by Kiru Taye
Paul looked at her, his brow lifted in a stunned query. “You would?”
“Yes. I’d love to know what it is about the city you love so much,” she replied, beaming him a friendly smile.
His dark eyes sparkled as he returned the smile. He really was gorgeous when he smiled, the harsh angles of his face softened by laughter lines. “Hopefully, if we finish with the factory visits early enough, I’ll get to show you the city. I spent some of my best times here as a boy and young man.”
“Really? You were born here?” she asked excited that he was already loosening up and willing to chat.
“No, I was born in Lagos. My father sent me to boarding school here when I was old enough,” he answered conversationally.
“Perhaps, you’ll get to show me your old school one day.” She knew she was pushing it. Still, she had to keep going now.
He looked at her curiously again, scrutinising her as if trying to figure out her motive for wanting to know so much. Her face heated up as she blushed under his scrutiny.
“Perhaps,” he said ominously.
The car pulled up in front of wrought iron gates in a house surrounded by high fencing. Ijay couldn’t make out much of the building inside. It looked large and imposing.
“Simon, open the gates,” Paul spoke into his mobile phone.
A few minutes later, the gates slid back. They drove into a wide paved driveway. The car stopped in front of a portico with Greco-Roman white pillars. The house was a large modern two-storey building with white-washed walls and neo-Georgian windows.
Paul stepped out of the car and Ijay shortly followed suit. For a moment she couldn’t speak and had to close her mouth wide open in amazement.
“Welcome to my home, Ijay,” Paul said, his voice filled with emotion and a warm smile on his face. He appeared genuinely happy to have her there.
“Thank you,” she said unable to hide the curiosity in her voice. “You live here alone?”
He frowned at her, his brow lifted in a mocking query as if she’d asked a stupid question. “With my family, of course.”
His family?
A wave of nausea hit Ijay. She leant onto the car for support to hold up her wobbly legs as she fought the dizzy spell that took hold of her.
Chapter Sixteen
“Welcome, big bro.”
Still stunned, Ijay lifted her head and looked up; distracted momentarily from her worrying thoughts, as the young man who’d opened the gates greeted Paul enthusiastically.
Strangely, she welcomed the distraction and shoved aside the blanket of despair that hit her mind. There had to be a simple explanation for Paul’s reference to his family. Surely he wouldn’t have brought her to his family home if he was married.
So she focused on the young man. He was almost as tall as Paul, lanky and looked in his late teens or early twenties, dressed in blue denim and black t-shirt with stylish trainers on his feet. He’d addressed Paul as big brother. Still, that could be just an African thing—a boy’s way of showing respect to an older man. It didn’t mean they were related.
“Thank you, Simon. It’s good to be home,” Paul answered with a bright smile as the boy approached. “How’s school?”
“Not bad at the moment,” the young man replied as Paul clasped his shoulder.
Ijay studied Simon’s face in the fading light. The slash of his eyebrows and strong curve of his nose were similar to Paul’s. He could pass for a younger version of Paul.
That wasn’t possible, or was she just seeing things?
“Good. This is Ijay. She’ll be staying with us for a few days.” Paul turned to Ijay, his eyes twinkling with humour. He looked animated. It was the most excited she’d seen him in days.
“You’re welcome,” Simon greeted with a welcoming smile, drawing her attention back to him.
“Thank you,” Ijay replied returning the smile.
Despite her misgivings, when two charming men were smiling down at her with such warmth, it was tough not to give in and go with the flow. She’d find out what was going on soon enough.
Simon moved to help Amaechi who was getting the luggage out of the car boot.
“Please bring the bags inside,” Paul said as he extended his hand to Ijay, indicating she should follow him.
Ijay followed Paul inside the house. They walked through a wide hallway with marble flooring and original landscape paintings by Nigerian artist Kanayo Ede, hanging on the walls. He led her into a spacious living room. The marble flooring continued in here too. And more paintings on the wall with sculptures and figurines in the room corners.
