It took another hour before we had bundled up everything and left. Edward drove down an empty road. I caught a glimpse of a sign that read: Muthaiga. The sedate suburb of Muthaiga was known as the Beverly Hills of Nairobi, characterized by a mix of old colonial bungalows and lovely villas.

His home, erected proudly behind a large black gate, was flanked by rows of long, lustrous trees swaying gently in the wind. A fortress, with more security gadgets than a military compound. He punched several numbers in the intercom of the gate and the doors opened. A garden sloped steeply down towards the driveway as if it were a pedestal for the house: presenting it in all its magnificence. The house was beautifully symmetrical, two wings stretching to each side reaching out to touch the long trees on each side.

"We're here," he announced.

"Thank you. I was blind, but now I can see. What a miracle," I murmured under my breath.

Laughing, he parked his car on his front porch and turned off the engine. "Welcome to your new home."

Nerves took over me. We often threw jabs at each other, but I knew nothing about him. What did he do? Was he married? Was he in a relationship? Did he have kids? He looked old enough, around mid-thirties. But there was no ring on his finger.

The interior of the house was even more breathtaking than the outside. Everything was white, the walls, the seats, the carpet, and the curtains. The artwork on every corner of the wall added a splash of colour, breathing life into it.

"How big is your place?"

"Six bedrooms, four baths, two reception rooms, two living rooms, a study, a guest cloakroom, a laundry room and the balconies."

"What is a guest cloakroom?"

"Where the guests hang their coats when they visit."

"Oh wow! I didn't even know that was a thing."

He laughed. "Neither did I."

In the entrance hall, a family picture hung on the wall. One of him—with a look of pensive tenderness – a beautiful, brown-eyed woman with a baby on her lap. They seemed to be enjoying a picnic in the middle of a green, luscious garden. The other was of the same woman, frail-looking with dark eyes that looked out hauntingly from a beautiful face. She had on a large, diamond wedding ring on her finger. I lingered over these images, trying to understand why I felt somehow drawn to the woman.

"Is your wife okay with me staying in your home?"

Something flashed in his eyes before he looked away. "I don't have a wife."

"But the picture?" I asked pointing to the portrait.

"I had a wife before and a child. I don't have either anymore."

Saying nothing after that, he moved past me. I trudged behind him as fast as I could. He halted at the beginning of the stairs and glanced back at me with a wicked grin on his face.

"My rooms are all upstairs, I'll have to carry you up. I can already feel a protest coming my way."

"No protest coming from me." I didn't want to give him the privilege of thinking he could make me uncomfortable.

"So, you're comfortable with me carrying you up the stairs?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Because you always fight with me about everything," he said.

"And that's funny?"

"It's cute."

His gaze came up to my face and warmth shot up my neck. I was lost in the breathless paradise of his dreamy eyes. Without asking, he grabbed me into his arms in one swift moment.

"Comfortable?"

Light streaked through his short hair, catching rare glints of brown and perfected his already sculptured face. He was a beautiful man, but his damage waved itself like a red flag. He reminded me of my father. When life got hard, he told my mother and me that things would be alright. He kept us in the dark, assuming the societal role as the protector. He covered things up with the blanket of his knowledge until he couldn't, but it was too late by then.

"Are you comfortable, Maria?" Pressing his body against mine, he asked.

"Yes..." I started, letting my voice trail off in the hope of prompting him to climb the stairs as fast as he could.

He took his time.

The guest room had a woman's touch, earthy tones with a rustic finish. In the centre of the room sat a big bed with plush pillows and blankets. Edward set me down before moving to open the curtains. The floor to ceiling window opened to the balcony which offered the perfect, unobstructed view of a forest of trees.

"You like it?"

"You have a beautiful home. I'll take some time to explore if you don't mind."

"I don't. Feel free to look around. There is a swimming pool if it gets too hot, a library and a TV room downstairs if it gets too boring. If you need to work off some steam, there is a gym. I also have workers coming in and out every day if you need anything don't hesitate to ask."

"Thank you."

As the sun began piercing from the treetops, the birds began their orchestra of music. It was so peaceful out here - like another world.

"I'm going to like having you around," he said.

"Why is that?"

"Because you interest me, Maria."

"You're trouble," I no more than whispered.

"Is that good or bad?"

It would be naïve of me to think that trouble could ever be perceived as anything but destructive. I felt like an animal pacing in a cage. It was not poetic in the way that if the bars were open then I would emerge free. It was instead in the way that I would die where I stood, unable to leave. I fidgeted with my hands.

"Nervous or uncertain?"

"Tired."

"Rest." His eyes clouded with mischief. "Should I tuck you in?"

My cheeks burned in mortification. "Excuse me?"

His lips twitched as he tried to suppress a smug smile. "I'm joking."

He wasn't. His troubled gaze came back to my face, pacing from my eyes to my lips. I knew the desire in a man's eyes when I saw it. Seeing it in his eyes confused me because I didn't understand the reason for it. What I knew was that I couldn't make the same mistake I made with Ken. I got so lost in the alluring depths of his soul, that I forgot not to fall in love.