Bound to Fate (Bound Series, #1)

by Kiru Taye

  They didn’t speak as they faced the lift. He pressed the call button deliberately looking out of the window at the view of the bustling metropolis of Victoria Island below rather than at the woman standing next to him, though he was aware of her presence in every other sense. She avoided eye contact as they both got into the carriage and stood side by side although there remained a gap of an arm span between them. He kept his eyes fixed on the brushed aluminium panels of the closed doors as the lift descended towards the ground floor.

  Finally seeing her again for the first time in long years, she looked like she’d rather be anywhere but where he was. He should just let her go and forget about her.

  Where was the challenge in that, though? Anyway, since Olu had offered her a job, he’d be seeing her often enough, so why not get started right now? He was a business man known for his cool composure and level-headed judgement, the consummate professional. He’d left the follies of his youth behind.

  In the enclosed space of the lift, Ike was suddenly more aware of Lara. Her timid smile—which hadn’t changed in five years, it seemed—beguiled him, squeezing at his heart. Her glossy short hair, a sassy change from the long dark braids he remembered, he yearned to feel between his fingers. Her light floral perfume tickled his senses, filling him with an urge to draw her closer to inhale her deeply. He clenched his fists to stop himself from reaching out and mentally shook his head.

  What’s the matter with you? She practically screamed and told you to piss off the last time you saw her.

  Luckily, the lift doors opened and this time, he stepped out first, needing the distance to control himself. He sucked in much-needed air that didn’t smell of her fragrance.

  How could it be so difficult to maintain his composure around her? He hadn’t seen her for five years and he’d been fine. All of a sudden, now, he wanted to make physical contact with her. Like they’d never been separated.

  Damn.

  He waited at the reception area for her to return her visitor’s badge and sign out of the register. Outside, surprisingly, he welcomed the heat of the evening sun as he headed to his parked car. The chauffeur had already brought it up front so it was ready to go. It was a Mercedes E63 AMG. His love for sporty, powerful cars remained even if these days, he got to sit in an executive model with a chauffeur up front, and he’d gone from Asian to European manufacturers.

  A slight sea breeze blew the flap of his jacket. The beep beep of cars on Ahmadu Bello Way floating in the air.

  “Which direction are you headed for? I’ll drop you off,” he said as Lara headed towards the exit.

  “It’s fine. I’ll find my own way home.”

  “Lara, I said, I’ll take you home,” he insisted.

  His eyes carried a warning; his voice and his stance would tell her he wouldn’t take no for an answer. The driver was staring at both of them and the security guard behind them was watching, too.

  “If you are sure,” Lara stated, maintaining a level stare at him.

  “I am,” he replied.

  With a short nod, she stepped into the car.

  ***

  A stirring tension in the air… Ike could feel it, taste it, and smell it, even.

  Lara sat next to him in the back seat of his car. They’d departed TI Towers over twenty minutes ago heading towards her block of flats in Ajah, which turned out to be one of TI properties. He’d registered the address as soon as she spoke it. Irony of ironies—his lips tugged in a smirk.

  In that time, neither of them had spoken nor stirred. Lara was giving him the silent treatment. Not that he’d made any attempt to break the palpable stillness. They had ignored each other as soon as the car had moved off. She’d turned away to look out of the window—mouth pursed, back stiffened—reminding him of the statue of a belligerent Yoruba goddess he had seen at a museum. He had in turn opened his laptop to read a document in preparation for a meeting with a client tomorrow.

  Letting out a deep breath, he closed down his laptop with exasperation, scrubbing his face with his hand. Who was he kidding? For once, the words on the document he was attempting to read didn’t make any sense; they were swimming across the screen, teasing him. Even when his brain registered the words, they were quickly replaced by another image. The picture of a sweet, pretty girl with long, dark, braided hair, bright, enquiring brown eyes, and a timid distracting smile.

  The same girl sitting next to him in his car.

  Lara.

  Except she had grown into a beautiful woman with a short, sassy haircut that showed off her unblemished oval face and delicate neck exquisitely, passionate eyes that flashed with flecks of crimson when she was angry and reminding him of the late evening sunshine, and a smile framed by fuller, more sensuous lips.

  But there was more to her. None of naivety she had displayed when he’d first met her lingered.

  Seeing her again was like seeing a dead person reawakened. He’d mourned her years ago like she’d been dead. To think of her living and walking around without him and maybe with someone else had nearly driven him insane. The only way he had been able to cope was to grieve her loss like he had mourned his father, as if she was never coming back. He had made a conscious decision to forget her, to forge a new life. It hadn’t been easy, but throwing himself into work and the business had been a healing elixir.

  But here she was, sitting in his car, soon to start work in his firm as an employee. Why was she here? Why now, after all these years? Did she really think she could turn up and they could pretend there wasn’t a past? That they didn’t have a history together? That he’d never held her in his arms? Never tasted her sweetness?

  He watched her; she practically sat as far away from him as possible in the enclosed space of the car. Her eyes trained to look out of the window but he knew she wouldn’t see the scenery. She had that distant look about her. Was she thinking the same thing as him? About the past? Their past together?

