by Kiru Taye
The wall of heat hit her body as she stepped outside in the sunshine. She’d forgotten how warm it was outside because of the coolness of the hotel. The temperature had to be close to the hottest day in a London summer and it was only ten am. Compared to the mild spring temperature in London when she’d departed, it was baking hot in Abuja.
Luckily the Mercedes GL car that had been used to drive them from the airport was parked just outside the entrance. The driver stood outside it, holding the back door open for them. She quickly got into the air-conditioned space before Charles joined her.
“Phew. It’s hot today, isn’t it,” Charles said when he shut the car door.
“It sure is. We’re no longer in London,” Ijay laughed. “Is this your first time in Nigeria?” she asked as the car left the hotel premises and joined the mid-morning traffic.
“Yes. First time in Africa, I have to confess. I’m more of the ski holiday kind of person, I’m afraid.”
“Really? So you’ve never even been to Marrakesh or Sharma el Sheikh as most of British holiday makers enjoy?”
“No. Sad, isn’t it? I’m happy to spend winter in the Ice Hotel in Sweden but summer in a hot climate and I end up looking like a lobster. At least that’s what Fiona calls me. She always insists we book a vacation in the Caribbean to compensate for all the ski trips I take her on.” Charles chuckled.
Ijay smiled. “I don’t blame her,” she replied.
Fiona was Charles wife and a high powered lawyer in London. Apparently they’d been childhood sweethearts. Ijay had met Fiona a few times and she always came across as hard-nosed which was such an opposite of Charles who was a gentle soul. Fiona was petite, slim and blonde-haired. Charles was tall, pale-skinned and ginger-haired. Yet despite their differences, they seemed to have been in love forever.
She glanced out of the car window, her mind turning to her own personal relationships. Despite the differences she had with Vincent, could their relationship withstand the test of time? She really didn’t know the answer to that question.
As the scenery whizzed by, the car taking her closer to her destination—and Paul—her anxiety returned. Her palms felt clammy, her skin breaking out in a sweat. She smoothed her hand against her skirt and tried not to fidget. She couldn’t blame her clammy skin on the heat of the sun. She was sitting in the freezing coolness of a fully air-conditioned car. It was her rising fears overtaking her body.
For one, she’d found out Vincent wasn’t altogether happy that she was going to work in Nigeria while he wasn’t there. She’d never thought of him as controlling.
Still, his reaction when she’d told him about being assigned the POD project had been less than congratulatory. He’d told her to request a reassignment to another project instead of going to Nigeria. She’d had to explain that this was a major project for her, the first since her promotion. She couldn’t afford not to do it. She couldn’t afford to mess it up either.
They’d fallen out over it and hadn’t spoken for a few days. It had been their first major argument. In the end, he’d called her to say he’d accepted she could go. Angry about his initial stance, she’d insisted he explain his irrational behaviour. He’d said he was concerned about her wellbeing in Abuja given the recent security issues. He’d been worried about the danger she’d be putting herself into.
His explanation made sense to her, his concern for her wellbeing melting her initial anger. She promised that she’d be careful and they soon made up. It seemed his concern for her absence hadn’t persuaded him to change his mind about their physical intimacy. Her attempt to spend the night in his bed was again rebuffed. As usual he dropped her off to the apartment she shared with Sonia later that night.
She exhaled in frustration, her hands clenching on her lap. All her attempts at seducing Vincent had failed. It seemed she wouldn’t get to feel any passion in their relationship until they finally said "I do."
She had to wait. There was nothing else to do.
Except she felt edgy, unfulfilled and lonely. She hadn’t realised one could be in a relationship and feel that way.
Is it just me? Is there something fundamentally wrong with me? How can I have a great man like Vincent and still feel unfulfilled?
Vincent was still a good catch. They’d met when a friend had invited her to watch a play at the National Theatre. After the show, they’d had drinks in one of the bars along the Southbank. She’d discovered they shared so much together—a love for music and drama.
