He was her worst nightmare in high school. Now he's the contractor renovating her house. And he has no intention of leaving.

Maeve Callaghan finally bought her dream home—a crumbling Victorian in Boston that represents everything she's fought for: independence, safety, control. The six-week renovation is supposed to be the final step. Then she opens the door and finds Nash Kellerman standing on her porch with a sledgehammer and a contract she can't break.

Nash was the boy who made her life hell for three years. He never touched her. He didn't have to. His size, his presence, his obsession were enough. Now he's six-three, two hundred and thirty pounds of muscle and tattoos, and he runs the most ruthless contracting crew in the city. He built an empire with his bare hands.

He's about to tear hers apart. Because Nash isn't here to fix Maeve's house. He's here to gut it—deliberately sabotaging the renovation to force her into his trailer, his space, his bed. Every broken pipe, every killed breaker, every delay is calculated. Every act of destruction is designed to make her need him. And every night spent thirty feet from her door is another night closer to the thing he's wanted since tenth grade.

Her. All of her. Permanently.

Maeve knows she should run. She knows the contract is a cage and the kindness is a weapon and the man replacing her cabinets is the same one who smashed them. But the body that terrified her at sixteen is the same body keeping her warm at night, and the hands that swing sledgehammers hold her like she's the only thing worth building.

He broke her house to break her walls. She'll have to decide if what he's building in their place is a home—or a prison she never wants to leave.