Hey guys, so this is another new one, enjoy!


Thin Line

This story follows Mercedes, a Private Chef for celebrities, who just returned home after being gone for two years, and Sam, a freelance Journalist. The two can not stand each other but are connected by Mercedes's brother and Sam's best friend, Mitch. But when things start to shift, how will two people who spent a decade hating each other realize that there really is a thin line between love and hate.


Mercedes Jones slipped the key into the door of her brother's penthouse apartment, the smooth metal cool in her hand. Balancing her phone between her ear and shoulder, she nudged the door open, her suitcase trailing behind her. The familiar scent of sandalwood and citrus—Mitchell's signature—drifted toward her like a welcome-home hug.

"You'll have the place to yourself, at least until the weekend," Mitchell's voice came through the phone, tinged with regret. "Sam's on assignment overseas, and I'm stuck at this away game. I hate that I'm not there to welcome you back properly."

Mercedes smiled, shutting the door behind her. "It's fine, Mitch. You're doing your thing, like always. And honestly? I'm just happy to be here. I've been dreaming about this moment for weeks."

"I don't blame you," Mitchell said. "You've been living on a plane for two years. Must feel good to have solid ground under your feet again."

"It really does," she said, her voice softening. This place always felt like a sanctuary, a blend of modern luxury and understated comfort.

The open-concept living area was the heart of the home, with a seamless flow from the chef's kitchen to the spacious dining and living rooms. The kitchen was a dream—sleek, with stainless steel appliances that gleamed under recessed lighting. A massive center island with quartz countertops sat in the middle, surrounded by barstools that invited casual conversation. The double ovens, six-burner gas range, and built-in wine fridge were a testament to Mitchell's love for food and entertaining, but it was the custom pantry and oversized refrigerator that truly stole Mercedes' heart every time.

The living room, just beyond the kitchen, was equally stunning. A plush sectional in a soft gray faced a mounted flat-screen TV, flanked by minimalist shelving that held carefully curated books and decor. Floor-to-ceiling windows lined the far wall, offering an unobstructed view of the city skyline. During the day, sunlight poured in, warming the space; at night, the lights of the city created a mesmerizing backdrop.

The dining area was understated but elegant, with a long glass table and chairs upholstered in a textured fabric that added just the right amount of contrast. A modern chandelier hung above it, its soft glow lending an air of intimacy to the open space.

Mercedes loved the seamless way each space connected to the next, but it was the personal touches that made the penthouse feel like more than just a luxury apartment. The framed photographs of Mitch and Mercedes, and some of Mitch and Sam on their various adventures, the small collection of sports memorabilia in the corner, and even the stack of cookbooks on the kitchen counter—all of it made the place feel like a home.

Her room was a sanctuary within a sanctuary. While smaller than the master suite, the guest room was anything but modest. The queen-sized bed was outfitted with crisp white linens and a navy blue throw blanket that added a pop of color. A sleek wooden dresser and matching nightstands provided ample storage, and the walk-in closet was so spacious it almost made her giddy.

The en-suite bathroom featured a modern vanity, a rain shower with gleaming subway tiles, and plush towels that felt like heaven against her skin. It was perfect.

And then there was the patio. The private outdoor space was a slice of paradise just off the guest room. Mercedes often found herself out there with a glass of wine, taking in the panoramic views of the city. With its comfortable seating and small potted plants that lined the railing, the patio was one of her favorite parts of the penthouse.

As Mercedes set her bags down on the bed, she let out a long breath, her shoulders finally relaxing. The penthouse was just as she remembered—every detail a reminder of why she loved it here. It wasn't just the luxury or the incredible view. It was the sense of home it gave her, even when everything else in her life felt like it was falling apart.

"This place is still as gorgeous as ever. You know I've always loved it here."

"Of course. I made sure your room was ready—fresh sheets and clean towels. Just like you like it."

"You're the best, Mitch. Seriously."

"I know," he teased, then his tone shifted. "But you never told me why you stopped working for them. You were their personal traveling chef for two years—Santana, Brittany, and Quinn adored you. What happened? And what about that demo? You were so excited about it."

Mercedes paused, her fingers smoothing the quilt on the bed. The question hung in the air, heavy with the weight of what she wasn't ready to say.

"I'll tell you," she said finally, "just... not now, okay? You need to concentrate on the game!"

