by Kiru Taye
She couldn’t believe she was talking so loosely. But there was camaraderie sitting with these women and discussing men and relationship. She missed some of her friends in the UK that she hadn’t had a chat with for ages.
“But you’d like to date him,” Gloria asked.
“Yes.” She shrugged.
“So what are you doing here? Go and chat with him.” Ada encouraged.
“I can’t. He’s my boss.” Ebun replied, eyes wide.
“Ike and I work together. He’s my boss, and we’re married,” Lara said as encouragement.
“I asked Joshua out before we started dating. Some men are just too gentlemanly for their own good. Go and talk to him. You probably won’t get another chance outside the office when he’s relaxed enough and receptive.”
“You really think I should?” Ebun felt like a teenager being encouraged to tell a boy that she liked him. Yet there was nothing immature about the way she felt about Kamali.
“Yes!” the ladies chorused.
“Sheesh. Okay.” She grinned as she stood up. “I need another drink anyway.”
“Good luck,” someone muttered as she sashayed across the hard floor towards the bar.
Kamali stood with another man beside the counter.
She stopped next to him. Although there was a gap between their bodies, the skin on her bare arm tingled as if he brushed against it. She lifted her hand to get the barman’s attention, and when he arrived, she ordered a refill.
“I see you’re having fun.” Kamali turned in her direction.
She glanced at him, pulse racing. “Yes. It’s a fun crowd. Thanks for inviting me.”
Her evening had dramatically improved since her encounter with Jonah. And if she played her cards right, it might get better.
“You’re welcome.” The corners of his firm lips tilted up.
What would those lips feel like on her mouth? On her skin? Her mouth moistened. She looked up, and her heart stuttered in her chest.
He watched her too, his gaze moving from her lips to her eyes. Did he feel this burning attraction between them that threatened to raze her to the ground?
“So—” She swallowed the lump in her throat “—what about you? Are you having fun or are all the men just talking shop like Gloria said?”
He chuckled, the sound low and seductive, sending her belly a-flutter. She couldn’t recall seeing him this amused before. He was always so severe.
“The state of the Nigerian economy is a pretty hot topic in here,” he said and placed his glass on the counter. “It’s understandable since most of the men here are business executives.”
The barman brought her drink.
She thanked him, picked it up and took a sip. The bite of cola and alcohol fuelled her courage.
“Whenever I see you, you’re always so serious. Always working. Do you ever switch off, unwind, relax, you know?” She waved her hand in the air to indicate the other things he might do.
He hadn’t dated since his wife’s death. Sometimes she worried about him. But who was she to pity his lack of a love life? Hers was hardly anything to write home about.
“I’m in Lagos to run a business. Of course, I’m going to work most of the time. There’s not much else to do here.”
“But you have a family. Your daughter. Surely you spend time with her.”
“My daughter is in boarding school, and the rest of my family is up north, mostly in Katsina.”
“Oh. So it’s just you living in that big house in Ikoyi?” She’d stopped by once to drop off some documents. It was a beautiful white colonial detached house set on a spacious ground surrounded by landscaped gardens.
He shrugged.
“Don’t you ever get lonely?” She asked when he didn’t say anything.
“The house is full of servants,” he replied before taking a sip of his drink.
“That’s not the same as having company.”
He put his glass on the counter and leaned his arms on it. “What about you? Why aren’t you married?”
“Woah.” She reared back. “How did we go from us talking about your big house to me not being married?”
“If you’re asking probing questions about me, I’m entitled to probe you too.” His gaze pierced her, searching for something she couldn’t decipher.
“Fair enough,” she acknowledged with a sigh.
“So why aren’t you married at your age?” He raised his brow.
“At my age?” She tilted her head and placed her hand akimbo. “Is there an age limit to getting married?”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
“No. I don’t know it. And anyway, you’re older than me. You’re not married.”
“Ah.” He tilted his head and the glass. “But I’ve been married before.”
“True.” She mirrored his pose. “But why haven’t you remarried? Most men do.”
“I don’t want to. Once was enough” his voice hardened and the muscles on his neck corded.
Her breath hitched. After spending the past few years working for him, she’d figured out his reluctance to get married again. Yet his words hit her like a punch to the gut. He would never marry her.
She lifted her glass and drank some more to shake off the looming disappointment. She just had to find another way to claim him. He was still a hot blooded human being even if he would never remarry.
The beats of the music called to her, and she swayed in rhythm. There were others already gyrating on the dance floor.
“Dance with me.” She put her glass back on the counter. She buzzed from the alcohol, her inhibitions melted away.
“I don’t dance,” he said. “And you still haven’t told me why you’re not married.”
She leaned forward and whispered close to his ear. “Dance with me, and I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”
She looked up at him, her eyes challenging him. The ladies had been right. This was her one chance to catch him unguarded. On Monday, they’d be back at work, back to being professional colleagues.
He held her gaze, his eyes piercing. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. Come on.” She tugged his arm.