So they didn’t agree on everything, their sexual relationship being one of them. Yet, it wasn’t insurmountable. All they needed was that one night together and that problem would be solved. He was a really good doctor with a passion for his job, just like she had a passion for her job. He was successful and driven. Just as she was. So there were plenty of pluses in their relationship.
All she had to do was get through the next few weeks of work. Vincent was coming to Nigeria in a month’s time. They would spend the last two weeks together as they conclude the plans for their traditional wedding. So there shouldn’t be any reason for her to worry.
Yet as the car pulled into the business premises for POD Foods, the butterflies in her stomach took flight again.
Paul is in there. He’s waiting for you.
Annoyed at the stray thoughts that crept into her mind, she tightened her grip on her bag as she readied to step out of the car. It didn’t stop her heart rate from increasing. Whether it was apprehension or excitement driving her reaction, she didn’t want to dwell on analysing it. Instead she reminded herself of the reason she was there. Business.
The chauffeur opened her car door. Inhaling a few calming breaths, she stepped out. Quickly she followed Charles into the building to get out of the blazing sunshine. The security man greeted them as they walked past. At the reception desk, they signed the visitor’s book as the receptionist called Pamela to inform her of their arrival.
Before long, a tall skinny girl with skin like dark chocolate and long jet-black hair strode out of the lifts in a pink shirt and navy pencil skirt and navy high-heeled shoes.
“Mr. Havers, I’m Pamela. It’s nice to finally meet you,” she said, her mocha lips lifted in a welcoming smile as she stretched her hand out.
“Hi Pamela, it’s nice to be here. Please call me Charles,” Charles said as he shook her hand. “This is Ijay Amadi.” He introduced Ijay with a wave of his other hand.
Ijay stepped forward, smiling and extending her hand. “It’s great to finally put a face to a name, Pamela.” They both shook hands. Ijay liked Pamela instantly. She radiated warmth and intelligence.
“Likewise, Ijay. You’re both welcome to POD Foods. Let me take you upstairs. Paul is waiting in his office,” Pamela replied.
At the mention of Paul’s name, Ijay’s heart jumped with unease, her skin temperature rising rapidly. Suddenly she wasn’t so sure she wanted to see him. Wasn’t so sure that she could look at him without the memories of what they’d done together invading her mind.
Surely it was much better not to see him at all. Not to rehash something that had been beautiful and yet so temporary. Despite the heat that unfurled in her belly every time she thought about him, she belonged to someone else now. There could be no going back.
Absentmindedly, she rubbed the ring on her finger as she followed Pamela and Charles into the lift. The ring acted as a talisman for her. It was there as a source of reassurance and reminder.
“How was your flight to Abuja?” Pamela asked when the lift started its journey upward.
“It was a good flight. I managed to sleep most of the way,” Charles replied.
“Yes, that’s one of the reasons I was glad it was an overnight flight. Although I’m quite surprised I’m still functioning well after less than four hours sleep,” Ijay answered. “I think most of it is probably adrenaline and excitement. It’s my first time in Abuja.”
“Same here,” Charles added, nodding his head as he turned back to Pamela. “From
what I can see so far, it’s a really nice city.”
“It is. I enjoy living and working here. While you’re here, if there’s anything you need at all just ask me,” Pamela said just before the lift doors beeped and opened.
“Thank you,” Ijay and Charles said almost together.
“You’re welcome. This way, please,” Pamela declared before leading then down a hallway flanked on either side by offices.
Ijay realised that each step of her stride took her closer to Paul. Wanting to distract herself from the mix of excitement and apprehension churning in her stomach and making her hands tremble, she watched the space around her.
Tentatively, she smiled as she walked along, impressed by what she’d seen so far: modern furnished offices, people working on PCs or laptops, people in meeting rooms with round tables and flipcharts. It was no different from any office environment in London. It was strange because she hadn’t known what to expect. She hadn’t lived in Nigeria for over ten years. And the way the media portrayed Africa in the news, it was like the whole of Africa was still in the dark ages.