Mitchell sighed on the other end of the line. "Fine. But you know I'm here, right? Whatever it is, you don't have to deal with it alone."

"I know," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Good. One more thing—your bathroom shower isn't working right now," Mitchell said, switching gears. "You can use mine, or if you're in the mood for a soak, Sam's got that fancy bathtub in his room. He won't care he's out of the country."

Mercedes rolled her eyes, grateful for the change in subject. "Noted. Thanks for the heads-up."

"Don't mention it. I'll be back in a few days, and we'll catch up properly. Until then, take it easy, okay? You've been running on empty for too long."

Mercedes exhaled, her shoulders relaxing for the first time in what felt like forever. "Thanks, Mitch. Love you. Tell the guys I said good luck! Though you are an amazing coach, they won't need it."

"Love you too, Mece. Thank you. And welcome home."

The call ended, and Mercedes let the phone slip from her hand onto the bed. She looked around the room, taking in the familiar surroundings. It was the same space she'd retreated to whenever she needed a break from the world, and it still felt like a sanctuary.

But her brother's questions lingered in her mind. The truth was complicated—too messy to unpack right now. Two years of traveling with the Holy Trinity, as the pop trio liked to call themselves, had been a whirlwind. She'd cooked for them, toured the world, and even stepped out of her comfort zone to sing on stage with them a few times.

But the sleazy producer who couldn't take no for an answer had been the final straw. The glamour of the lifestyle had worn thin, and the bright lights no longer felt worth the compromises she'd had to make.

Mercedes sighed, stood, and pulled her toiletries from her bag. For now, she'd focus on settling back in and reclaiming her sense of normalcy. The rest could wait.

She glanced at the bathroom door, muttering to herself. "Hmmm, so the shower's broken."

Walking to her brother's room, Mercedes stood in his bathroom, hands on her hips as she inspected the luxurious rain shower. It was massive, with gleaming glass walls and an array of settings, but all she could think about was soaking in a tub.

"Figures," she muttered to herself. Mitch's place had everything, but her need for comfort was pulling her elsewhere.

Her gaze drifted down the hall toward Sam's room. She hesitated, recalling her brother's casual mention of the jetted tub in Sam's bathroom. He did say Sam was out of the country. It wouldn't hurt to indulge just this once, right?

With a deep breath, she padded down the hall and stopped in front of Sam's door. It felt strange, almost like trespassing, but the thought of sinking into that massive tub won out.

She pushed the door open and stepped inside. The bedroom was neat—surprisingly so. A king-sized bed dominated the space, and floor-to-ceiling windows let in the city lights. But it was the bathroom that stole her breath.

Mercedes flipped on the light, her eyes widening as she took it all in. The space was a dream: marble floors, a double vanity, and, in the center, the tub—a massive, jetted oasis that practically begged her to use it.

"No wonder he never stays in hotels," she murmured, stepping inside.

Even though the men had a cleaning service that came through weekly, Mercedes couldn't bring herself to use the tub without giving it a once-over. She grabbed some cleaning supplies from under the sink and got to work, scrubbing the porcelain until it gleamed.

Satisfied, she retrieved her bath bomb and set it beside the tub. As it fizzed and filled the water with swirls of lavender and gold, she turned on the jets and then connected her phone to the bathroom's Bluetooth speakers. Soft R&B began to play, wrapping the room in a calming atmosphere.

Mercedes exhaled into the water, and her body's tension slowly melted away. It had been so long since she'd felt this kind of peace. She closed her eyes, the music blending with her voice as she began singing. The melody filled the space, her voice clear and soulful.

She let herself feel for the first time in what felt like forever. The ache of the past two years—the sleazy producer, the constant travel, the loneliness—washed over her. Tears mingled with the bathwater as she poured her emotions into the song.

Forty-five minutes later, Mercedes stood and reached for her towel. She'd barely wrapped it around herself when the door opened.

A woman's voice broke the silence. "I knew I heard singing!"

Mercedes' eyes widened as she turned, locking gazes with a tall brunette who was staring at her, then at Sam, who stood just behind her.

Mercedes tightened her grip on the towel. "Unbelievable."

The woman's mouth opened and closed before she laughed nervously. "As hot as you are, Sam, I'm not ready for a threesome."

Mercedes blinked, caught between outrage and disbelief. "Excuse me?"