  The image of the two of them flashed in his mind and his heart rammed in his chest.

  Damn it. Did she plan to just ignore him? Pretend like he wasn’t here? For how long? Like hell.

  “Lara.”

  Her chest moved up and down as she sighed heavily before turning slowly to face him. Suspicious caramel eyes stared back at him, her shoulders hunched with resignation as if bracing for something unpleasant.

  “Mr. Thomas, if you don’t want me to work at TI, I’ll reject the job offer.”

  Her voice was strained, and something around his heart softened. He wanted to pull her into his arms, to tell her that everything was going to be okay. However, he couldn’t say it, because he wasn’t sure everything was going to be all right.

  She leaned back into the seat and squeezed her eyes shut.

  Ike heaved a sigh. She opened her eyes and looked at him.

  “I don’t want you to quit the job. You earned it.” He scrubbed his head with his hand and for the first time today, his cool exterior slipped.

  “Then what do you want?” Her wavering voice rose a notch, her hands jerking.

  “I just want to talk to you.”

  “I don’t want to talk to you.”

  “What? You came for a job interview at TI and you expect not to talk to me?” He laughed derisively.

  The car had stopped in front of her building.

  She pulled back and glared at him. “I went for a job interview. I got offered the job. I’m sure it doesn’t say on the contract that I have to talk to you outside of the business. I’m sure you don’t want to get sued for sexual harassment.”

  He flinched. “And I’m sure you don’t want to gain a reputation for being unemployable.”

  “Fine. You want to talk to me? I’m doing it where I’ll be more comfortable.” She pushed the door open and walked towards the entrance of the building without looking back.

  Ike got out of the car and strode after her.

  She didn’t pause for breath as they climbed the stairs until they got to the first floor. Sh
e put the key in the lock and shoved the door open. He followed her in and shut the panel after her.

  She tossed her bag on the table in the living room and took her jacket off. Then she walked into the hallway. He used the opportunity to take his jacket off and look around the space. It was tastefully decorated and he wondered if she lived alone. He knew how much the apartments cost to rent, and if she was unemployed, she certainly couldn’t afford it.

  She came back and headed to the balcony doors which she pushed aside. From the corner of his eye, he saw a light flicker and he turned to face her when he realised she’d lit a cigarette.

  Lara smoked?

  His mouth fell agape. Would the surprises ever stop today?

  “Lara, you’re a smoker?”

  “Yes. Do you have a problem with that?” she snapped.

  “Yes, I do. You shouldn’t smoke.”

  “Well, you can’t tell me what to do, and if you don’t like it, you can piss off.”

  “What the hell’s the matter with you?”

  “You want to know what’s wrong with me? You are.” She pointed the hand holding the cigarette at him. “You are my fucking problem.”

  “What?”

  “Are you shocked at seeing me like this?” She paced up and down. “What were you expecting? The virginal, naive school girl of five years ago? Did you come to see if you could pick up from where you left off? Well, news flash. That girl is dead. She died that night.”

  His eyes widened as his stomach rolled and gooseflesh mottled his skin.

  “Yes, you killed her that night.” She glared at him as if she truly believed her words. “And this is what you’re left with.” She pointed at her body up and down. “This dirty smoker of a slut. Good news is that you don’t have to teach me anything. I can fuck like a trooper.”

  “That’s it. I’ve heard enough of this nonsense.” He strode across to her, snatched the cigarette off her, and stomped on it.

  She clawed at him, wrestling with him.

  “Calm down!”

  “Fuck you!”

  They both landed on the sofa with him on top of her. She trashed about but he held her down until she quieted and he realised she had tears on her face.

  Chapter Eleven

  What the hell was going on?

  The sight of the tears sliding down the side of Lara’s face had Ike’s entire body freezing for a moment. The old feelings of protectiveness he’d had for her resurfaced, gripping his heart in a clamp and leaving him breathless for a moment.

  “Lara, are you hurt?” he asked as he scrambled off her and sat up at the edge of the sofa.

  She didn’t respond, instead turned to her side and pulled her legs up so she was curled up in the foetal position.

  He wrinkled his brow as his mouth dried out. He hadn’t felt anything so strong in a long while, and his worry bordered on anxiety. He cleared his throat so he could speak. “Lara?”

  Unnerved by her continued lack of response, he got on his knees on the floor so he could look at her face properly.

  She stared straight ahead and he had to look back to see if something in particular had caught her attention. The only thing there was the midsized television, currently turned off.

  He looked at her face again and realised her open eyes were dull. Vacant. Like she had vacated her body. There were no new tears and she wasn’t blinking.

  He remembered a movie he’d watched a while back titled Invasion of the Body Snatchers where humans were being replaced by clones without any emotions. It felt the same way right now staring at Lara. As if she’d been replaced by a clone or at least by someone he didn’t know, if her earlier outburst was anything to go by.

  “Please, talk to me, so I know you’re okay.” He kept his voice soft and pleading. And he couldn’t remember the last time he’d pleaded for anything.

  She didn’t talk. Didn’t move. Didn’t blink.

  He checked the pulse on her wrist and found the constant beat.

  Satisfied that she was still alive and breathing, he paced up and down in the living room, regularly glancing at her as he waited for her to do something. Anything.

