Everything is going just fine until my apartment burns down. I’m playing the part of a normal college student under my fake identity, keeping a low profile, and then boom, suddenly I’m homeless. When my classmate offers a roof over my head, it’s hard to say no. Even if he is a billionaire heir, and his older brother is the nation’s most eligible bachelor. They’re the opposite of low profile, and everything I should be staying far away from. As long as I don’t get too close, their townhome is a safe place to stay. Especially when I’m starting to suspect that my apartment burning down was no accident. My past might be catching up with me, which means I’ve got to stay in the shadows. But the pull to one of my new roommates is getting harder to deny, and I’m starting to wonder, is living in hiding really living at all?

Is it worth staying safe if it means sacrificing a chance at love?

After all, safety may just be an illusion.