Yet this morning she’d been driven on well paved roads in relatively little traffic, sat in an expensive car with all modern conveniences, and was now in a suite of offices similar to those on Canary Wharf.
I don’t see this on BBC News.
Pamela stopped in front of a brushed steel door with the name, Paul Arinze, Managing Director, tagged on it and knocked.
“Come in,” the deep commanding voice was unmistakably Paul’s.
The pounding of her heart against her ribs increased. Even through the disjointed barrier of the wall and door, she could still feel the effect of his silken voice deep down in her core. Just like that first night.
This is it.
Pamela opened the door and allowed Charles to go in first. Taking a deep bolstering breath, Ijay stepped into the office behind Charles.
Paul stood up and walked round his wide steel desk. Her breath caught in her throat. In the light of day, he looked even more incredible than she remembered. In navy-blue pinstripe trousers, light-grey shirt and embroidered blue silk tie, Paul looked very potent and smart.
Instantly she recognised the tie. It was the same one he’d used to bind her hands that night. Images of the two of them bombarded her mind. Paul kissing her feet, licking her breasts, filling her up until she felt like every pore of her body was saturated with him. Her body came alive, the flame of lust licking her skin with heat. Her breasts heavy and aching with need.
Transfixed, she mentally shook her head but was unable to look away from Paul as he walked toward Charles. She’d forgotten just how powerfully lithe he was. The sureness and flow of his stride reminded her of his ability to ensnare her attention. Charles was a tall man but he stood shoulder to shoulder with Paul.
“My dear Charles, welcome to Abuja,” Paul said as they both shook hands and smacked each other on the back. He didn’t even glance at Ijay. It was almost as if she wasn’t there.
Could it be that he doesn’t remember me?
Her stomach churned, her mouth tasting the bitterness. Somehow she didn’t like the thought that he might have already forgotten about her in six months. Surely that was what she wanted all along. To forget and be forgotten.
No! Not when he’s wearing that tie. If I’m going to be made to remember every detail of him, then I want him to remember every detail of me too!
Anger bubbled in Ijay’s veins chasing the apprehension away. She stiffened her back and stood taller, focusing back her attention on the two men. It dawned on her then that Charles and Paul were friends. She hadn’t realised before and had thought the two were acquainted through Frederick. Perhaps not, by the way they had just hugged each other.
If her boss was very good friends with Paul, how would that affect her work and career if things went wrong? She didn’t know. It was more reason she had to keep her relationship with Paul professional for the duration of this project. She couldn’t jeopardise her work.
“It’s good to be here, my old friend,” Charles said confirming Ijay’s fear. I want to introduce you to Ijay. She’ll be working directly with you on the project on this end and feeding into the team in London.”
For the first time since they walked into his office, Paul turned his attention on her. His lips were lifted in a lopsided grin. Yet his black eyes were hard as granite. She sensed anger radiating from him, somehow. His smile was for the benefit of the audience. Is he angry at me? Why? She inhaled deeply, confused.
“Of course, I remember Ms. Amadi. She’s the wonderful lady that organised Frederick’s product launch event, right? I met her in London on my last visit,” his tone was light and still jovial.
Ijay stepped forward, extending her right hand to meet his. “That’s correct, Mr. Arinze,” she responded, happy that her legs didn’t wobble under Paul’s close observant gaze, forcing a cool smile on her face.
He took her hand into his firm calloused hand. A burst of electric energy travelled up her arm, pooling heat in her belly. Her eyes widened with surprise. She pulled at her hand. Slowly, he released it, his eyes sparkling with a knowing glint, his lips lifted in a half-amused smile.
Immediately, she knew he remembered everything. He’d worn that tie on purpose to remind her of their night together. Agitated, she bit her lower lip and looked away quickly, her heart fluttering wildly.
Why is he doing this when he hasn’t bothered to contact me in six months? Why now?
Chapter Eight
You can’t run forever. I’ve got you, now.