One picture hanging on the wall in a focal position drew Ijay’s attention. It wasn’t an oil painting on canvas. Rather, it was the framed picture of a beautiful young woman in traditional Ibo attire. The woman seemed to be smiling down on them benevolently.
Curious, Ijay wanted to ask who the woman was as she studied the picture. However, she bit her tongue choosing to keep silent for now.
“Please sit down,” Paul said, waving his hand to one of the tan coloured leather sofas. “I need to arrange for a room to be prepared for you.”
Her shoulders stiffened with apprehension. Since Paul had announced he lived with his family, someone would have to vacate a room for her benefit. It made her uncomfortable. She sat down tentatively and fiddled with the straps of her shoulder bag on her lap.
“Should I put all the bags in your room?” Simon’s cheerful voice made her look up. He stood just under the archway leading to the hallway.
The question caused embarrassment to sting her cheeks with heat. If Simon had to ask that question, then he’d already assumed she was lovers with Paul. Yet, the question also set a flicker of hope within her heart. There was no other woman currently occupying Paul room. He didn’t have a wife living in this house. Nor in any other house. Slowly, she let out a breath of relief.
“No, put Ijay’s bag in the adjacent room,” Paul replied. “Please make sure it’s decent.”
“No worries.” Simon left with the bags.
All of a sudden, insecurity plagued her mind. Did Paul bring women regularly to his house? Did they share his bedroom during their stay? Bitterness rose in her throat with envy. She didn’t like the idea of other women coming to Paul’s house regularly.
However, she disliked the idea that Paul was putting her into a separate room from his even more.
“I’m really sorry to put you out like this,” she said out loud. “If I’d known it would be such a problem, I wouldn’t have imposed. I don’t want to cause any problems, really. Strangely for some reason, I thought you had a wife.”
Stunned, Paul’s brows lifted, his mouth opened and closed. He looked at her like she’d gone mad. “A wife? What made you think I had one?”
“Well, you mentioned your family and I thought--”
“You thought wrong! You think I had a wife and I was messing around with you. Is that what you think of me?”
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” Looking away shamefaced, she balled her hands on her laps. She really was making a mess of things already. And she’d only been in his house all of two minutes.
“You can’t just jump to conclusions about people,” he said in a low voice ringed with irritation.
“Says the man who assumed I was engaged to Frederick,” she retorted sarcastically as she turned back to glare at him. “You’ve got to tell me who Simon is and what you meant by family.”
Paul’s chest rose and fell in a frustrated sigh.
“Listen. That conversation will have to wait. I’m going to make sure everything is set up for you,” he said brusquely. “I won’t be long.” He turned and walked out of the room.
Ijay let out her own aggravated sigh. It seemed that for every step forward she took with Paul, she took another step backward. She really had to find a way of making sure he was more relaxed around her. Their constant arguments wouldn’t help her cause.
A few minutes later an older
dark-skinned woman walked in. She was dressed in a flowing guinea print boubou. She didn’t look like the woman in the picture on the wall. And she didn’t quite look old enough to be Paul’s mother. Perhaps an aunty? Ijay stood as was customary when an older person walked into a room.
“Good evening, ma,” she greeted the woman with a bright smile.
“Nno nwa m,” the woman replied smiling widely. Welcome, my daughter.
Ijay liked the woman instantly. Her smile was warm and genuine.
“Dalu. Thank you,” she replied.
She rarely spoke in Ibo language these days except occasionally with her father. So it didn’t roll of her tongue as easily as it used to. Somehow she wanted to connect with this woman on her level.
The woman looked really pleased that Ijay had replied in Ibo. “Well done. You speak Ibo well,” she carried on speaking in Ibo to her. “Sit down.” She gestured for Ijay to sit as she sat on the armchair adjacent to Ijay’s sofa.
