THIRTY FOUR

Fabian did not have many rooms in his residence, and for that, Amber was extremely grateful. His house, though spacious held only three main rooms. The first being the master bedroom; the place was at least four to five times bigger than her apartment. It had a massive all-black walk-in wardrobe that housed an array of luxury watches in one of his display drawers, rows upon rows of colour-coded suits and pants in shades of black, grey and brown, another two drawers just for his ties and cuff links and so much more. Amber had just about dug into every nook and cranny of the wardrobe the day before but had found nothing. The bedroom also had an attached bathroom that put even the Four Seasons Hotel’s luxurious one to shame and a little lounging area next to an enormous window that opened up to a magnificent view of Silicon Valley. She had turned the room upside down and inside out to no avail and regretted having spent so much time there.

The second room was the guest room where