Chapter 9: Mr Blind

DAMOND CHRIS

I found myself dealing with a confusing feeling of frustration, though I couldn't quite place why. Daisy hadn't done anything wrong, but her presence seemed to create a strange vibe around me.

Getting comfortable isn't something I'm great at; my friends often joke that I tend to resist that kind of thing. So, I was curious about why Daisy had decided to reach out to me like this. Just as I began to drift into those thoughts, a soft knock on the door brought me back to reality.

"Come in," I called out, trying to sound friendly and welcoming.

The door opened, and Daisy came in, her energy bright and lively. There was something about her spirit that intrigued me, but also made me a bit uneasy.

"What brings you here?" I asked, trying to match her enthusiasm with a gentle smile.

"I want to open a bank account," she said eagerly, her excitement shining through.

"May I ask what you need it for?" I asked, genuinely curious and wanting to understand her better.

"Just for everyday expenses! It seems like everyone has a bank account these days—just like you!" she replied, flashing a confident smile.

"Understood. I'll have Moore get in touch with the bank manager to help you out," I suggested, aiming to help while keeping a respectful distance.

"When are we going to do this?" Daisy asked, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.

"There's really no need for you to go anywhere. The bank manager will come to you to collect your information and get everything set up," I explained, trying to ease any worries she might have.

"Okay, thank you so much! I really appreciate your help," she said, her excitement unchanged as she got ready to leave.

"Of course, it's my pleasure," I replied, sharing a warm nod with her as she exited the room.

As she walked away, I couldn't shake off a bit of doubt that lingered in my mind, wondering if she might be after something more than just a bank account. Still, beneath that doubt, I also saw her determination and positive attitude—maybe there was a lot more to Daisy than I had first thought.

DAISY JOYCE

A wave of realization hit me—I suddenly remembered that tomorrow was the weekend, and I was going to meet Damond's parents. My stomach twisted with anxiety as I told myself, "You can do this, Daisy." But an unsettling thought lingered: what if they started asking about Damond's favorite things?

The truth was, I hardly knew anything about him, and the idea of chatting with his parents without much knowledge felt daunting. I knew I needed to talk to Damond before the visit. With renewed determination, I headed to his study, but it was empty.

Not discouraged, I tried his bedroom next. I knocked softly on the door, but there was no response. A mix of urgency and curiosity pushed me to open the door.

As I entered the dim room, I was struck by the messy sight—clothes and books were scattered everywhere. Then I heard water running from the bathroom. My heart raced; Damond was probably in the shower.

Just as I thought about leaving a note, the water stopped, and the bathroom door swung open. There he was—Damond, stepping out with droplets of water glistening on his skin, a towel wrapped low around his hips. I was completely caught off guard. Oh my God!

I gulped, my heart pounding as I took in his muscular form, water glistening from his hair to his chest. The air became charged with tension when our eyes met. "Who's there?" he asked, his deep voice sending chills through me.

Startled, I struggled to find my words, fear and confusion swirling in my mind. Before I could respond, he strode toward me with a confidence that left my heart racing. I instinctively stepped back, pressing against the cool wall behind me, feeling trapped. He was like a wall of warmth, towering over me with his arms resting against the wall, creating a barrier that felt electrifying and intense.

"I didn't mean to interrupt," I managed to say, my voice revealing my embarrassment. "Oh, so you didn't mean to peek?" he teased, a smirk on his face, disbelief lacing his words. "You seem like you're about to confess something, don't you?"

"No, I wanted to talk about something important," I insisted, trying to gather my thoughts despite the awkwardness. "Let's talk tomorrow; I really don't have time tonight," he replied, dismissing me as if I were an annoyance. He walked over to his closet and returned a moment later, now wearing snug pajamas that fit him just right, making the situation feel even more complicated.

"Are you still here?" he asked, raising an eyebrow, clearly unfazed. "I think my bodyguard can help you find your way out."

I hesitated; expressing what was weighing on my heart felt nearly impossible. "It's not that. It's about tomorrow's visit. What if your parents ask questions? They might think it's strange if I can't answer." My voice dropped, anxiety creeping in. "Honestly, I don't even know who I am or where I come from."

He waved his hand in a relaxed manner, urging me to calm down. "Leave it to me. I'll take care of everything. Now, just go for tonight." His tone was firm, leaving no room for discussion, and I was left wondering what tomorrow would hold.

"What! You think you're climbing into my bed? That's not happening. Remember who you are and what you're here for. You're just a temporary guest here for six months, so don't even think about getting close to me," he said, an unreadable look in his eyes.

 Suddenly, something changed inside me. I exclaimed, "Mr. Blind, oh, I apologize!" Mr Damond how will I even think of marrying someone as blind arrogant cold as you can't you see we are not the same you are so gullible I'm only here to do my job mad dog" I said with a mockery and angry voice and I stormed at of the room.

I stormed into my room, feeling really frustrated; he can be incredibly full of himself. The days seem to stretch on forever. Even though it's only been three days, I can't stop overthinking everything. What if he starts seeing someone else? I wouldn't know how to handle that.

"How can I make things right? Maybe I should prepare something special for him. I'm thinking about baking my favorite cookies, the ones my mom always makes for me. It could help mend things, even if it means stepping out of my comfort zone. I know I can be a bit intense at times."

I was surprised by how she expressed herself, but what frustrated me was the…"Blind"

 I was really surprised to hear her say those things. Is she trying to make fun of me? I can't believe she thinks she can get away with that. She should know that I could easily find someone else to take her place. She has some nerve! an ugly beggar let's see what you have got.