“Not as fluently as I used to. I enjoy speaking it when I do,” Ijay replied again in Ibo when she’d sat back down.
“You do and that’s important.”
“Please, don’t be angry. Paul didn’t tell me about anyone here. Are you his mother?” Ijay asked. She didn’t think she should carry on chatting with this woman without at least finding out her relationship with Paul. Since the woman seemed chatty, it was as good an opportunity as ever.
“No. I’m not,” the woman replied, shaking her head sadly. “That’s his mother’s picture on the wall.”
She pointed to the photo Ijay had noticed earlier.
“Unfortunately she died when he was just a boy. I’m Simon’s mother. Simon is Paul’s half-brother through their father. Paul is such a good boy. God will keep blessing him. He took us in after his father died and I was left destitute.”
Everything suddenly made sense to Ijay after hearing Simon’s mother words. The woman sniffed and swiped her eyes.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Ijay replied suddenly unsure of what to do at the woman’s tears. Guilty pangs shot through her for asking the question that upset her.
“Don’t mind me. I get emotional when I retell the story.” Simon’s mother stood up. “When Paul comes down, tell him dinner will be ready shortly. I hope you like Nsala soup. It’s his favourite.”
As Simon’s mother turned to leave, Paul walked into the living room.
“Did someone mention Nsala soup? I’m suddenly very hungry.”
As if in response, Ijay’s stomach growled loudly in protest. For a moment, she cringed, wanting to hide under a rock. She clutched her stomach.
“Sorry,” she said with a weak smile, trying to hide her horror.
Paul and his step-mother exchanged amused glances and burst out laughing. Surprised she gave Paul a mock glare and smiled. She hadn’t been expecting Paul to be in a good mood after their heated discussion a few minutes previously. It seemed it was all forgotten. At least, for the moment.
“Aunty, you should hurry with the food before we die of hunger here,” Paul said and winked at Ijay mischievously.
“Yes, I’m off to dish out the food fast then,” Simon’s mother said and left the room.
“Come, let me show you your room before dinner,” Paul nodded toward the door.
Ijay stood and walked with him. She was glad he was back to being in a chirpy mood after her faux pas earlier. It was much better dealing with him when he was in a friendly mood rather than arguing with him all the time. She followed him up the light and airy stairwell. At the top, there was an open plan sitting area at one end and four doors leading to bedrooms, she guessed.
He opened one of the doors. “This is your room.” He waited by the door, not going in. “It isn’t the Park hotel but I hope it’s suitable.”
Ijay walked in. It was a tastefully decorated large room with an en-suite and walk-in closet. In the middle was a made-up bed with crisp clean cotton sheets and a red throw-over folded down the bottom. The room looked like a Mistress suite if not a Master suite.
“It’s more than I expected. Thank you,” she said breathlessly. She hadn’t been expecting him to go to all that trouble.
“I’ll leave you for a moment. Dinner will be ready soon, so don’t be long.”
“No worries. I’ll just clean up quickly and come downstairs.”
When Paul closed the door behind him, Ijay released a deep breath in relief. She was finally in Paul’s house. And what she’d learnt so far about him proved she’d made the right decision to stay here.
It also showed Paul was a deeply compassionate and caring man despite his hard exterior.
Only a person who had a huge capacity to love would open up his heart and home to others, the way Paul seemed to have done. He cared about his family and they cared about him in return.
There was hope for her and Paul yet.
Feeling elated, she washed her hands in the en-suite sink, checked her appearance in the full length mirror on the wall and left her room to find Paul.
***
When Ijay arrived downstairs, dinner turned out to be a cosy affair set just for two. Puzzled, she looked up at Paul who was already seated when she stepped into the dinner area adjoining the sitting room.
“Is it just the two of us eating?” she queried a little disheartened. She’d been hoping to get to chat with Simon and perhaps find out a little bit more about Paul and his relationship with his younger sibling.