He chuckled and placed his glass on the counter beside hers. On the dimly lit dance floor, they had space between then and danced individually, facing each other. He had rhythm and moved gracefully although his dance was more conservative than some of the other dancers.
She tried not to invade his space but made sure she swayed and rolled her hips in motions that would entice a monk.
He watched her every move, seemingly unable to look away. There was no mistaking the desire in his expression.
They danced to a second track before she made an excuse to use the ladies. In there, she sent her driver a message and told him to go home. She would see him in the morning.
When she returned, Kamali sat on one of the low sofas. He had an unopened bottle of water with two new glasses.
“I thought you might like some water,” he said.
“Yes, please,” she replied and sat on the sofa next to him. Her heart warmed at his thoughtfulness. The dancing had made her hot and thirsty.
He twisted the cap and poured the water into the glasses.
She picked one up. “Thank you. Will it be okay to get a lift in your car? I sent my driver home because I didn’t see the point in paying for two drivers since we’re both at the same venue.” She thought if she couched it as saving the company some money, he wouldn’t read her ulterior motive.
“Sure.” He nodded. “I’m not going to stay much longer.”
“So you wanted to know my dirty, little secrets,” she teased.
He chuckled. “Well, I’d settle for one dirty, little secret—the reason a beautiful woman like you isn’t married yet.”
“Oh, now you’re teasing me. Anyway, the simple answer is that I haven’t met the right person.” Which was a better, generic face-saving reply rather than ‘nobody has proposed to me yet.’
“So the guy I saw you with downstairs isn’t the right person?” His eye brows drew together.
“Oh, Jonah? No, he’s not the right person.” She just realised the truth as she said it. Jonah had been great in bed. But when she pictured the father of her children and a future with anyone, he wasn’t the man of her dreams. “The person that I truly want isn’t interested in me.”
She didn’t want to tell Kamali that she thought the right person was sitting next to her on the sofa.
“That’s his loss.” He relaxed and placed his free arm on the arm of the chair, while he raised the other hand holding the glass in a toast. “There are plenty more fish in the sea, as they say.”
“Yes.” She raised her glass too. “But fishing is tedious sometimes, don’t you think?”
He nodded his head slowly. “I think so. I stopped fishing altogether.”
She puffed out a sigh and leaned head-back on the sofa. “I’m not having much luck with fishing. I think I might just join you as a non-fisher. Perhaps the two of us non-fishers can keep each other company.”
He reached across and covered her hand with his. The contact was electrifying. Her breath hitched. She raised her gaze. His amber eyes glowed with his need that seemed to match hers.
“Would you like to get out of here?” he asked, his voice seemed to have dropped an octave.
She licked her lips as her heart raced. “Yes. I’d love to get out of here.”
With lips tilted in a brilliant smile, he pushed off the settee.
She had to admit that whenever he smiled, it was like angels sang in a choir, making the world a cheerier place. She had the urge to burst out with Handel’s Messiah.
Tonight, he had been the most chilled out she’d ever seen him. She didn’t want this evening to end.
He extended his hand, and she placed hers in it. He pulled her up, and she wobbled a bit, colliding with him.
Damn, his body was solid mass underneath the shirt. Strong and unmistakably masculine. She inhaled deeply, taking in his scent of bergamot with a woody trail, raw and noble.
He grabbed her arms, steadying and separating her from his body. She missed his hardness instantly.
“Are you okay?” he asked, studying her face under hooded eyes.
“Yes. I’m fine.” She was definitely tipsy, but she had all her faculties functioning. Even if her judgement was a little impaired.
“Let me say good night to our hosts, and I’ll get you home.” He waved for her to walk ahead.
They strode over to where Henry chatted with another man Ebun didn’t recognise.
“Excuse us,” Kamali said. “Henry, I wanted to let you know we are heading out.”
“Let me find Gloria,” Henry replied as he turned to them. “I hope you’ve enjoyed yourselves.”
“Yes. It’s been a lovely evening,” Ebun replied.
They found Gloria with another group and Henry broke her out to explain that they were leaving.
“Thank you so much for coming,” Gloria gushed and hugged them.
“You’re welcome,” Kamali replied.
“Thank you for inviting us,” Ebun said.
“I hope I’ll see you at the wedding ceremony,” she said, glancing from Kamali to Ebun.
“Of course,” Kamali replied.
Ebun didn’t respond. She hadn’t received an invitation to the wedding. Gloria had said those words out of politeness. Nothing else.
Unless Kamali chose to take Ebun as his Plus One.
Ebun waved goodbye to the other ladies she’d chatted to earlier as they headed out.
Several men stood by the entrance to the VIP Lounge. Ebun assumed they were bodyguards considering the number of important men at the party. She recognised Kamali’s chief of security, Yakubu.
The man broke away from the group when he saw Kamali. Walking ahead, he spoke into a gadget in his hand.
Outside the premises, the night air had cooled somewhat aided by the sea breeze. Kamali’s Salamanca blue Rolls Royce Phantom pulled up close to the entrance. The door popped open and Yakubu held it.