The woman quickly backtracked, her cheeks flushing. "Not that you aren't gorgeous, because you are. And your voice? Amazing. I just didn't know Sam had a girl who looked like you."

Mercedes opened her mouth to reply, but the woman turned to Sam with a breezy, "Anyway, I'll see myself out."

She gave them a parting wave and left, her heels clicking against the marble floor.

Sam stared after her, frozen in place, before glancing at Mercedes. His expression was a mix of shock and anger before he raced after the woman.

Mercedes narrowed her eyes after him. "You have got to be kidding me."

Grabbing her things, Mercedes made it to her room, shutting the door as she leaned against it, her heart pounding—so much for peace and quiet.


Sam leaned his head back against the seat as the plane descended into the city. He'd spent weeks traveling across Europe, bouncing from one resort to the next, capturing their luxury for travel blogs and features. It was fun in theory, but it had become exhausting in practice.

He shifted in his seat, shooting a glance at Harmony, the bubbly brunette he'd met on the flight. She'd been dropping hints since they took off, and Sam wasn't oblivious. "Maybe you'll have to show me the best parts of the city," she'd said with a playful smile.

Usually, he'd let it go. He wasn't the type to entertain strangers. But it had been two weeks, and the small-town gossip in Greece had effectively dried up his options there. Maybe Harmony would be a nice distraction from the dull ache of jet lag.

By the time they reached his building, Harmony's casual hints had turned into outright suggestions.

"Your place must be amazing," she said, following him inside.

"You'll see soon enough," Sam replied, smirking.

As they stepped into the penthouse, Sam tossed his bag aside and gestured toward the hall. "My room's at the end. Make yourself comfortable. I'll grab us some water."

Harmony gave him a flirty smile and disappeared down the hallway. Sam headed to the kitchen, rolling his shoulders to work out the tension from the flight. He was halfway back to his room when Harmony's voice rang out.

"Sam?"

He froze. "Yeah?"

"I think I heard something."

Sam frowned, heading toward her voice. "It's probably just the cleaner. She usually comes around this time."

As he turned the corner, he stepped into the open doorway of his bathroom—and froze.

Mercedes.

The one woman who could irritate him on sight was standing there in a towel, staring back at him like he was the intruder in his own home.

Harmony, wide-eyed, looked between the two of them. "I knew I heard singing!"

Sam's brain short-circuited as Harmony's words kept coming, culminating in something about not being ready for a threesome. Mercedes didn't even flinch; she just rolled her eyes and muttered, "Unbelievable."

When Harmony finally left—flustered but still smiling—Sam ran after her, trying to salvage the situation. By the time he reached the elevator, she was gone.

Groaning, he slammed the front door behind him and stalked toward Mercedes' room. He didn't bother knocking.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" he demanded, stepping inside.

Mercedes looked up, wrapped in a towel and clearly unimpressed. "Do you mind?"

"Actually, I do," Sam snapped. "What the hell are you doing in my bathroom?"

Mercedes raised an eyebrow. "Taking a bath. Mitch said you were out of the country. I wouldn't have bothered if I'd known you were here."

"You're unbelievable," he said, raking a hand through his hair. "You know that, right? You're the devil, sent to ruin my life."

"And you're an STD-infested troll," Mercedes shot back, folding her arms. "Now, get the hell out of my room."

Sam glared at her for a moment before turning on his heel and storming out, slamming the door behind him.

Grabbing his phone, he dialed Mitch.

"Hey," Mitch answered. "What's up?"

"Thanks for the heads-up, man," Sam said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"What are you talking about?"

"Your sister," Sam snapped. "She's here. In the apartment. She was in my bathroom."

There was a beat of silence before Mitch replied, "Wait—you're at the apartment?"

"Yes, I'm at the apartment. And I walked in on your sister taking a bath in my tub."

Mitch groaned. "Sam, come on. Just be nice to her, okay? Something happened, and she won't tell me what. I told her she could stay there to get a break."

Sam snorted. "Nice? She's not my sister, and I'd prefer to stay far, far away from her."

"Well, you're stuck with her for now," Mitch said. "Just…try not to kill each other, okay?"

Sam hung up, tossing his phone onto the counter. His night was officially ruined, thanks to Mercedes.

He leaned against the wall, muttering to himself. "She's going to be the death of me."