Guess who moved in next door? NYC’s top bachelor. And I’m not swooning—I’m cringing. I just made the worst mistake of my life. I kissed my horrible neighbor. Okay, maybe it was more like a tipsy slip-up. But let’s clarify one thing: he definitely did not kiss me back. And thank goodness for that, because he’s everything I despise. Grumpy. Arrogant. The neighbor from hell. But wait, it gets worse. He’s not just any neighbor—he’s a cutthroat hotel tycoon, now a major shareholder in my hotel. And guess who’s stuck working side by side? To make matters worse, he has this absurd notion he can buy me out. As if his towering 6-foot-2 frame, those piercing green eyes, and his annoyingly cute winks could sway me. Fat chance, buddy. My "No dating CEOs" policy is rock-solid. I’m immune to the best kiss I’ve ever had. I will not—I repeat, will not—succumb to his ability to render me breathless with every (dirty) word. And handing over my panties when he asks? Not happening (again). And as for falling for NYC’s wealthiest and most off-limits bachelor? Yeah, right. Like that’s ever going to... Oh, crap.