The Wrong Number

After our mind-blowing kiss, we arrived at the airport, where a sleek Lamborghini was already waiting for us. Now, we are driving to his residence in his fancy car.

"Am I going too fast?" he asked, stepping on the gas.

"Yes, you are," I replied, though strangely, I wasn't even a little bit scared. Maybe it was the way he handled the steering or just the confidence that oozed from him. Standing beside him felt like standing next to an army of thousands.

He gave me a side glance and smiled. If he knew how sexy he looked when he did that, he should charge a thousand bucks per smile—I would gladly pay.

"Just up ahead is my residence."

Calabar was beautiful, calm, and cool. I wouldn't mind spending my days here. When his residence came into view, I gasped. It was a marvel of mankind. The big gate opened, revealing a simple yet breathtaking home. Unlike Henry's extravagant mansion, this house had a big lawn with flowers adding to its charm. The white-painted exterior made it look like something straight out of a foreign magazine. Simple but unique.

He drove into the parking lot, where even more luxury cars were stationed.

"Is this your permanent residence?" I asked as he opened the door for me.

"Yes. Though I'm hardly around, this is my parents' house. After I became an adult and left Henry's house, I started living here."

"Wow. I don't know how many more surprises I can take in a single night," I admitted, and he smiled.

"Come on." He led me toward the entrance, where a well-dressed man stood waiting.

"Welcome, sir," the man greeted him.

"How have you been?" Alfa asked.

"Fine, sir."

"Good evening, sir," I greeted, noticing he was old enough to be my father.

"Good evening," he responded politely.

"This is my guest. You can retire for the night," Alfa instructed, and the man gave a nod before leaving.

"You're bossy, you know that?" I teased.

He simply shrugged. Well, who in his shoes wouldn't be bossy? I still loved him like that.

"Come on, let's go inside," he said, leading me in. Surprisingly, there were no maids or servants in sight.

"No servants?" I asked while standing at the doorstep.

"Nope. They come around noon to tidy up the house, mostly when I'm not around. I don't like having people who aren't family around me all the time," he explained before leading me inside.

I forgot what I was about to say the moment I saw the interior of his house. It was like heaven on earth. One surprise after another.

"You truly are rich," I muttered, making him chuckle.

"Make yourself at home. Let me fix something up," he said before leaving. I simply nodded and began wandering around. Normally, I wouldn't move from where he left me, but I wanted to see everything in this house.

I walked down a hallway lined with pictures. Instantly, I knew they were from his childhood—memories of him and his parents. A portrait of his father and mother caught my eye. His father was tall, just like him, but he had his mother's eyes. There were countless photos of him with his father, and I giggled when I saw one of him crying as a toddler.

"Your cuteness runs deep," I murmured, moving along until I came across an art portrait of him with both parents. It was strange because he looked about ten years old in the picture, but his mother had died at childbirth. I'd have to ask about that later.