Chapter 170 039
MARCUS stepped out of his office with a tablet tucked under his arm, already mid-thought about an email he needed to respond to, when his eyes landed on the familiar figure seated in the reception.
Charles.
Leg crossed over knee, phone in hand, bouncing his foot like a man whose nerves were working overtime.
Marcus paused.
“Well, damn,” he muttered, then louder, “look what the wind dragged in.”
Charles sprang to his feet the second he heard Marcus’s voice, almost knocking over the sleek leather chair behind him.
“Hey, man!” Charles said quickly, forcing a smile. “Good morning. I have been waiting for you, weren't you informed?”
Marcus arched a brow, looking him up and down.
“At my office this early? That alone tells me trouble has arrived. No one told me anything,” he looked around.
Charles laughed nervously.
“Come on, don’t be like that.”
Marcus stepped fully into the reception, handing his tablet to his assistant with a murmured instruction before turning his full attention to Charles.
“So,” Marcus said slowly, folding his arms, “what is going on? What happened to giving me a call?”
Charles scratched the back of his neck, glancing briefly at the receptionist who was pretending very hard not to listen.
“Can we… uh… talk inside?”
Marcus smirked.
“Ah. Definitely trouble.”
He turned on his heel.
“Come.”
Inside the office, Marcus shut the door behind them and gestured to the chair opposite his desk.
“Sit,” he said. “And start talking.”
Charles sat, leaned forward immediately, elbows on his knees.
“Okay. So. Amelia is coming.”
Marcus blinked once.
“…Coming where?”
Charles winced.
“To the house.”
Silence.
Then Marcus laughed, a short, incredulous sound.
“Which house, Charles?”
Charles sighed.
“Your house of course.”
Marcus dropped into his chair.
“I knew it. I knew this day would come again.”
“Bro, please,” Charles rushed. “Just listen.”
“Okay. Go ahead.”
He sighed.
“So, I asked her for some money—”
Marcus leaned back, studying him.
“Didn’t she just give you money recently?” he interrupted.
Charles lifted both hands defensively.
“Before you start, yes. And before you judge me— man has to survive.”
Marcus shook his head, chuckling.
“You are unbelievable.”
Charles ran a hand over his face.
“She told me yesterday night. Said she is serious this time.”
“Serious how?” Marcus asked.
Charles hesitated, then exhaled.
“She said before she gives me anything again… she wants to spend a day at my place.”
Marcus’s smile slowly faded.
“…A day?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“And cook for me,” Charles continued. “Clean. Act like my wife. You know, all these domestic things.”
Marcus stared.
“Act like your wife?”
Charles nodded quickly.
“Of course. Why do you talk like this is new to you? I need this money, man, and this is the only gateway to it.”
Marcus burst out laughing, slapping his desk.
“God help you.”
“Mehn, it is not funny,” Charles groaned. “She just wants to come over again, cook, clean, eat and merry. Not the first time, come on.”
Marcus leaned forward now, eyes sharp.
“And you thought, ‘Perfect time to involve Marcus.’”
Charles spread his hands.
“As we have always done, bro.”
“You never do,” Marcus muttered.
Charles stood up again, pacing.
“I have no choice, Marcus. I have been parading your house as mine since we met. If she decides to come and I suddenly start giving excuses—”
“She will sniff it out,” Marcus finished.
“Exactly!” Charles snapped his fingers. “And you know she is sharp. Too sharp.”
Marcus watched him quietly for a moment.
“So let me get this straight. You asked her for money again.”
Charles grimaced.
“Not like that.”
Marcus raised a brow.
“Okay,” Charles admitted, “like that. But I didn’t force her. She offered… with conditions.”
“And those conditions involve my furniture,” Marcus said dryly.
Charles stopped pacing and turned to him, palms pressed together.
“Marcus. My brother. Please. I just need the keys for one day.”
Marcus sighed, rubbing his temple.
“You are playing a dangerous game.”
“I know,” Charles said softly. “But I need this. Once this business thing pays off—”
“Ah,” Marcus interrupted, “there it is. The famous ‘business thing.’”
Charles bristled.
“It’s real.”
Marcus gave him a look.
“You have said that before.”
“This one is different.”
“They are always different.”
Charles slumped back into the chair.
“Look, man. She believes in me. I can’t mess this up.”
Marcus tapped his fingers on the desk.
“And if she finds out?”
“She won’t.”
“That is not an answer.”
Charles swallowed.
“She can’t.”
Marcus leaned back again, exhaling slowly.
“You know you are asking me to lie too.”
“I’m not asking you to talk to her,” Charles said quickly. “She won’t see you.”
“Still my house.”
Charles nodded.
“I will take care of everything. Cleaning. Cooking. I will make sure nothing is out of place.”
Marcus scoffed.
“You? Cooking?”
Charles pointed at him.
“Don’t insult me.”
Marcus laughed despite himself.
“This is insane.”
“Insane times call for insane measures,” Charles said.
Marcus studied him for a long moment, searching his face.
“You really like her.”
Charles didn’t hesitate.
“I do.”
“Enough to stop asking her for money?”
Charles looked away.
“…I’m trying.”
That answer earned him another sigh.
Marcus stood abruptly.
“Stay here.”
Charles’s eyes lit up.
“So…?”
Marcus held up a finger.
“I didn’t say yes yet.”
He walked out of the office, leaving Charles alone with his thoughts.
Charles sat back, heart pounding. He bounced his knee, glanced at the door every few seconds, whispering under his breath.
“Please… please… please…”
Minutes passed.
When Marcus returned, he was holding a small set of keys.
Charles jumped up instantly.
“Ahh! You are a lifesaver!”
Marcus raised the keys slightly out of reach.
“Listen to me.”
Charles froze.
“You will treat her well,” Marcus said firmly. “No nonsense. No drama. And you will take care of my house.”
“I will,” Charles said quickly. “I swear.”
Marcus handed him the keys.
“One scratch, one broken plate—”
“I will replace everything.”
Marcus studied him once more, then nodded.
“Good.”
Charles exhaled deeply, relief flooding his face.
“Thank you, man. Honestly.”
Marcus waved him off.
“Just don’t make me regret this.”
Charles grinned, already pocketing the keys.
“Have I ever done? Come on man, why acting as though it's the first time?”
Then he paused.
“By the way… when last did you go grocery shopping?”
Marcus frowned.
“Why?”
“So I know if I need to stop by the mall,” Charles said. “She is particular about things.”
Marcus chuckled.
“My pantry is full. You are good.”
Charles’s shoulders relaxed even more.
“Perfect. Thanks again.”
They exchanged quick pleasantries, a slap on the shoulder, and Charles headed for the door, already dialing his phone.
Marcus watched him go, shaking his head.
“Crazy fool,” he muttered.
He turned back toward his office, took just a few steps—
Then stopped dead.
His eyes widened.
“Shit!” he cussed, smacking his forehead. “My girlfriend is stopping by at the house today.”
He stood there, frozen, realization sinking in.
And the weight of impending chaos followed right after.