His Domineering Lover
Chapter 451

"Mr. Wallace, I have something important in that suitcase. Is it convenient to tell me your address, or could we make an appointment to exchange the suitcase?" The woman's voice was full of joy. "I'm going to sleep," the man said flatly. 'She should be referring to those cards, as the reapplications are troublesome.'

"Mr. Wallace, I'm sorry. I know it's late, but something in that suitcase means a lot to me. And I need it tomorrow. What about my going over to your house? You could open the door and give it back to me." The most important thing that Tracey mentioned was that recommendation letter because Franco and Adam went to the same college, but not the same major.

Adam was afraid that his alumnus did not take this request seriously, so he wrote a recommendation letter to display his sincerity and introduce Tracey.

The man pondered for a moment before answering, "OK, you may come, I live..."

Tracey was surprised at the address provided by the man. Wasn't it a coincidence? The man lived in a high-class apartment opposite hers!

He lived on the same floor as hers. Tracey ran to the balcony and looked at the opposite floor where a curtain blocked the sight.

"Mr. Wallace, it is so great! I live opposite you. You can see me when you open the curtain!" Tracey thought it was destiny that they had taken the same plane, had the same suitcases, and lived in the same neighborhood in a large country like the U.S.

The man immediately pulled opened the curtain at her words and saw a little woman on the opposite balcony waving at him, as well as a man standing beside her, whom he saw at the airport earlier. "Mr. Wallace, is that you?" Tracey saw a man wrapped in a bathrobe standing by the curtain but failed to figure out what he looked like due to the distance.

"Yea. Five minutes, stand before my door." The man's cold voice came.

"Okay, I'll be right there." Tracey hung up the phone and ran out in a hurry.

"It's too late. I will go with you." Steve also saw the man in the bathrobe and had a bad omen that it was not safe for Tracey to go alone.

"I'm not a child. I'll be back in ten minutes. Wait for me at home." Tracey was an independent-minded woman and didn't like to be treated as a child by others.

And she thought it a piece of cake to get her suitcase back within ten minutes and nothing to worry about.

She ran away with the suitcase in her hand. Steve looked at the paper in his hand, 'Wilson Wallace? Is it that Wilson Wallace?"

Tracey stood before Wilson's apartment and knocked on the door gently. The door was pushed open from the inside upon a third knock, and a man in a bathrobe appeared.

Tracey had slept all her way to the U.S and never spared a glance at the passenger next to her, so it was the first time she figured out what he looked like.

It seemed that the man just came out from a shower and had no time to dry his hair. His wet hair stuck to his cheek, and one or two drops of water fell down from time to time.

The man looked tough and pressed his thin lips together, enveloped into an aura of coldness. He was so tall that Tracey stood in his shadow upon his coming out.

"Mr. Wallace, I'm sorry to disturb you so late. This is your suitcase." Tracey showed no intention to enter the room, as she planned to return the suitcase, get hers, and leave immediately.

"Come in." The man moved aside. Tracey knew nothing about this man and was aware that there were only the two of them here.

"No. I would like to have my suitcase and leave now." Tracey refused.

"I need to check my suitcase to make sure nothing misses. You should check your suitcase face to face to avoid any troubles in the future." The man's cold words came, and Tracey felt that what he said was right.

"Then excuse me." Tracey came in with the suitcase. She was stunned by the black and white decoration when still in the hallway, "Well, what about I check my suitcase here?"

She knew from the orders inside the suitcase and the decoration of this apartment that this man must be a neat freak. The house was spotless, and all the furnishings were well-organized.

Even the back cushions on the sofa were arranged in order. And one might tell his serious obsessive-compulsive disorder and mysophobia from the details that the corners of each cushion corresponded to the patterns on the sofa.

She was afraid that her coming in would spoil the cleanness and made this man mad.

"Come in, the suitcase is here." The man led the way into the house.

Tracey was stunned for a while, "Then... Mr. Wallace, should I change my shoes?"

"No, there are no shoes for women." Wilson's voice was as cold as his manners. Tracey curled her lips and thought this man was too weird.

Tracey hated to make him mad at the smudged floor, so she took off her shoes after a second thought and walked in with bare feet.

The man looked back at Tracey, who forgot to wear her coat in a hurry but wore only a thin white dress now.

Her soft hair was scattered on her back, and she came in barefoot. The man would like to hold her in arms under an impulse.

"Mr. Wallace, please check your suitcase. Where is my suitcase?" Tracey gave the suitcase back to him.

To tell the truth, she did not like this place. The black and white decorations made her feel depressed and uncomfortable. "It's in that room." Wilson pointed to one room.

Tracey crept in. Why did she do so? Because she didn't feel at home at all though this apartment was luxurious and spacious.

The air conditioner was on, and she trembled with fear. She felt mad at the thought that she lived in this spacious and gloomy apartment alone.

It was so quiet and weird here that Tracey felt restless.

The room he pointed to was his bedroom. But there was not much difference between the bedroom and the living room. Out of Tracey's imagination, there was no wrinkle on the sheet, much neater than those in a five-star hotel.

Tracey found her suitcase at the bedside and open. The first thing she was looking for was not her bank cards, but the letter. 'Thank God, it is here!'

The letter was not sealed, so it was impossible for Tracey to find out that Wilson once opened it.

Wilson was standing behind her and was surprised by her first move toward the letter, not the card bag.

The letter was addressed to Franco. And he felt confused by her move,' Franco was more important than her cards?'

Seeing the small figure squatting on the ground, Wilson felt an impulse of protectiveness for her without reason.

For example, he wanted to hug her from behind at the sight of her squatting down.

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