  Nothing changed.

  Surely, this wasn’t normal behaviour. Something had to be terribly wrong.

  After five excruciating minutes of pacing, his anxiety for her wellbeing growing to maddening levels, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and called the only person who he knew could deal with this situation.

  “Ike, how are you?” she answered in a sing-song American accent.

  “Hello, Jocelyn. I need your help,” he said, making an effort not to betray his anxiety in his voice.

  Jocelyn Okoro was a medical doctor who specialised in psychiatry. She had studied and lived in the USA until she’d been offered the job as part of TI medical team. She also happened to be a close friend of his.

  “How can I help?” she asked, and he could mentally picture her reaching for her notepad.

  “I’ve got a situation here.” He sucked in a deep breath and puffed it out. “I’m with someone and she’s not responding when I speak to her.”

  “Hang on,” she said, her tone acquiring an urgent clip. “Have you checked her pulse and breathing?”

  Ike stared at Lara again. Her chest was rising and falling. “Yes, her pulse is steady but slow and her breathing is regular, so she’s alive.”

  “Good. Are you in TI Tower? I can come to you.”

  “No, I’m not in the building. I’m in Ajah.”

  “Oh. It’s not Gloria, is it?”

  He pictured her forehead creasing in a frown. “No. Lara is an old friend I hadn’t seen for a while. I’m just a little concerned about her. Can you help?”

  “Okay. Tell me what happened.”

  He described the encounter when they’d gotten into Lara’s apartment. “One minute we were arguing. I took away her cigarette and she scratched my arm. I grabbed her hands to stop her and we fell on the sofa. The next, she suddenly stopped moving and became unresponsive.”

  Jocelyn went quiet for a little while. He presumed she was assessing her words to understand the scene.

  “Ike, without seeing the person, I can’t make a proper diagnosis on the phone. But from what you describe, how she went from a state of hysteria to catatonia, she could be suffering from PTSD.”

  “Huh?” He’d heard about the disorder. But it made no sense in this situation. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder can happen to people who’ve been exposed to traumatic events.”

  “Like what?”

  “Traumatic events can be anything from sexual assault, rape, physical or mental abuse, to traffic accidents, terrorism, or even war.”

  He shook his head, gave a glance at Lara, turned his back, and stepped into the hallway before lowering his voice. “Are you saying she could be the victim of one of those things?”

  “Yes, and from what you’ve described, it seems like something you did triggered an episode where her mind thinks she’s about to suffer the same thing again.”

  “What the hell? I would never...” he said in a harsh, low voice. He was about to say ‘hurt her’ but he couldn’t be sure that he hadn’t in the past.

  “Triggers can be different for different victims. For victims of violence, it could be any action that mirrors violence. So maybe when you grabbed her and forced her down, her mind thought she was about to be attacked.”

  “Fuck!” He tilted his head back and stared up at the white ceiling. He pictured how he’d snatched the cigarette and gripped Lara’s arms when she’d scratched him.

  He strode to the living room door and stared at her prone body. Had someone held her down without her permission? Forced himself on her?

  He rocked back and forth and his hands trembled. What had she said about the last time he’d seen her in Enugu?

  “That girl is dead. She died that night...You killed her that night.”

  His head became
heavy and drooped forward. He leaned it against the wall. Something had happened to her that night and she blamed him for it.

  “You’re right,” he said in a quiet voice into the phone. “I think something happened to her, years ago.”

  “Something like what?” Jocelyn asked, probably wanting to identify the root cause of the problem so it could be treated.

  “I don’t know but I’m going to find out.” He had to. Not knowing was no longer an option after seeing Lara in this state.

  “You do realise that most victims of sexual assault or any form of abuse don’t talk about what happened to them.”

  “Why?” He frowned.

  “Because society shames them and makes them a victim a second time. Most try and lock away the trauma. Unfortunately, a lot of them live with PTSD for the rest of their lives.”

  He sighed. “Can you help her?”

  “If she comes to me, I can certainly do my best.”

  “I’m not sure she’ll agree to see you. Anyway, I can’t just tell her to go and see a psychiatrist.”

  “True,” Jocelyn said. “That’s another stigma that’s ingrained into society. People think seeing a psychiatrist means being branded as a crazy person. Mental illness is a disease just like cancer or heart disease. It needs to be treated as such.”

  “You’re preaching to the converted,” Ike said. He understood that mental health was as important as physical health, which was why he’d insisted on providing it as part of the health care benefits of TI employees. “I know a way to get her to see you. She’s just got a job at TI so she’ll be undergoing the usual assessments for the health insurance benefit. I want you to do an extended evaluation while she’s with you.”

  “I can do a full clinical assessment when she comes to see me. You can access the summary report that goes to HR about her overall wellbeing. But you do realise that anything she says will remain confidential. ”

  Jocelyn was a true professional and he didn’t expect anything less from her. “Yes, I know. I just want you to help her.”

  “Okay. In the meantime, keep an eye on her. The catatonia will pass but it could last from a few minutes to a few hours. When she wakes, she might be disorientated for a few seconds. Call me back if you need to.”