He felt much more excited driving her home than she felt following him to his house for the first time.
He wasn’t behaving like the Kenechukwu she’d known as her boss anymore. He was becoming more playful.
She was trying not to show that she liked him. The fragile Mmayen who shied away from looking into her boss’ eyes would probably have fainted at his first touch.
As soon as he arrived his exclusive duplex, the security man checked through a hole on the gate and rushed to open it.
“Welcome Oga,” he hailed excitedly.
“Simon how was your day?” Kenechukwu asked.
“Oga today no too bad,” he said as he opened the gate.
“At least, e no bad finish,” Kenechukwu replied.
He drove into his large compound. His security man Simon was surprised to see that his boss Kenechukwu had a girl in his car. He’d worked with him for years and he’d never seen Kenechukwu with any woman before.
Mmayen was still seated when Kenechukwu alighted. Simon rushed to the car and took his briefcase from the back seat.
“Good evening madam,” Simon greeted Mmayen.
“Good evening,” Mmayen replied tiredly.
When Kenechukwu noticed she was still in the car, he walked to her side, and stared at her face for a few moments before he asked, “What are you afraid of?”
“Nothing. I am not comfortable…”
“I won’t harm you, I will just kiss your lips, I will sure do that. You will let me kiss you,” he said authoritatively.
When she started to protest, he put a finger against her lips.
“What are you afraid of?” he asked again.
Mmayen took a deep breath. Kenechukwu looked as though he was prepared to wait on her until she was ready to get out of the car.
“You want me to tell you the truth? The honest truth?” she asked. He nodded, a strange look in his eyes.
“I am afraid if we make love, I’m going to fall in love with you,” she confessed.
He smiled at her. It was a soft smile. It took several minutes before he could speak.
“It won’t be bad making love to you, even though I wasn’t planning on that, but if it happens, then we can just do it. Would that be so bad?”
“For me, it would.”
“It isn’t bad for me.”
“Sir, I don’t believe we’re discussing this, we barely know each other.”
“Mmayen darling, I need to have a shower, eat and then sip wine before going to bed,” he said and walked away, leaving her in the car.
She stepped out of the car, and as she was about opening the door, Simon, who was still waiting by the car opened it from outside.
“Please show me the guest room,” Mmayen said simply.
“Okay madam, follow me,” he said, as he led her into the house.
Mmayen couldn’t stop admiring everywhere. She liked the couches. The wallpapers and the largeness of the TV screen. She loved the smell of the peach and vanilla scented candle that took over the sitting room and the corridor that led to the guest room.
“Here madam,” Simon said, as he walked away. A stout man who had hefty shoulders like a weightlifter.
Mmayen looked at him as he walked away. She sighed and walked around the bedroom, admiring the brick wall paper and the flowery bedsheets.
A knock came softly on the door. “Yes?” she said. Kenechukwu walked in with a sky-blue T-shirt, a towel and a bag of toiletries piled up in his arms.
“For you,” he said as he placed them on the bed.
“Thank You,” she said shyly.
“When you’re done bathing, you come to the dining table. Simon is warming dinner,” he said.
“That guy cooks?” she asked.
“No, I cook, while he warms them. Nobody cooks for me. I cook on Saturdays,” he said.
“That’s fine,” she said shyly.
“I will leave you to have your shower,” he said and walked away, leaving the fresh scent of Tangerine and Brut perfume in the air.
Mmayen took the shirt on the bed, inhaled it and exhaled calmly. It smelt like tangerine, nicely scented. She rushed into the bathroom, had her bath, got dressed in the shirt and walked slowly to the dining table. She perceived the aroma of spaghetti bolognese and peppered chicken. But when she got to the dining table, it was snail sauce and boiled yam she saw. A bottle of white wine on the centre of the table and a glass of water by each dished meal.
“Something smells nice.”
“Oh well,” Kenechukwu retorted.
She pulled the chair and sat comfortably; took the cutleries and felt the weightiness of them. The type of fork and spoon her aunty Maria usually brought from America every summer holiday.
Next Chapter: |Chapter 4|
|Chapter 1||Chapter 2||Chapter 3||Chapter 4||Chapter 5||Chapter 6||Chapter 7||Chapter 8||Chapter 9||Chapter 10||Chapter 11||Chapter 12||Chapter 13||Chapter 14||Chapter 15||Chapter 16||Chapter 17||Chapter 18||Chapter 19||Chapter 20||Chapter 21||Chapter 22|