THE FIXER PART ONE-CHAPTER FIFTY ONE

I waited by the door, but no one answered. I rang the doorbell again, and just as I was about to ring it once more, the door swung open. He stood there, looking sharp in a white shirt with rolled-up sleeves and deep blue trousers. I was left speechless, feeling exhausted. He looked at me and said, "I'm sorry about your boss."

"I need your help," I admitted.

He paused for a moment and then allowed me into his home.

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I settled into one of his elegant armchairs in the living room; his maid kindly offered me a drink, which I politely declined. He returned, standing at the foot of the staircase, and gazed at me with sympathy. "Come upstairs," he said, and I followed him. The house was impressively spacious. Upstairs was a whole new world, complete with another stylish living room.

"Wale, do you really live here all alone?" I asked in disbelief.

"Yes, just me and my maid," he responded as he led me into another room. It was extraordinary, a master bedroom that was truly jaw-droppi