The Billionaire Next Door

Chapter 5

Tiffany closed the door on the cheerful burble of Grace's voice, leaning against it as if for support. The casserole weighed dead weight in her hands; the symbol of sudden warmth colliding with her isolation. She put it on the little kitchen table and stared out the window, her heart racing.

Dante Carter. The name sent a ringing in her head, Mrs Grace words still in her head. How brilliant he was with business and how he hated women.

“He hates women, why?”

Pushing the casserole aside, Tiffany returned to the window, peering through the curtain. Dante was still outside, directing the movers with a calm authority that left her both in awe and on edge. There was something about the way he carried himself, a confidence mixed with a hint of danger.

“Focus, Tiffany," she whispered to herself, shaking her head. She really couldn't afford the distractions, and she had a mission to fulfill, with the last thing needed being some entanglement in the life of this billionaire neighbor.

Suddenly, a slight movement caught her eye. Dante had stopped and was looking directly at her window. She felt her breath stop, and she quickly hid behind the curtain, her heart beating against her chest. Had he seen her? Was he already curious about the reclusive girl next door?

“Get a grip," she whispered, taking a step back from the window and turning to eye the casserole dish. It was probably time to go out and get back to some semblance of normalcy. After all, blending in was essential, especially with her uncle still searching for her or best stay idle in order not be caught.

She ruffled her hands on her hair and frustratedly sat on the chair.

The Next Day

The morning sun coming through Tiffany's bedroom window cast long shadows across her floor. She had hardly slept, as her mind was preoccupied with thoughts regarding the new neighbor. Definitely, having a billionaire neighbor had not been part of keeping a low profile.

She ate a few bites of the leftover casserole Grace had brought over for breakfast and then headed outside to tend her small garden. It had become her sanctuary-the one time her mind was not consumed with schemes of vengeance or visions of that terrible night.

She was on her knees pulling weeding, when the crunch of expensive Italian leather on gravel stilled her. The steps paused behind her.

"Ms. Gilbert?"

That voice. Deep commanding, with a keen edge of ice down her spine. Tiffany's hands were shaking as she stood slowly and turned around.

Their eyes met in a flash, their gazes locking in a timeless moment. Standing before her was the man from the hotel- the one who'd taken her virginity the night her family were murdered. His gray eyes flashed with a brief recognition before his face smeared into its impenetrable mask.

"Mr. Carter," she whispered; the only thing audible was her voice. Her heart sounded loudly inside her, and she felt sure he could hear it.

Dante Carter stood there in another well-tailored suit, commanding and intimidating, yet there was a difference in his eyes now - a calculated look that gave her nerves.

"What an interesting coincidence," he said in a controlled tone but with an undercurrent that spoke volumes of how utterly uncoincidental this occurrence was to him. "Finding you here."

"I didn't think you remembered me," she said, now a bit more cautiously, dusting dirt off her gardening attire. She was suddenly acutely aware of how she was looking-a far cry from the dazzling party girl he'd met that night.

A ghost of a smile played at the corners of his mouth. "I make it a point to remember significant encounters." His eyes traveled over her slowly, deliberately, and sent color burning into her cheeks. "Though I must admit, finding you in this neighborhood is unexpected."

"Life is full of surprises," she said, fighting for a steady voice. "If you will excuse me, I have work that I must do."

She began to turn away, but his next words stopped her cold.

"I know about your family, Ms. Gilbert."

Tiffany's blood ran cold. She turned back to him slowly.

"The murders were extensively covered in certain circles," he went on, his voice maddeningly calm. "Though the official investigation was surprisingly brief."

Her hands clenched into fists. "What do you want, Mr. Carter?"

He took another step closer, now close enough that she could smell the expensive cologne he was wearing. "Perhaps we should discuss this somewhere more private. My house, tonight at eight?" That was not a question.

"Well, I'm not cool with that. Of all the places you chose your house.” Tiffany said, taking one step back.

"On the contrary," Dante replied, his voice lowering down to a near whisper.

"I think you'll find what I have to say very interesting. Regarding your family's murder in particular."

Before she could say a thing more, he turned and followed the path that would take him away from her.

Leaving Tiffany standing in her garden, her mind roared with questions. How much did he know? What game was he playing? And most important of all-can he help her get justice for her family?

One thought crystallized in her mind as she watched his retreating figure - that man was going to be her salvation or her destruction. Which one he chose to be was yet to be seen.

Inside her house, Tiffany leaned against the wall, her heart still racing. She looked at the clock – ten hours until their meeting. Ten hours to decide whether to trust the man who had taken her virginity on the night her world fell apart.

She walked to her bedroom and opened her notebook titled "REVENGE," staring at the blank pages that held no leads, no clues, no hope. Until now.

Maybe fate had brought Dante Carter to her door for a reason. Or maybe this was another cruel turn her already tragic story had taken. Whichever it was, one thing was certain – at eight o'clock tonight, she would get some answers.