Bound to Favor

by Kiru Taye

  She swallowed and stepped into the office, conscious that she wore her gym clothes. She hadn’t expected to see him or anyone else here today.

  “I came to pick up my laptop. I left it here last night as I went straight from work to the restaurant.”

  She dropped her sports bag in the corner, now wishing she’d showered and changed at the gym. She didn’t want to step close to him just in case she smelled from all the sweating during the workout.

  “Oh, I see,” he said, his gaze running over her body.

  Her body swung from mortification at the state she was in to arousal from his perusal.

  “I just came from the gym,” she said to explain her unkempt state.

  “I can see that.” He lowered his hands and waved one at the pile of files. “I was trying to get a hold of the report for the last quarter. I couldn’t find my electronic copy so I thought you’d have a paper version somewhere.”

  “Oh, I can get that for you.” Glad for something to do as a distraction, she took another step in and walked to the left side of her desk, hoping he would come out through the right side.

  She flipped though the files, checking the labels. Her skin prickled as he watched her. “You could have called. I would’ve sent you the electronic report.”

  “I didn’t want to disturb your weekend. Anyway, didn’t you just say you left your laptop in the office?”

  “True.” She pulled out the correct folder. “Here it is.”

  “Thank you.” He took the folder. “Since you’re here. I would like to discuss some things with you unless you have somewhere else to be.”

  “Nowhere, sir. But I have to get home and change.” She replied as she tidied up the files.

  “Do you have your change of clothes in the bag?” he said and flicked his gaze towards the corner near the entrance.

  “Yes.” She glanced at the holdall.

  “Use my office bathroom to shower and change. I’ll see you when you’re done.” He didn’t wait for her to respond before he walked through to his office.

  His professional mode had been reactivated, last night seemingly forgotten.

  While she would rather be anywhere else but near him today, her work remit involved being available outside regular hours if he needed her. He sometimes worked Saturdays, but she’d never caught him in the office out of the normal business hours.

  However, she shouldn’t underestimate him.

  Kamali Danladi had built a reputation for being fearless and calculating. Since he took over as CEO of Danladi Cements, he had ruthlessly acquired business after business in an aggressive expansion of their stakes in the African market. The target was to have Danladi Cement in every African country by the end of the decade. He was well close to reaching that goal. Their revenue and profits have grown year on year.

  Puffing out a breath, she picked up her bag and trudged through to the bathroom, passing Kamali who didn’t look up from where he read the reports.

  She shut the bathroom door and leaned against it, puffing out a long breath.

  Chapter Five

  Kamali made a point not to look up when Ebun entered his office on the way to the bathroom.

  He’d practically had to rush out of her office to hide his growing erection at the sight of her voluptuousness in body-clinging Lycra. While she’d leant over the desk in search of the file, his mind had conjured up images of her bent on the counter, her lush ass presented to him.

  He scrubbed a hand over his face and leaned back.

  It hadn’t been a good idea to invite her to shower here. Now, he heard the sound of running water and imagined her naked body with the clear liquid cascading down the toffee-coloured skin.

  He suppressed a groan, clenching his teeth.

  The woman was temptation-on-a-stick.

  Bad enough when she wore those damned pencil skirts that emphasised her divinely-bestowed hips that were made to drive a man to his knees.

  Now, she’d shown up in a body-hugging outfit that clung to every curve and begged for him to take her and pleasure her until she sang his name in ecstasy.

  Zaki!

  His grip tightened on the padded arms of his chair as he fought not to tumble into the forbidden allure that she presented. His throbbing dick needed some attention. He needed some attention.

  Five years.

  Five years since he’d indulged in the soft and smooth velvety touch of a woman. Long years since he’d plunged into the heat and slickness that would take him to temporary nirvana.

  Everyday he’d lived with the temptation, accepted it as his own personal torture, payment for his sins.

  Last night, something had snapped inside him. He’d come close to giving in to his craving after she’d invited him to her apartment. He’d wanted to use Ebun for his pleasure, and give her fun in the process too. He would have just been satisfying his craving momentarily.

  Using a woman for the sole purpose of pleasure would’ve been debasing.

  He abided by certain rules—rules grounded in his heritage. Some people considered his outlook to be traditional, even conservative. He would argue that he lived the best of two worlds—his culture and the modern world.

  He had two sisters and would never allow anyone to mistreat them. As such, he would never treat a woman in a demeaning manner. He believed in karma and retribution, and divine justice.

  Ebun was made to be adored, her body worshipped by the man who vowed to keep and protect her—her husband.

  As he had no intention of marrying her or any other woman, he had learned to control his libido.

  So here he sat, trying to shove the image of his near-naked assistant out of his mind while his ears listened for any sounds coming from the bathroom and in his mind he pictured walking in there and helping to wash her.

  He would lather his palms with soap and rub it all over her soft skin. Afterwards, he’d rinse off the suds, push her against the tiles, wrap her legs around his hips and bury he throbbing cock inside her while sucking her luscious breasts. Would they taste as sweet as she looked?

  Damn it! He slammed his palms on top of the desk.

  Ebun shouldn’t have worn the inappropriate gym kit to the office. They had a strict dress code. There was no such thing as a dress-down day at Danladi Cements.

  He should reprimand her for breaching her employment contract. And in his current lousy mood, he should consider sacking her for inappropriate attire in the workplace.

  That way he wouldn’t have to see her every day anymore. This constant yearning in his gut would stop.

  His chest tightened.

