Chapter 4: The Taxi Ride

The morning sun had barely begun to spill across the bedroom floor when I opened my eyes. I checked the digital clock on my bedside table: 6:00 AM.

My pulse fluttered with a sudden, anxious excitement, but I forced myself to stay still, pulling the blankets back up to my chin. If I got up too early, my parents would know something was up; they would see right through my excitement about going over to Brother Alex’s house. So I forced myself to lie there in the quiet room, staring at the ceiling and waiting, watching the gray light slowly turn into a brighter Saturday morning.

By half-past eight, I couldn’t wait another second.

I slipped out of bed, grabbed my towel, and hurried to the shower. The hot water woke my skin up, washing away the restless heat of the night before. Back in my bedroom, I stood in front of my wardrobe with a deliberate, calculated look in my eyes.

I bypassed my usual modest church dresses entirely. Instead, I pulled on a pair of tight, short bum shorts and a snug crop top, leaving my bra behind in the drawer so my hardened nipples pressed visibly against the soft fabric. But I wasn’t walking out of the house looking like that. Over the top, I slipped on a loose, long, button-down overall gown that hung modestly to my knees, completely concealing what lay underneath and transforming me back into the picture of a respectable church girl.

I caught my reflection in the mirror, flashing a sharp, wicked smirk. *Bad girl, Pat,* I whispered to myself, grabbing a bottle of body spray.

Sensing an opportunity, I crept quietly out of my room and slipped down the hallway into my parents’ bedroom. My mother had a collection of expensive French perfumes bought straight from Paris stored neatly on the dresser. I quickly lifted a bottle of designer spray, misting a rich, intoxicating cloud over my neck and wrists before hurrying back to my room before anyone could catch me.

I kept my face clean, no heavy makeup, just a swipe of clear lip gloss to make my lips shine. Gathering my thick hair, I twisted it up into a sleek, high ponytail that made my jawline look sharp and striking.

When I walked down to the kitchen, my mother was already there, wiping down the counter. She turned around with a warm smile, handing me a sturdy plastic basket packed with laundry detergent, disinfectant, bleach, and cleaning rags.

“Make sure you do a thorough job, and don’t stay too long, you hear me?” my mother instructed, handing me some transport money. “Come straight back home when you’re done.”

“Yes, Mum,” I replied, my voice sweet and obedient.

Outside the gate, I hailed a passing taxi, sliding into the backseat and handing the driver the address Alex had texted me the night before: Unit 4B, Green Gate Estate, off Idi-Ishin.

As the car rumbled down the paved streets, the city blurred past my window in a rush of morning traffic and street vendors. I sat rigidly in the backseat, my fingers tightening around the handle of the plastic cleaning basket until my knuckles turned white. Every bump in the road made my chest tighten, and a sudden wave of panic rolled through my stomach.

What if I was making a massive mistake? What if I tried to touch Alex and he rejected her—rejected *me*—or worse, shouted at me? What if he got angry and picked up the phone to call my deacon father?

For a terrifying second, my hand drifted toward the door handle, whispering to myself that I should just tell the driver to turn around, go back home, and pretend nothing ever happened.

*No,* I thought, locking my jaw and forcing my breathing to steady. *Alex isn’t untouchable. He’s just a man.*

I knew how I looked. Even though I was only eighteen, my body had matured early and rapidly, with full breasts, rounded hips, and a height that made people mistake me for twenty-two. I knew the kind of effect I had on men, and I had seen the way Alex’s eyes had occasionally lingered on me before he quickly looked away to hide behind his holy title.

The taxi slowed down to a smooth halt inside the quiet, upscale gates of Green Gate Estate, stopping right in front of the sleek block of apartments.

I paid the driver, took one last deep, stabilizing breath, and stepped out into the morning air. The estate was peaceful, almost eerily quiet, save for the rustle of trees overhead. My heart hammered wildly against my ribs like a trapped bird as I walked up the flight of stairs, the heavy plastic basket swinging lightly in my hand while the secret layers hidden beneath my modest gown felt heavier with every single step.

I reached the wooden door of Unit 4B and knocked twice.

The lock clicked almost immediately, and the door swung open.

I froze.

Standing right in front of me wasn’t the polished church worker who always wore stiffly buttoned-down long sleeves and heavy suits. Alex stood there in a casual blue T-shirt that hugged his broad chest, paired with loose shorts that sat comfortably just above his knees. A faint, clean scent of masculine soap washed over me.

Our eyes locked instantly.

Alex blinked, clearly caught off guard as his gaze swept over me. But before I could lose my nerve, a warm, welcoming smile broke across his face.

“Sister Pat,” Alex said, stepping back to clear the doorway, his voice smooth and rich. “Please, come inside. I was so surprised when your dad called yesterday to say you were coming. To be honest… I was so happy.”

I stepped inside, taking a quick, sweeping gaze around the living room. It was a cozy, self-contained apartment, a spacious room with an adjoining kitchen and a clean bathroom tucked neatly inside. For a bachelor who constantly complained about having no free time, the place was surprisingly tidy.

Alex closed the door behind us, the heavy click of the deadbolt sliding home sounding entirely too loud in the quiet room.

He turned around, his smile fading into something much darker and more intense as he looked down at me, leaning his back against the closed door to block my only exit. "You really shouldn't have texted me that you knew the side door lock was broken, Pat," he whispered, his voice dropping an octave. "Especially since I never told you which apartment was mine."