Sold To Lord Of SEX Chapter 35
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Unlike in Lagos, I quickly realized we were no longer in Nigeria. Everywhere I looked, I saw only white faces, and the surroundings were too picturesque and well-manicured to be anywhere in Nigeria.
The men surrounded us, their eyes fixed on Kingston, and I sensed a mix of curiosity and respect in their demeanor. “Welcome, sir,” one of them said, extending a hand to Kingston. “We’ve been expecting you.”
Kingston nodded at the man, then proceeded towards the car, holding my hand. I was surprised to see the men clustering around him, as if protecting him from something.
“Welcome, Miss,” one of them said, opening the car door for us. They surrounded us, their eyes scanning the surroundings, their movements swift and precise.
It was as if they were shielding us from an unseen threat, their vigilance palpable.
I felt a shiver run down my spine as I realized the extent of Kingston's security detail. Who was this man, and what kind of danger did he face that warranted such protection?
We settled into the car and sped off, surrounded by a convoy of vehicles.
As we drove into the city, I couldn’t help but admire the beautiful surroundings.
The scenery was stunning, with lush greenery and elegant architecture.
Suddenly, the car turned off the main road, and the entire convoy followed suit, swiftly turning into a picturesque street.
My eyes widened as I saw a bold inscription on a massive billboard at the entrance: “WELCOME TO THE REALM OF KINGS.” The words seemed to shimmer in the light, exuding an air of luxury and grandeur.
I felt a thrill of excitement and curiosity, wondering what lay ahead in this enchanting place.
The drivers pulled up to the first entrance, which was heavily guarded by armed men.
The car came to a stop, and the driver rolled down the window. As soon as the guards spotted Kingston in the car, they snapped to attention.
“Welcome, Master Kingston,” one of them said with great respect. “Master Kingston has returned,” he announced into his radio, “alert the rest of the security team and leave the gate open.” The guards immediately sprang into action, ushering us through the entrance with a nod.
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We drove for another twenty minutes, passing through three more gates, each one more impressive than the last.
Finally, the car came to a stop in front of a magnificent duplex that seemed to be made of gold.
The sprawling complex was a marvel of architecture, with towering columns and sweeping arches that seemed to stretch up to the sky.
The massive ocean-blue swimming pool at its center glimmered in the sunlight, surrounded by breathtaking lily and rose gardens that filled the air with their sweet fragrance.
An impressive elephant sculpture stood guard at the entrance, its intricate details and craftsmanship a testament to the wealth and opulence of this place.
As Kingston led me inside, I couldn’t help but gawk at the sheer scale and luxury of our surroundings.
The garage was filled with a staggering number of cars – I lost count after twenty! – and the interior of the duplex was just as impressive, with marble floors, crystal chandeliers, and walls adorned with priceless works of art.
I felt like I had entered a different world, one of unimaginable wealth and privilege. Kingston held my hand, guiding me through the labyrinthine halls and rooms, each one more breathtaking than the last.
We finally arrived at the stunning living room, which was truly out of this world.
The space was elegant and sophisticated, with designer furniture and artwork that exuded luxury and refinement.
As we entered, we were greeted by a man in his mid-fifties and a woman who appeared to be in her late forties.
Despite her advanced age, the woman was still breathtakingly beautiful, with a radiant glow that belied her years.
Her long, curly blonde hair cascaded down her back like a golden waterfall, and her bright blue eyes sparkled with warmth and intelligence.
She was an American woman, and her beauty was truly timeless.
The man, on the other hand, was imposing and commanding, with a strong presence that was reminiscent of Kingston’s.
He was larger and older than Kingston, with a rugged, weathered face and a distinctive jawline that spoke of strength and character.
His piercing brown eyes seemed to bore into me as he gazed at me, and I felt a shiver run down my spine as he nodded in greeting.
Despite their impressive appearance, however, it was clear that they were kind and welcoming, and I felt a sense of warmth and comfort in their presence.
The woman was a white lady, while the man was an energetic African man.
“You finally came back home, my son,” the elderly man said to Kingston, his face beaming with joy. “And with a son, no less,” the woman added, her eyes shining with warmth as she approached me to take Uriah from my arms.
But the elderly man's expression quickly turned sour, his eyes narrowing in disapproval.
“I can’t believe you’d bring home a…a gold digger from Africa and expect us to accept her and this…this illegitimate child,” he spat, his words dripping with venom.
I felt a surge of anger and hurt at his words, my mind racing with responses.
But…..
Kingston remained silent, his face a mask of stone.
He simply held my hand tighter, his grip a reassuring pressure that seemed to say, “Don’t worry, I’ve got this.”
But I couldn’t help feeling a sting from the man’s harsh words, and I wondered why Kingston wouldn’t speak up to defend me and our son.
“With all due respect, sir, I take offense to your remarks,” I said, my voice firm but controlled.
“You will not refer to my child as illegitimate, nor will you disparage me with such vile language. I am not a gold digger, and I will not be spoken to in such a manner.”
The elderly man’s face turned red with anger, and he took a step closer to me.
“Dare you to talk back at me, you…woman,” he spluttered, his words dripping with venom. “What an affront!”
Kingston’s grip on my hand tightened, and I could feel his tension.
But he remained silent, his expression unreadable.
I stood my ground, refusing to back down in the face of such disrespect.
The woman’s eyes widened in shock, and she seemed to shrink away from her husband’s outburst.
“Why are you getting upset, Mr. Lois?” Kingston finally spoke up, his voice calm but firm. “My woman is right; she’s neither a whore nor is my son an illegitimate child. Don’t ever again refer to the people I care about most in such a nasty manner.”
Mr. Lois sneered, “I see she’s taken your name to one of those African traditionalists, which has blinded you to the truth. Don’t forget you have a betrothed wife.”
TO Be Continued
