Nikki
The moment I land in Johannesburg, my phone starts ringing off the hook, so I switch it off and chuck it in my purse. I still have no idea as to what Charles has done but I will assume that that’s the reason people keep calling me. I get off the plane and I immediately notice that there are security guards and cops everywhere. I casually and calmly walk down the staircase and get to the bottom, and armed men surround me.
“What is going on?”
A man takes off his glasses, “We have been ordered to escort you to your home, Miss Abrahams.”
“By whom?”
“Mr Forsythe,” he replies and puts his sunglasses back on.
I roll my eyes, he could have at least warned me, but it is sweet nonetheless, I didn’t peg him as an overprotective guy. I am escorted to my vehicle, and I am driven home, with a fleet of motorcycles and police cars, all the way. As soon as we arrive at my street, there are paparazzi everywhere.
“Charles, what did you do?” I whisper as I look around my street.
