Chapter 4. She Is the One

ROSEANNE'S POV

When I got home, it was past one, and Clara wasn't home. I stripped out of my dress and decided to freshen up and nap before going to check on Luca.

I woke up to four missed calls. Three from Clara and one from Aryan. As I got off the bed, Aryan called again, told me he would pick me up soon, requested my home address and account details, and ended the call. It seemed like he was in a hurry.

I sent them immediately. The call ended, and I got an alert after a while. I wired the payment to the hospital's account to sort the bills with a narration of my name and Luca's income, then went to pick a dress. 

Suddenly, I heard a honk outside my door, followed by a knock on my door.

"I'm coming!" I yelled, although he might not hear due to the distance. I grabbed my purse and dashed to the living room, picked up my earrings, which I dropped there earlier, and went to get the door. 

I opened the door to Aryan's towering height and straight expression, which held a hint of warmth. 

He extended his hand to me, which gave me some sparks. I placed my hand on his and followed him as he descended the stairs. The house I've lived in for a year and a half now looked different to me, as though it was my first time there. 

He opened the door as a gentleman would, and I entered, wondering how to act and to ensure I didn't blow it up because I get clumsy on occasions like this.  

"May I ask where we're going?" I asked curtly, conscious of my behaviour and tone.

"The mall. Then my house. My dad wants to see you," he replied as he entered the car and started the car. 

"Oh," I said and looked out the window. What was I expecting? A dinner date?

"By the way, you don't have to act cute around me. Be yourself." 

"After all, we'll be married pretty soon," he added with a flirtatious smirk, stressing about it, and I just smiled in response. The smirk!

"So, tell me about you, I mean an introduction," he suddenly asked, jolting me back to reality while I thought of what his house would look like.

"But it's totally fine if you don't talk. I understand," he added, and I spoke up.

"Oh, no! Not that, I'm just not sure what to tell you about myself. Why don't you ask instead?" 

"What's your name?" He chuckled.

"Roseanne Jones. Is that even a question?" I laughed and added, "Although I prefer Rosé." 

"Rosé? Isn't that a brand name for a pink wine?" 

"Bingo!" I exclaimed and adjusted my fringe.

"We're here," Aryan stopped the car, which left me disappointed because I was enjoying our conversation.

He descended first and came to open the door for me, just as he did earlier. 

He handed me a mask to avoid attention, and I understood immediately. 

"Alvarez," he said to the receptionist and handed a card to her.

"This way please," she led the way to an elevator and turned back. 

I saw a bold writing VIP on the elevator, and we entered immediately. I saw a variety of dresses and stilettos I'd never encountered in my life. Oh, to be rich was a privilege!

"Pick as much as you can," he ordered and went to sit.

I changed into each dress, and he commented on each, telling the person in the changing room to get me more decent dresses, and she nodded.

Several dresses later, I rounded up and exited the building with Aryan carrying some of the bags, offloading them in the back seat, opened the door for me, and drove to his house.

What will his house look like? All black mansion with a little bit of white? Dark patio with a field of black roses and dandelions? My imagination ran wild as I kept trying to portray what his house could look like in my head.

"You're pale. Is anything the problem?" Aryan said and switched off the air conditioner.

"It's fine, I'm fine. Thank you," I smiled and looked down at my fingers.

Would his father like me? Of course, he would. I was loveable and sweet and had no issues or bad records. He would like me, I said inwardly and sighed.

"We're almost there. Please bear a bit more," he said, and I looked up to see a large gate ahead. 

When we got closer, the gate opened automatically and closed again. 

"Welcome home," he smiled as he stopped the car.

And there it was. A white mansion with people going in and out of it. All of them moved orderly with etiquette, and for once, I thought it looked like a castle. Whoa!

"Go in first. I'll join you soon," Aryan told me, and I did.

A maid led me to a patio where a man sat. That must be his father; his body frame looked similar to Aryan.

"Mister Alvarez," I called, trying to be calm. 

"You're Aryan's fiancée, I believe?" He looked up, and my gaze met him as if trying to intimidate me. Mental games this was common among adults. I stared intently into his eyes, which looked precisely like Aryan's, and walked towards him. 

"I am. It's a pleasure to meet you, sir," I smiled, and he offered a seat to me. 

As an elder, he asked me a series of questions, and I gave reasonable answers, which impressed him.

"My pride," he said, and Aryan joined the table.

"I approve. When is your wedding? Have you selected a date? Or do you want me to?" He said, and I looked at Aryan, who reciprocated and gave an excuse.

"We should leave now," Aryan smiled and held my hand while I bid Aryan's father goodbye. 

***

ARYAN'S POV

A big wedding?! Was Father serious?

"How do you see my father?" I asked, knowing how intimidating he might be.

"He's like every elder I've seen. They try to be intimidating to know if you're up to their level mentally but then let their guards down after knowing you are," she replied when we got to the car.

"Okay. Would you like to move in with me?" I asked plainly, and her eyes widened.

Was that too straightforward?

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. You can take your time. I just wanted to keep an eye on you," I explained.

"It's fine. I will," she replied, and her phone rang.

"Hello?" 

"What?! I'll be there soon,"

"Aryan please drive me back to the hospital! There's a problem," she said, her voice becoming shaky.

"Is anything wrong?" I asked.

"I don't know either, I got a call from the hospital now," she replied, clenching her purse tightly.