24 • Polite

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The house is a devastatingly breath-taking, dark design. And it's only the foyer!

It's as if I'm aimlessly wandering into the forest at night. Only, that forest is enchanted with gold accents, gold murals, gold chandeliers. Now, I see why dark interior is on the rise.

"Everything has been sorted for you." Luca shuts the door behind us. He hasn't said much to me since that day. "Don't have any guests over-"

A squeal cuts him off and pierces my eardrums. There's a flash of blonde throwing their arms around me and knocking me back.

"I can't believe you're actually here," the girl exclaims and squeezes my ribs even tighter. I pat her on the back in response.

"Maya, let her go. She's going pale," Brando scolds, appearing from the corner.

"Oh my god! I'm so sorry. Did I hurt you?" Maya instantly pulls back from me, blabbering, and I shake my head.

"I'm Maya," her smile is warm, and I return it. When I'm about to respond, she interrupts, "I already know who you are. And, can I just say, you are so much prettier in person. Those cameras do you no justice."

"Thank you." Bless her, she's so sweet.

She looks like Brando, but the only noticeable difference is their eye colour, hers are brown. Other than that, they have the same shade of dark blonde hair. Maya's is straight and long, stopping just over her chest. She doesn't look 15; in fact, if I didn't know her age, I would think she's 17.

"Points to you for knocking up the right woman," Maya looks behind me at Luca with a mischievous glint in her eyes and laughs.

He scowls at her, muttering, "I hate eccentric blonde girls.

"And I hate rude rich men," she retaliates with an adorable pout. I like her.

Luca mumbles something inaudible then directs his gaze on me. "She'll show you to your room. If you need anything just let one of us know." I nod in response, and he leaves. Brando follows behind him.

Maya gives me a quick tour of the house, which I probably won't remember. "Where's Kylie?" I ask her when we stop at my room.

"We gave her to the care home. But I found out that her mom got in contact with them so now she's living with her," Maya responds. "She was a nice little girl."

I expected the dark design but when she opens the door, I'm struck by the vibrance of it.

Everything's white.

The bed, the lamp, the rug, the vanity. Everything. Even the 70-inch TV mounted onto the wall opposite my bed. The only room in this house which is different is mine.

If the foyer design was breath-taking then my bedroom is mind-blowing.

"He designed it himself," Maya comments.

"You're lying," I utter in disbelief mesmerised by the miniature details of the room. The bed is engulfed by an adorned, white bedpost and pushed in the right corner of the room. A mirror is fixed onto a whole wall with hanging shelves where the vanity sits. There's a comfortable-looking armchair next to the balcony doors and a door leading to the bathroom.

"Come here," Maya ushers me in the hallway next to the bed. It leads into a closet that is larger than the whole room itself. "He even organised it so you had a room for everything. Shoes, formal wear, jackets." She trails off listing the things on her fingers as I stand in the middle of it.

I place a hand on my stomach and slowly leave the closet, taking a seat on the bed, trapped in a state of confusion, and being overwhelmed.

"Hey, are you okay? Shall I get you some water?" Maya frowns.

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