“Yes,” he shrugged. “They seem to think you’re someone important to me. And they don’t want to ruin a private evening.”
“They? Didn’t you explain?”
“I tried. Simon claims he has a test to study for tomorrow. And his mum? Well...she claims she’d eaten anyway.” Paul shrugged dismissively.
“Is it just the two of them living here? Do you have any more family I’m yet to meet?”
“Simon and his mother live mainly in the guest annex, although I’ve given them free access to the rest of the house,” Paul said. “He’s studying Law at the University of Nigeria Enugu Campus, so living here is handy for him to get to school. His mother insists she wants to pay her way, so she works as housekeeper. Really, she’s more like an aunt than an employee. I love having both of them here.”
The tormented shadows glazed over his eyes for a moment. Her heart turned over with love. She reached out and covered his hand with hers. He glanced down at her hand and gave her a brief melancholic smile. Then he covered her hand with his other hand. His warmth seeped through her skin. She hoped she was giving him as much comfort as he gave her by holding onto her.
“Why didn’t you tell me about them before?” she asked gently.
She would’ve understood him better if she’d known all this about him. He was more than a hardnosed business man living a playboy lifestyle in Abuja. In Enugu, he was a responsible family man with dependants that he cared about. It was such a contrast. Yet that was Paul. An enigma.
The melancholic glaze departed from his eyes, replaced by a hard glint. He moved his hands away from hers, leaving her cold.
“Ijay, you seem to forget your place. You’re my brother’s fiancée. Shouldn’t you be asking him all these questions? Why didn’t he tell you he had half-brothers dotted across Nigeria,” he spat the words at her with such force, it felt like she’d been physically hit. He pushed the chair back, the scrap of wood against marble resounding in the dining room. Without another word he walked out of the room.
Chapter Seventeen
You’ve done it this time.
Ijay let out a resigned sigh as she clutched her head and squeezed in frustration. She’d allowed her enthusiasm to run away with her. The result was a bad case of foot-in-mouth syndrome.
And a very annoyed Paul.
As much as she wanted Paul to open up and talk to her, she realised it might take a lot longer than she’d like. In the mean time, she’d have to bite her tongue and learn some patience. A trait she wasn’t best at.
She looked at the dishes of food laid out on the table. It was her fault that Paul was not enjoying his meal. The aromatic scent of the food made her mouth water. It was unfair that he was missing out because of her.
She moved her chair back to stand up. Paul strode back into the room. Her pulse rate increased, her heart thudding n her chest.
Without saying anything he pulled his chair back and sat down again. She searched his face to figure out what mood he was in. His expression was unreadable.
She took a deep breath before speaking. “Paul, I’m sorry.”
He looked up. His black gaze connected with hers—intense and calculated, heated and in control. Gone was the warm and fuzzy Paul. Back was the man-in-charge-of-his-domain Paul. She knew instantly the game was up.
“Are you?” he said coldly, his eyebrow raised sardonically.
Reaching across the table he grabbed her hand. He caressed the back of her hand, the rough texture of his callused palm sensitising the back of her hand. Sensation speared through her body. She inhaled sharply, her stare fixated on Paul, her body alert and aware of the arc of tension between them.
“I don’t know what game you’re up to,” he said, his voice low and deep. “One minute you’re insisting you’re going to marry my brother. The next minute you tell me you care about me. One minute you don’t want to get personal. The next you want to stay in my house and ask me personal questions.”
He loomed closer, near enough for his breath to fan her cheek and neck. She inhaled his raw spice and cologne. Her skin flushed with feverish heat. She struggled to keep her body from trembling as her core melted.
“I’m trying very hard to not break a promise,” he continued his gravelly whisper, his intent unmistakable. “However if you carry on with this little game of yours, then I promise you’ll be screaming my name with pleasure so quickly. By the time I’m done, you won’t remember the name Vincent or your ridiculous engagement. Are we clear, sweet Ijay?”