The Billionare Nextdoor

Trouble had already found her .

And unfortunately ...it lived next door 

Racheal woke the next morning with a headache she fully blamed on her new neighbor. Not because he did anything in particular well, he sort of did-but because her brain refused to stop replaying that conversation.

She pushed her pillow over her face and groaned.

"This is not my portion today."

But the universe clearly had plans.

By the time she stepped outside with her handbag and a leftover meat pie for breakfast, the compound was already buzzing. A delivery truck was parked by the duplex next door, the same one Adrian Cole had moved into. Boxes were being offloaded-massive ones. Furniture, equipment, even a grand piano that definitely did not match the energy of the estate.

Neighbors stood at their doorways pretending not to stare.

Racheal was not pretending. She stared openly.

"How many things does one person need?" she muttered.

One of the movers struggled past her, and she had to step aside so he wouldn't drop a chandelier the size of her entire kitchen.

A chandelier.

She clutched her bag tighter. "Okay. So he's not rich... he's unnecessarily rich."

Just then, a familiar voice came from behind her.

"Good morning, Ms. Nwosu."

Her entire body stiffened. She turned slowly.

Adrian stood a few feet away, dressed sharply in a charcoal button-down and dark trousers. No sweatpants. No relaxed expression. Just polished, intimidating calm.

How was someone allowed to look that put together before 8 a.m.?

Racheal forced a polite smile. "Morning."

His gaze flicked to the chaos around them. "Apologies for the disturbance. My staff should have finished earlier, but there were delays."

"Another apology with no actual apology," she said before she could stop herself.

His lips twitched-just slightly. "Would you prefer something more... formal?"

"No," she said quickly, mortified by her own sarcasm. "Forget I said anything."

He nodded once. "Noted."

There it was again. That word.

Dry. Sharp. Infuriating.

She exhaled slowly, determined not to let him ruin her day. "Well, I'm off to work." 

"Do you need a ride?" he asked suddenly.

Racheal almost tripped. "A ride? No! No, thank you. I'm fine."

"You seem in a hurry."

"I'm always in a hurry."

"I see."

He studied her-quietly, intensely-like he was observing a puzzle piece that didn't fit the picture.

Racheal tugged her bag higher on her shoulder. "Have a good day, Mr. Cole."

"You too."

She walked away quickly, refusing to look back.

But halfway down the street, curiosity poked at her, and she risked a glance over her shoulder.

He was still there, watching her leave.

Not in a creepy way.

Not in a romantic way.

Just... watching.

Like he was trying to understand something about her that didn't add up.

She swallowed and turned away.

At the bakery, Tola was waiting at the counter with her arms folded dramatically.

"You have exactly five seconds to spill before I combust," she said. "Start talking."

Racheal set down her bag. "Nothing happened."

"Lies." Tola leaned in. "Your 'nothing' face is the same face you had when you caught feelings for that guy in NYSC camp who didn't know your name."

Racheal glared. "Nobody is catching feelings."

"Good," Tola said, tapping the counter. "Now tell me what Mr. Fine-Face did."

Racheal sighed. "He didn't do anything. He just... exists."

Tola blinked. "Explain."

Racheal paced a little. "He stands there with that 'I'm above earthly nonsense' expression, he talks like I'm an item in his schedule, and he sent noise-canceling headphones for noise that didn't exist."

Tola grinned. "And he watches you."

Racheal froze. "What?"

"I haven't even heard the story yet, but I know men. They watch the women they notice."

Racheal felt her stomach flip-annoyingly.

"He doesn't notice me."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Are you very sure?"

"YES, TOLA!"

Her friend lifted her hands. "If you say so. But let me warn you now-men like that? The quiet, brooding, fine-till-it-hurts type? They are walking trouble."

Racheal grabbed a tray of pastries to avoid the conversation. "I don't plan to talk to him again."

"Good. Because I have a feeling he's going to complicate your life."

Racheal rolled her eyes.

"Why would he complicate anything?"

But just as the words left her mouth, her phone vibrated.

Unknown Number:

Good morning, Ms.Racheal. I believe this belongs to you.

A picture followed-her staff ID card... lying on the ground in front of his gate.

Tola snatched the phone from her hand. "Oh. My. God."

Racheal pressed her fingers into her temples.

Trouble had not only found her-

It was texting her now.

Racheal stared at the screen, her pulse picking up speed.

How did he even get her number? She didn't remember giving it out. Then again, a man who moved with bodyguards and sent apology gifts worth a small fortune probably had access to more information than the average neighbor.

"This is how Nollywood movies start," Tola whispered dramatically beside her. "Next thing, he will ask you if you're home alone."

Racheal shot her a glare and typed quickly.

Racheal:

How did you get my number?

She hit send and immediately imagined him reading it with that cold, unreadable expression of his.

Three dots appeared.

Disappeared.

Reappeared.

Then his reply came in.

A.C.:

You dropped your ID card outside the house. I used the number on the emergency contact slip at the back.

Racheal turned the ID card over in her hand.

"Oh," she whispered.

He wasn't being creepy.

Just observant. Too observant.

Tola peeked. "Hmm. So he's attentive. I like that for you."

"There is no 'for me' here," Racheal muttered.

Another message buzzed in.

A.C.:

I'm by the gate now if you want to pick it up.

Racheal felt something tug in her stomach.

Nerves?

Annoyance?

Curiosity she absolutely didn't want to have?

She wasn't sure.

"Go," Tola urged, nudging her forward. "Collect your destiny-sorry, your ID card."

"I hate you," Racheal said, slipping her phone into her pocket.

"No you don't," Tola called after her. "Text me the moment he says anything suspicious or sexy!"

Racheal didn't respond.

She needed to focus.

It was just a man holding her ID card. Nothing dramatic.

But when she stepped outside the bakery, she saw him immediately.

Adrian stood at the gate, leaned slightly against the hood of a sleek black car, ID card between his fingers. The morning sun hit his hair just right, giving him the kind of effortless glow that should be illegal before noon.

He saw her approaching and straightened.

"Ms. Nwosu," he greeted, holding out the ID.

"Thank you," she murmured, taking it.

But instead of leaving, he hesitated.

"You should be careful," he said quietly. "Someone else could have picked this up."

Racheal swallowed. "Yeah. I know. I was in a rush."

"And you often rush," he noted.

She blinked. "You've seen me twice."

"I pay attention."

The words hung in the air-simple, but heavy enough to make her heartbeat stumble.

Racheal looked away, suddenly flustered. "Well... thanks. Again."

She turned to walk back, but his voice stopped her.

"Racheal."

It was the first time he said her first name.

And the way it sounded-precise, careful, almost like he was testing how it fit on his tongue-sent an unexpected shiver through her.

She faced him slowly. "Yes?"

He slipped his hands into his pockets. "I didn't mean to offend you yesterday. Or this morning."

She blinked.

Was he... trying to be human now?

"I-it's fine," she said quietly.

A soft nod. "All right."

He stepped back, as if giving her space.

Racheal turned away and walked back toward the bakery, heart beating faster than she liked.

Just before she pushed the door open, her phone buzzed again.

She didn't need to check it to know who it was.

A.C.:

Have a good day.

She stood there for a moment, staring at the message.

Tola peeked through the bakery window, mouthing, "WHAT DID HE SAY?"

Racheal exhaled shakily.

Trouble wasn't just texting her now 

It was learning her name.