Speed.
The walls were decorated with framed photographs—Ferrari races, high-speed tracks, athletes mid-motion. Everything screamed competition and adrenaline. It was bold, masculine, and a little chaotic… yet somehow still expensive.
She had barely taken a few steps into the living room—
Bang!
A loud noise exploded through the air.
“Welcome home, future Mrs. Graves!”
A loud voice boomed through the house.
Pop! Pop!
Confetti exploded in the air.
Emma blinked, startled, and turned toward the sound.
On the staircase stood a group of people. In the center was a man in his fifties, smiling brightly, clapping his hands. Behind him, two younger men were holding party poppers, colorful confetti still falling around them.
At that exact moment, Harold rushed inside—
Pop!
Another confetti blast went off right in front of him.
He flinched hard, his entire body jolting.
“Bruno! What the hell is wrong with you?!” he shouted, horrified.
He stormed forward, snatching the poppers out of their hands and throwing them onto the ground.
The man in the middle—Bruno—just beamed, completely unfazed.
“Oh, Mr. Harold! Your mother said you were bringing your girlfriend home today. Of course we had to welcome her properly!” he said cheerfully. “This is a happy occasion! How could we not celebrate? You’ve finally broken your curse of not getting a woman—”
“Bruno, shut up!”
Harold’s face flushed a deep red, embarrassment and anger crashing over him all at once.
“Stop talking! What the hell are you saying?!” he snapped, his voice rising as he shot Bruno a glare. He looked like he might actually pass out from the humiliation.
“Don’t call her that! She’s just Emma!” he added quickly, pointing in her direction without even daring to look at her.
“She’s just… staying here for a few days. That’s it!”
His voice wavered, the panic slipping through despite his effort to sound firm.
“She’s not my girlfriend, not some ‘future Mrs. Graves’—I’m not getting married!”
He was practically rambling now, words stumbling over each other as he tried to fix the situation.
“Now stop talking and get out! Get out right now!”
In his agitation, he pushed Bruno toward the door.
Bruno stumbled back a step, stunned and confused. But one look at Harold’s mortified face was enough.
