took my request seriously..." she mumbled to herself before turning back to the maroon-haired man. "You're an asshole, you know that?"

"I do."

Crossed arms and glowering eyes followed by rolled eyes and an angry huff are all he got in response before Musa stormed away. He chuckled softly to himself as he heard her thunder up the stairs and shut her door. He hadn't expected her to have such a temper – attitude, sure, but not a temper. She was kind of cute when she was angry. No. No, she's not cute. She's a manufactured, stuck up, autotuned pop princess who knows nothing about the real world. Not cute.

Riven shook his head clear of the thought as he picked up his empty plate and placed it in the dishwasher, doing the same with the one Musa'd dropped in the sink. He took the fifteen minutes to wash the dishes she'd used to make supper before heading up to his room for the night. It was only fair since she had made him supper.

Musa heard him walk past her bedroom sometime around 8:30. After stomping off after dinner – not her finest moment, she admitted – she'd texted Saladin, requesting a new guard. He'd told her that he had no one else available, so she buried herself in music and stewed.

She knew she had said she wanted someone that wouldn't fawn over her, but she'd meant someone that wouldn't treat her like she walked on water and shat gold, not someone that thought she had nothing to offer the world. And, really, the gall of him! No talent or personality? He didn't even know her. Showed what kind of ass he was – maybe it was better that they keep this strictly professional. Musa usually liked to befriend her employees – Mirta for example. She loved Mirta; had even helped her win her girlfriend Lucy back after they'd had a falling out ten months ago. For Christmas last year, after they'd gotten back together, she gifted them an all-expenses-paid trip to Barbados because she could treat the people she loved now that she had money. Riven, though, well, he could be miserable and die for all she cared.