Kamali waved for Ebun to get in.
“Thank you,” she said as she lowered into the seat.
Her mouth dropped open at the majesty surrounding her. She’d seen Kamali’s car before but she’d never been inside it. The interior was a mix of refinement and comfort in white and blue tones, glossy veneers and flawless leather, spacious and uncluttered. With enough room to stretch out, she could’ve been in a private jet or a luxury yacht.
If she needed a reminder that her boss lived in a different universe from her, then this would be it.
The bodyguard strode to the other side and opened the door.
“We’re going to Ms. Forson’s apartment,” Kamali said before he got into the vehicle.
“Yes, sir,” Yakubu replied as he shut the door. He climbed into the front seat next to the chauffeur.
“Do I need to tell them my address?” Ebun spoke since no one had asked her.
“No need. Yakubu knows where you live,” Kamali replied.
A frisson of surprise ran through Ebun. “He does? How?”
“It’s his duty to know where all the key personnel live in case of emergencies. Since you’re on company property, it’s easy to track.”
“Oh,” she said.
What he said made sense. Kamali took the security of his employees seriously. Due to incidents of criminals abducting and extorting money out of victims’ families, the company sent out regular memos to staff instructing them to be aware and take precautions due their travels and commute to work.
She sucked in a deep breath and relaxed into the plush leather.
They travelled in silence. A fixed centre console separated her from Kamali as they sat in individual seats.
Still, he dominated the space, his aura a potent mix of power and discipline. The man awakened feelings she’d buried, things she’d thought she could never have.
Pain shot through her, and she turned to look out of the tinted window at the blurry streets whizzing by. At this time of the night, no queues impeded their journey.
The car stopped in the car park outside her building. Yakubu exited and opened the door for her.
She got out, and the bodyguard opened Kamali’s side of the car. She dug her keys out as he walked with her to the communal entrance.
Anticipation made her heart race that he would come upstairs with her. She unlocked the door.
“Thank you for your company tonight,” Kamali said in a clipped tone.
Her chest tightened. Frowning, she glanced at him. “Aren’t you coming upstairs?”
He shook his head. In the low light she couldn’t read his expression. “I’ll see you in the office on Monday. Have a good night.”
He was blowing her off? Hadn’t he been the one to suggest they get away from the party? She’d thought...
Oh, God. Her stomach clenched.
“Good night,” she muttered through a clenched jaw and rushed inside, the door slamming shut behind her. She didn’t look back until she was inside the lift and pressed the button to get to her floor.
***
Electronic card key in her right hand and gym bag on her left shoulder, Ebun hurried out of the elevator. Using her shoulder, she pushed through the double doors and entered the hallway leading to her office.
The sound of the swinging hinge as the door closed behind her was the only sound in there.
The silence echoed as she’d expected for a Saturday morning. No one else should be on this floor, if not the whole building, aside from security. Everyone else had a life and was getting on with it.
This morning, she had the foolish notion of visiting the gym.
Perhaps she’d felt like punishing herself after last night.
She’d abandoned Jonah, their dinner and his plans for the night. She’d been glad to escape Jonah, and delighted when she’d been invited to Mr. Coker’s engagement party.
She’
d had a great night until she’d made a pass at her boss.
And he’d rebuffed her.
“Oh God,” she muttered under her breath and groaned.
What had possessed her?
She could blame the alcohol and her impaired judgement.
Otherwise, why would she have thought that a man like Kamali would have any interest in her?
The man was always dignified, aloof and distant. He would never stoop so low as to have an affair with his assistant.
But there’d been a point in the evening when they’d sat on the sofa chatting like old friends that she’d thought...perhaps.
The evening had only rammed home the futility of her fixation on Mr. Danladi. She had to let it go. He would never desire her the way she needed.
She would settle for being his assistant. They would only ever have a professional relationship.
So here she was, turning over a new leaf.
She’d ignored a call from Jonah this morning and gone to the gym for her first workout in six months. The new her needed a redirected focus—getting fit.
She’d had a consultation and then a session with a personal trainer. Two hours later, she wasn’t as exhausted as she’d thought she’d be because the routine hadn’t been strenuous.
Now, she popped into the office to pick up her laptop she’d left on Friday night. She tried to insert the key into her door but found it was unlocked.
Had the cleaning crew forgotten to lock it after they left?
She pushed the slab. It creaked as a gap appeared and she gasped.
Her boss stood behind her desk, rummaging through as stack of polypropylene lever-arch folders.
He glanced up at her. “Hello, Ms. Forson. What are you doing here?”
He was dressed in a light grey long-sleeved linen shirt that emphasised his broad shoulders and fitted charcoal linen trousers, an unexpected change from his usual dress shirt, tie and suit.
Her pulse slammed into overdrive. “I should be asking you that, sir. This is my office.”
“I know that. But it’s a Saturday. Why are you here?” His eyes narrowed, and he folded his arms across his chest. His voice was a very masculine, very sexy bass tone.