13. impatient visitor

~Catalina~

Graham’s hands were in his pockets, and his gaze was roaming over my old apartment building.

Then he saw me.

His attention immediately zeroed in on me, and he smiled.

It was so sweet, so warm, that it left me dumbfounded.

I glanced nervously at my apartment. How did he find out where I lived, and how did he get here so fast?

“Good evening to you,” he greeted, his voice low and his eyes piercing.

We stared at each other for a moment before he asked, “Invite me up.”

“Wh-what are you doing here, and how do you know my house?” I asked instead, finally finding my voice.

“You wanted to talk. I came to talk.” He replied.

“I only sent you a hi, Graham.”

He shrugged. “I was in the neighborhood. So, I decided to check on you.”

“This neighborhood?” I asked doubtfully.

“Yes.”

“That’s very unlikely.”

He smiled. “Are you going to invite me up or not?”

I sighed. “It’s…a bit messy in there and-.”

“Catalina,” he called, and I rolled my eyes at him. “I want to see your messy place. Invite me up,” he persisted.

“Damn, you’re relentless,” I told him.

The corners of his lips curved upward. “You have no idea.”

“Okay, fine. But first, tell me how you know where I live.”

His small smile grew slightly wider. “I asked you to marry me, Catalina. Do you think I wouldn't look up my future wife at least?”

I squinted at him suspiciously. “The way you say that makes it sound like you hired a private detective to spy on me.”

“I didn’t have to hire a detective. I keep one on retainer.”

“Riiight. In case you suddenly feel the need to know everything about a random one-night stand.”

“There is nothing random about you, Catalina. And you're not a one-night stand. Invite me up.”

“Fine.”

I pushed the apartment door open, and he followed.

As we ascended the second-floor stairs, he sniffed and made a face.

“Smells weird here.”

I shrug. “Someone on the second floor makes lots of locust beans.”

We kept climbing the stairs, with him studying the stained floors each step of the way.

“This place is really old.” He muttered. “Why are you living here?”

“The house is affordable, and the landlord is kind. Also, I like my neighbors.” I gave him a tight smile as I led him down the hall to my door and stopped.

He stood there towering above me. “Come on, invite me into your house, Catalina.”

My stomach lurched with nerves.

“Go home. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“Not a fat chance.”

F*ck!

I slowly unlocked my door and let him in.

Once we were inside, I watched him prowl around the space like a caged lion, sniffing things out.

I looked at everything through his eyes and wished we could go back outside.

“Where’s the rest of your apartment?” He asked me, taking in my not-so-big living room more carefully and looking honestly confused.

“Haha, very funny,” I replied.

I’m not exactly from a poor home.

My parents are somewhere in the middle class. But they were obsessed with wealth, and I was supposed to be the key to actualizing their obsession.

If I had married Garrie Massot, their dreams would have come through.

That was the reason they didn’t want me married to Jeffery, whose career was just starting back then.

And up till now, Jeffery’s income and overall wealth can’t be compared to what Garrie Massot would have given my parents.

It would have been a sort of generational colossal wealth. A level Jeffery was yet to attain.

Graham’s gaze lingered on my portable TV console, the couch, and my center table while I took a seat, my eyes lowered.

“Okay, you’ve seen my place. Time to go.”

He gave me a look like I grew another head.

Then he began to unbutton his jacket and slid it off his shoulders while holding my gaze.

my pulse fluttered and my stomach clenched.

Beneath his jacket, he was wearing a white shirt tailored so perfectly that the outline of his abs were almost visible.

He draped the jacket over the back of a chair, then unbuttoned his cuffs and slowly rolled them up his forearms, one after the other, all the while holding my gaze.

My mouth turned dry, and the hole between my legs dampened.

I tried very hard to look casual and disinterested, but all I could hear was my uterus screaming "OH MY GOD" at the top of its lungs.

He smirked, then took a seat and rested his forearms on his knees.

“Let’s talk,” he said and waited.

he watched me with apt focus for a moment and when I didn't say a word, he asked out of the blues, “How are you?”

That single question completely melted my heart.

“I know I’m pushing you hard about this…but-”

“I’m fine.” I cut him off. “I’m very okay.”

“Oh, okay,” he replied. “I was meaning to tell you something. It’s about the proposal. I now have the twenty million held in an escrow account. So, once we sign the marriage license, it will be placed in an irrevocable trust in your name.”

I swallowed and coughed politely behind my hand. “Do you read minds?”

“Was that why you texted?”

“Not just that. I have questions.”

“Ask me.”

“For starters, are you violent?"

His voice dropped an octave. "Violence is part of human nature."

I scoffed. "Try again. Your answer does not in any way tell me if you hit women or not."

"Of course not. I'm not a woman-beater. If I were, every news channel would have carried it by now."

His answer sounded quite honest. He didn't blink, flinch, or make any strange twitch that I could pounce on.

He simply looked like a man telling the truth.

But I couldn't shake off the feeling that he was just telling me what I needed to hear.

I noticed that he was staring. So, I quickly cleared my throat.

“I-I also wanted to ask...What about sex?”

I spotted how fast his pupils dilated. Then, his tone turned husky. “What about it?”

“I’m wondering…Is it expected?”

He studied me for a long moment, his eyes fierce. Then he murmured, “The contract will have no mention of sex.”

“This contract, have you by chance drafted it already?”

“Yes.”

Not surprised.

“So, about the sex, are you saying we won’t have sex?” I asked him.

“I’m saying it won’t be in the contract,” he replied.

“Yeah, I heard that part, but what does that mean?”

“Do you want to have sex with me, Catalina?”