Paul held Ijay’s wild gaze, her brown eyes flickering with a mixture of confusion and desire. Inhaling deeply, he quelled a smug smile from breaking out on his face. Anticipation thrummed in his veins. He was one step closer to having Ijay again. He hadn’t known how much that would thrill him until he’d seen her standing in the middle of his office, looking even more radiant in the morning than she’d done that night, months ago.
In her alluring plum skirt suit that flattered her feminine curves, she looked sharp and confident. With her matching high-heeled pumps, she looked tall and sexy, her straight legs elongated.
He inhaled deeply. The sweet fragrance of lilies invaded his nostrils. The sweet scent of Ijay. He watched as her buttery-coloured skin darkened on her smooth cheeks. It wasn’t quite a rosy blush. More a plum colour like her suit.
He knew that response. He’d seen her satiny skin take on that hue before, when she was sexually stimulated. She was aroused now. He’d bet on it. This close to her, he could smell it. Almost taste the syrupy sweetness of her essence.
It was good to know he still affected her. Just like she affected him. He schooled his expression and moved back, needing the distance to tamper down his body’s response to her presence.
“Please have a seat,” Paul said. Turning away from Ijay, he ushered his guests to the small round table. Sitting on the sofas would be a bad idea, though their meeting would be relatively informal since they’d only arrived in Nigeria this morning. It was purely for meet-and-greet purposes. The real hard work would start the next day. But he needed the height of the table to cover his body’s growing response to Ijay.
The both muttered their thanks and walked past him toward the table. From the corner of his eyes he watched Ijay stride to the table, her wide hips swaying gently, her round behind hugged tightly by her plum six-panelled A-line skirt.
When she pulled out a chair, she took off her matching jacket and hung it over the back of the chair, revealing her fitted sleeveless white cotton shirt. From her body’s demeanour, she appeared serene as she sat down. She sat with her shoulders straight and hands on her lap. Charles sat next to her.
Paul moved to the other side of the table and sat down. A vantage position to watch Ijay from. He wanted to observe her face, her expressions. Yet it gave him some distance from her. If he sat next to her, he might be unable to keep his hands off her body.
When she looked up at him
, her gaze hardened in a furious glare, her lips pursed in a straight line. Unprepared for her fury, his breath caught in his throat, his heart hitting his chest with force.
She knows!
Stifling a self-satisfied smile on his lips, he reached for his tie deliberately, in the pretence of adjusting it. Her stare followed his hands’ movement to the tie. The skin on the back of his hand prickled under the intensity of her glare. He didn’t care. He was getting the response from her that he wanted. He’d worn the tie today, especially for her. His frustration at her disappearing act that night drove him. He wanted her to remember that night, him and everything they’d done.
The blue embroidered silk tie was the best symbol of their encounter. He hadn’t worn it since that night because each time he’d picked it up, Ijay's scent filled his lungs with yearning. Recollections of their time together would come flooding back, leaving him aching and frustrated.
Just like the tie had been a symbol of his power over her body that night, it had since become a symbol of her memories’ power over his body. Wearing it today was a way of shifting that power base again. Wearing it was putting control right back into his hands. Exactly where he wanted it.
The sound of crockery rattling on a laden trolley full of refreshments being wheeled in by Pamela distracted him for a moment.
“Ah. Refreshments are here. Please help yourselves. I know you Europeans love your coffee. We have the best of Kenyan coffee here,” he said, pointing to the trolley laden with drinks and pastries. One of the reasons he was grateful for Pamela. She always did her best to make sure they catered for their visitors’ tastes.
“Thank you. That’s quite a selection just for us,” Charles said, pouring himself a cup of coffee from the flask before loading his porcelain plate.
“You know we Africans don’t joke with our bellies. I personally can’t function well without a decent breakfast,” he joked.
Charles laughed. Paul saw a tentative smile break on Ijay’s face. His heart lifted momentarily. Without saying anything, she reached out and poured herself a drink. Something on her finger caught the light and sparkled. It drew his attention and his gaze narrowed to her hand. On her engagement finger was a small diamond stone sitting on a gold band.