Page 7 of My Billionaire Neighbor's Secret

We were admittedly tipsy, shrieking and splashing in and around the pool.

So what did I expect? In just a few minutes, the doorbell was ringing.

I didn’t even think anything of it initially. I put on a white robe over my red bikini and opened the front door with my hair still dripping wet. I had a big smile on my face. But the moment I saw him, my world seemed to crumble and reality suddenly struck.

His moist, light pink lips were set in a grim line and he had a serious disapproving look on his handsome face. However, behind his glasses, his eyes seemed to register shock. It was probably because I had opened the door in my swimsuit and was half-naked in front of him.

I wrapped the robe around my body, covering it entirely and frowning at him.

“Let me guess,” I said without inhibitions. The alcohol was certainly working its wonders. “You’re going to complain about the noise because you’re a lonely introvert who hates parties and wants to keep to yourself all day long, every single day.”

His face initially filled with obvious surprise at my appearance, changed into an expression of irritation and disdain. “Yeah, that’s me. So can you please tone it down if you don’t want me calling the cops again?”

Someone whistled behind his back, seemingly making a catcall. That was when I noticed three burly men grinning and observing us from the road. They were just leaning on a green pickup truck, looking like big, frightening thugs.

“So you called on them instead of the police?” I blurted out with disbelief.

He turned around for a while but did not say anything else. Turning back to me, he just said, “Cut out the shrieking and partying. You’re not teenagers anymore.” With a scoff, he walked back to his house.

I wanted to yell at him, but the presence of the thugs silenced me. I watched in bewilderment and a little bit of terror as the thugs followed him inside his house.

Joining my friends again, I was now feeling vigilant and sober. I was about to launch into a full-blown account of my encounter with the neighbor when a ping on my cellphone made me stop.

Checking it first, my mouth dropped open when I read the message I received. It was from my ex-boyfriend Drake, telling me that he had just gotten on a plane to Las Vegas.

What the fuck!

Chapter 4

CARTER

Inmyneighborhood,nobodyknew who I really was. I liked it that way. I enjoyed the privacy and the anonymity and didn’t care much about gossiping neighbors. Let them wonder all they want about me.

In my hotels and casinos, the guests had no idea too about my identity. I looked like one of them. I certainly didn’t want any extra attention, so I always dressed casually, and the employees knew it. When I passed by, they would nod but not say anything so that it would be discreet. I prefer that they focus on their jobs than get interrupted by my presence.

As soon as I entered Prime Luxent Hotel, I saw the guards and receptionists exchange surprised looks. Yes, it was an unplanned visit. They all straightened up and nodded their acknowledgement. I gave them a nod back, which meant that they ought to get back to their work at once.

I was never accompanied by bodyguards or assistants unless I specifically request for them. It would catch attention, so I usually went without them.

Sitting cross-legged in the lobby, I opened a book I had brought with me and pretended to read and relax. The truth was that I was simply observing.

Many employees would hardly notice me when I did this, so if they were not aware of my presence, they would just go about their business as usual. It was more authentic. I could really take note of how daily operations were done and who deserved recognition and salary raises.

A small commotion made me lower my book and stare. A middle-aged woman was dragging a six-year-old kid toward the exit. The little girl looked so fearful but seemed to be holding back her tears. Meanwhile, the woman looked very angry and disappointed and was even pinching the girl.

“Shut up,” I heard her hissing, making people nearby turn and give her disapproving looks. “You don’t deserve it. You’re ugly!”

I felt a cold wave pass through me, bringing back painful memories of the past. I had the urge to grab the child and protect her from the woman, probably her mother.

Thankfully, the mother didn’t do anything else. They left the hotel in a rush. But I just didn’t want to think of what would happen if they were already in the privacy of their own home.

The incident reminded me of my childhood and the agonizing treatment I was given by the two foster parents who had adopted me.

I remembered how happy I had been that fateful day to have been selected by the couple that came to the orphanage. I was eight years old and had grown up in the institution under the care of strangers who eventually became my family. But I knew from the very beginning that each child there had to move on to a real home at one point or another.

I thought I’d finally be able to experience having a real family. But I was so wrong. The next few years after that became the darkest chapters of my life.

I brushed the thought away and stood up to go to the hotel's central kitchen. I directed all my energy toward the inspection, examining every nook and cranny and talking to the various staff and officers in charge. Afterwards, I headed to the rooms and function halls. I went to the housekeeping facilities and other areas.

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