A house, a garden, maybe even a dog—not that long ago this was also in the cards for me. I wanted it so badly. It’s a shame David decided, after three years into our relationship, to regularly take his intern to our bedroom. We were together for four years, in the end. I only discovered his affair by chance when a different pair of panties suddenly showed up in the laundry. David was almost relieved when I confronted him. After that, he couldn’t pack his moving boxes fast enough. The coward hadn’t even had the guts to end our relationship himself—for a whole year! The bimbo claimed she had no idea he already had a girlfriend. As if David had tastefully decorated that apartment himself… Yeah, right, bitch. Four years of my life wasted on a man. Just thinking about it makes me furious again. David was my first serious relationship. He took my virginity, for heaven’s sake, and I thought I was happy, that he loved me, and that we’d grow old together. Going from everything to nothing was a hard blow. I had hoped to do better than my parents, to one day create a warm and loving home, just like Anna is doing now. Along with my heart, David also shattered my belief that that fairy tale was meant for me. There was only one thing left to do: focus on myself and my career. Men can wait.
I shake off the unpleasant thoughts as my phone reminds me of my next appointment. We ask for the bill and promise to meet again soon. As we say goodbye, Anna asks if I’ll help them decorate the nursery. I’d be offended if she didn’t ask! Of course, I’ll take on that task! I’m genuinely honored to be asked.
* * *
I arrive at Ibrahim’s beautiful villa. The driveway is already a perfect preview for the exclusivity that defines this property. A majestic wrought-iron gate opens. Classic cobblestones, flanked by stately trees, lead me to the expansive modern facade. How many cobblestones am I driving over? Thousands, tens of thousands? I park my little Fiat under the carport for guests. There’s easily room for five more cars. I’m not usually a big fan of modern homes. I prefer a classic townhouse with molding, paneling, bookshelves, and a fireplace. This contemporary villa, however, has won me over. It’s truly a gem, and every time I visit, it looks even more beautiful. I can’t wait to show it to Bertrand. I’ve done my homework and am completely ready.
Speak of the devil—as I’m grabbing my papers from the car, another car pulls up and parks next to mine. Early, just how I like it. Bertrand has clearly been a real estate agent for a while and, by the looks of it, is doing quite well with his BMW iX. Typical, already sizing him up and forming an opinion. Nice model, though—brown leather, custom rims, fully electric, lovely. I do love a beautiful car.
I quickly wipe my clammy hands on my pants so it’s not too obvious that I’m incredibly nervous. I shouldn’t be this nervous, this house sells itself. I quickly check my blouse—no spaghetti stains, thank God.
Just as I think I’ve got myself under control, the door of the BMW opens. I can’t possibly look away as a first classic, brown leather shoe touches the ground. In my mind, I lose all sense of time, and the next few seconds go by in slow motion. Bertrand steps out of the car and clearly has all the time in the world. When he finally stands up straight, it’s clear that he’s more than a foot taller than me, and at five foot eight, I’m not exactly short. He’s standing with his back to me. My gaze instinctively travels up his broad shoulders, and I see a lightly tanned neck that contrasts with his crisp white shirt and a mane of dark, wavy hair. I was prepared for everything except this. Selling a house, I can do. Explaining technical details? No problem. But keeping my eyes off this man? That’s going to be difficult. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up halfway. I see his arm muscles move as he tucks his keychain into his pants pocket. My eyes follow his movements. He’s clearly wearing a tailored suit and a fitted designer shirt that hugs his body in all the right places. He’s in shape and takes care of himself. He casually tosses his jacket over his shoulder. Before he fully turns to face me, he bends down again toward the car to grab his phone from the holder and slip it into his pants pocket. I can’t take my eyes off his backside and nearly die from the sight. This is undoubtedly the first time a man has literally taken my breath away like this. The image is seared into my brain. I’m thinking naughty thoughts. I can’t help it—the moment our eyes meet for the first time, I momentarily forget what I’m even doing here. His dark eyes hold mine with an intensity that seems to reach straight into my soul, igniting a warmth that spreads through me. A cascade of tingles dances in my stomach, leaving me breathless and yearning for more of his unspoken connection. I didn’t know a physical presence could have such an impact on me, but this is undoubtedly the most attractive man I’ve ever seen.
Is it suddenly hot here? Should I put my blazer back? I can’t get my thoughts in order, so my mouth opens and closes, but no words come out. Nervously, I avert my gaze, tuck my hair behind my ear, and unnecessarily check my perfectly organized papers again. Act normal, Nora. Focus!
“Good afternoon, Bertrand. I’m Nora. I’m glad we could arrange this meeting on such short notice. Shall we head inside so I can show you the property?”
