HENRY THORN

I went into the kitchen first to get coffee to clear my head of sleep. The day had been exhausting that the exact thing I should be doing now was sleep not waiting around for Will.

But I had not been sleeping properly not since I had checked the financial records with the company accountant at the beginning of the week and confirmed for real that there was an inconsistent flow of income in the company.

It was Will that had first discovered it. He had by accident noticed from a contract on the accountant desk that certain money was leaving the company account with my signature. Since he was my personal assistant and I usually told him whenever I was to officially withdraw money, he had called my observation to the strange happening. Shocked because I had not done any financial transaction the contract claimed I did, I called all the accountants quickly to my office and together began to trace over the transactions and contracts of the last six months. It was quite laborious and took us two full days but at the end of it, we realized there was a smart thief in the company who had pilfered over five hundred thousand company funds.

Luckily, the second owner of the company, Mr Michael, was on a work trip and I intended to catch the thief before he came back so I would not only give him a report on what happened but also the culprit.

Thinking about all this, I went back to the sitting room, I realized everywhere was eerily quiet.

I wondered where the house staff were. I was supposed to have seen some of them in the kitchen but I hadn't.

Besides the gatekeeper who had opened the gate for me, I had not seen any other person in my house.

That was the main reason I was yet to eat dinner; there had been nobody to come tell me my dinner was ready. Already feeling alarmed, I was about to go into the balcony and call out the name of my chief housekeeper when I remembered I had given them two days off as a bonus since I had not given any of them leave since the beginning of the year. They had left the house this morning and were expected to come back on Sunday morning.

Damn. So it was my staff that was keeping my house lively.

Not even a girlfriend? Or kids?

I didn't care about it anyway. From as long as I could remember, I have never given a damn about girls and their troubles.

In high school, I was the one always consoling those whose hearts had been broken by their girlfriends. But I never knew what it felt to give one's heart to a girl. The thrill was excluded from me. So how would they break a heart I had never given out?

The pain had also been excluded from me as well.

It was a cause of worry among my male friends especially when I got to the university. I was gorgeous, with my caramel toned skin and striking eyes and had the eyes of many ladies following me. To my friends, it was a crime to not follow the ladies back. They wondered how the hell would a red blooded man not seek the warmth of a female. They thought it strange. As my father had before he died.

I remember a particular memory of when I was in my sophomore year in university. Cherrie, the blond stunner who had won the beauty pageant prize for that year walked to me in a party and in front of others kissed me fully on the lips and then whispered with a sensual smile on her lips "I have been dying to be your girlfriend."

As the guests in the party rowled with excitement and began shouting "Yes. Yes. Yes " with their hands raised up, I smiled at her, toyed with a blond lock of her hair with one finger then said with the same low volume she had used for me. "Then live."

At first, she had been confused as to what I was meaning with those two words but as she saw the way my eyes were cold as I looked at her, she got it. Her blue eyes had filled with rage because I had done the unimaginable— I had told the girl no boy would say nothing but yes to the very thing strange in her world— no.

The boys had been confused when Cherrie shouted "You bastard! You don't know what you are missing! Are you sure you are not gay?" Instead of the kiss and smooching they had expected to witness.

Back at the private apartment I was staying on campus, two of my friends who had followed me home questioned with vigour how on earth I was able to decline what gives most boys wet dream.

"I am not most boys, I guess" I said with the attitude of 'I don't give a damn."

The words and attitude was something that was very confusing to the boys. It was as if I was a math equation to them. They could not understand my way of life at all.

Few days later, I began to notice how boys began to act weird around me: some of them would noticeably refuse to sit near me in class or any other public place while others would lick their lips at me if they thought I was not watching.

Those who avoided me were the one known to be overly religious in the college while the absurdly flirtatious ones were the gay guys in college.

It was crazy because it was later I had traced the recent modification of boys' behaviour around me to the statement Cherrie had angrily said in that party.

Now, as I mulled over that memory from my school days, my phone rang. I pulled my phone out of my jean back pocket. I checked my Caller ID.

It was Will. Finally.

I picked the call. "What took you so damn long?"

He didn't answer.

I instinctively knew something was very wrong. And I became very worried. That made my headache intensify to a point that I had to walk to the freezer in the dining room to take some ice and put on my head.

"What is wrong, Will? Talk to me."

His voice was pensive as he answered, "You might want to sit down as you hear this."