Well done, Nora, no big deal. Straight to the point. I forgot to shake hands. Handshakes are outdated, right? This definitely isn’t weird. I’m really not weird.
“Sure, after you,” he says calmly and composedly.
He’s clearly more at ease than I am. His voice intrigues me. It fits this man perfectly—deep, dark, a bit husky, authoritative, yet kind. Can you really deduce so much from a three-word sentence? I think so. Focus, Nora!
I take the keys from my pocket and open the front door. The entryway is more than spacious enough for the two of us. I take a few large steps to maintain some distance between us. I don’t know why, but I feel like I should keep some space between us before I launch into my presentation.
“This entryway clearly showcases the vision of the entire property. The design centers around three materials: oak, marble, and concrete. It’s a recurring theme throughout the house, but the ratio of these materials varies in each room. You can see that this is a large, modern home, but thanks to the material choices and layout, it’s still exceptionally warm and inviting.”
Now that I’m talking about the house, I’m in my element. As long as I’m not looking at my colleague, I can string together proper sentences. The nerves start to ease now that I’m in the flow. This is going well.
“In this entryway, you’ll see a white marble floor with brown and gray veins. The ceiling is exposed concrete, which you’ll find in most of the house. Beautiful custom-made oak cabinets are the focal point of this space. They’re not only visually stunning but also super practical. Coats, shoes, handbags, scarves, hats… everything can be neatly stored here. A mirror and console table in the same light oak finish complete the space.”
I open the cabinets to show the storage spaces and provide some additional information about the security system and the automatic gate. I’m glad I tested all of this on Saturday, so I can smoothly explain all the technical details. I also demonstrate the home automation system, which allows you to control the entire house remotely. The control panels are seamlessly integrated into the walls. Bertrand watches attentively. He doesn’t ask any questions but taps on the screen and nods approvingly.
One of the cabinet doors is actually a hidden passage that leads to the rest of the house. I open it and gesture politely. “Please, go ahead. The kitchen is right ahead.” I hold the door open. Bertrand steps toward the kitchen but suddenly stops in the doorway. Right next to me. We’re not quite touching. Five centimeters at most. He’s looking at the kitchen; I’m looking up at him. My body feels simultaneously on fire and covered in chills. Does he feel this too? Is he standing this close to me on purpose, or am I imagining it?
Suddenly, he looks me straight in the eyes. “Beautiful,” he says in a husky voice.
“What?” I ask, startled.
“Beautiful,” he repeats, “the kitchen, truly beautiful.”
The kitchen, of course, is beautiful indeed. I take a few steps forward until I’m standing at the counter. Talk, Nora, talk about the kitchen.
“Here, you’ll see that the materials are used in a different way. The floor is polished concrete, extremely user-friendly. The cabinets and long table are made from the same pale oak, and the countertop is the same gorgeous marble as the floor in the entryway. Black modern faucets and appliances complete the look. You truly have everything you could possibly need: dishwasher, oven, steam oven, built-in fridge, freezer, coffee machine. Do you like to cook?”
What am I even asking? I feel my cheeks instantly flush. Bertrand’s cooking skills are completely irrelevant.
“When I have the time, I like to experiment, but to be honest, I often end up ordering something. It’s the nature of the job—we’re always so busy, right?” Bertrand winks.
I blush even harder.
Chapter 2
Andreas
After a busy morning of back-to-back meetings, a shower was exactly what I needed. I’m in the walk-in closet choosing a suit and a matching shirt. I pick a white Italian shirt. While I’m buttoning it up, I relish the luxurious feel of crisp, freshly ironed cotton. I hesitate but decide against a tie, my next appointment is a personal one. If all goes well, I’ll soon be four million euros poorer but a house richer—or rather, a home. While buying a house is a natural milestone in life, it’s never been that way for me. I’ve never truly known a permanent home. It took me this long to even consider settling down. I have an apartment in the heart of Bruges, and it’s beautiful, but it was never meant to be a permanent place. It doesn’t feel like home. The thought of buying a pile of bricks for myself never appealed to me—until now.
Recently, I’ve found myself craving a place of my own, somewhere far from the bustle of work and the world. It’s probably tied to what happened over the past six months, but my story begins much earlier than that. I was twelve when our family fell apart completely. Max was ten, and Levi was nine. Life wasn’t idyllic before, but when my mother unexpectedly died in a car accident, everything crumbled. My father turned to liquid comfort, drowning his grief in alcohol. Our house became anything but a home. The household and parenting duties for Levi and Max became my responsibility, because my father couldn’t handle raising three sons. He was never satisfied, and when he’d had too much to drink, he wasn’t shy about showing his frustrations with his hands.