  Not see Ebun daily? Could he do it? He’d come to depend on her. Where would he find someone as good as her? And any new person would take a long time to get used to him.

  The business was at a critical time with the expansion and new projects in the pipeline. He needed Ebun by his side. He couldn’t sack her.

  He would let her inappropriate attire go unmentioned. It was a Saturday, and from her expression, she hadn’t been expecting to meet him or anyone else in the office.

  In any case, he wasn’t one of those men who believed that the responsibility to keep a man from temptation lay at the feet of the woman, thereby making a woman cover up from head to toes.

  Every man had the responsibility to control his lustful urges.

  Like Kamali fought to control his daily.

  Buzz. Buzz.

  His mobile phone danced on the wooden surface. The caller ID read Mama. He picked it up.

  He leaned into the soft black leather executive chair, tilting it into a reclined position and closed his eyes.

  He stretched his neck, and rubbed a spot under his shoulder blade, trying to ease the achy muscles. Taking a deep breath, he pressed the button to connect.

  “Uwa, sannu.” He kept his tone cheerful, glad for the distraction from his sensual musings.

  “Dana, you are in a pleasant mood today. Do you have some good news for me?” his mother replied.
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br />   Kamali's lips curled into a dry smile. Even at his age of forty-two, his mother still thought she could exercise control over him. Remarkably few people argued with her. Himself included.

  “Are you implying that I’m always in a foul mood?”

  “I never said that. Anyway, that’s not the reason I called. Did you hear that your cousin is getting married in Katsina soon? Your late Uncle Isa’s first son?”

  His back stiffened at where this question could lead. “Yes, I heard. Henry told me himself.”

  “Who is Henry?” his mother asked.

  “Henry is Uncle Isa’s son,” Kamali replied, twirling a fountain pen around the table with his index finger.

  “You mean Omar.”

  “Yes. But he’s known as Henry Coker down here in Lagos.”

  “Of course. I forgot that he changed his name when he left Katsina.” She paused as if thinking. “But I didn’t know the two of you were in touch.”

  “Only recently.” He squeezed his eyes shut and let out a heavy breath as he remembered his conversation with Henry yesterday. He regretted that he hadn’t stood by his cousin through his troubles. “Musa connected us and yesterday we met for a business meeting. Afterwards, he invited me to his engagement party.”

  “That’s great. How did the meeting go?”

  His mother was fishing for gossip, but he rarely ever discussed business dealings with her. He wasn’t about to explain this one.

  “The meeting went well, and hopefully we can work together in the future.”

  “That’s good to know. Anyway, about his wedding. Aisha called me this morning. She’s in charge of organising the event in Katsina. And she asked me to host the bride-to-be and her contingent.”

  Aisha was Musa’s wife. While he could understand her being in charge of the occasion, he didn’t realize what it had to do with his mother. “What do you mean by ‘host the bride’?”

  He could almost see his mother shake her head at him. “She is going to stay in our house in preparation for the wedding.”

  “Is there a reason she can’t stay in a hotel with her family?” he asked the obvious. He didn’t have any objections, just curiosity.

  “I heard that her parents are dead and she’s not that close to other members of her extended family. It won’t be nice for her to be in a hotel room all by herself. So I volunteered to be a surrogate and our house can be her home during the event.”

  “I guess that makes sense,” he said, and considering the outcome of the meeting he’d had with Henry, his mother’s benevolence would help to cement his relationship with his cousin.

  “Of course it does. It will be part of our contribution to the event and improve our position in the Danladi clan.”

  Kamali smiled. His mother might not be a business woman, but she remained an astute strategist. She had worked and manoeuvred their branch of the Danladi clan back to prominence after their status was devastated when his father converted to Christianity, effectively disqualifying himself from the Emir title and moving their position from the next in line to the bottom of the pile.

  “Sounds good. Was there something else?” He knew his mother all too well. She was up to something he probably wouldn’t like and cloaking it in wedding talk.

  “What date are you coming home for the wedding? It’ll be good if you can be here a few days before the festivities.”

  “I’m not sure. I have quite a few things to deal with right now. I should know closer to the date.”

  “Can you arrange a few days off then. Laila Abubakar is coming over to help out with the preparations. She recently graduated with a Masters degree from London. She’s at the perfect age for you—not too young and not too old either. There’s still time for her to give you more babies—”

  “Mother, I’m going to stop you right there.” Kamali couldn’t suppress the groan that escaped his lips, his grip tightening on the phone handset. “You have to stop matching me with every single woman that comes along. I don’t need a wife. Been there. Done that.”

  “Dana, it’s been five years. Well past any traditional mourning period. It’s time to move on. Please.” This time his mother’s voice was sombre, heavy with the implications of grief.

  Kamali clenched his jaw and swivelled in his chair, his gaze now fixed on the Lagos skyline visible through the floor-to-ceiling glass window. Towers of office buildings including the spires of a grand church building stretched before him. The orange glow of the midday sunshine beamed down on the traffic going about their business.

  The scenery made little impact on him as he processed his mother’s words. She was right; five years was a long time. In that time so much had happened.

  Yet the pain hadn’t dulled for him. Every day he put on a cloak of composure which hid the cancer festering inside him.

  He wasn’t ready to move on. Not in the way his mother expected him to. Not by a long shot.

  “Mother, can we not talk about this now?” he spoke quietly into the phone, his earlier nonchalance departed.

  This was one topic he never discussed.

  Once upon a time, he’d met a girl, fallen in love, gotten married and they’d had a beautiful daughter. Then five years ago his world had imploded.

  The back of his throat hurt, and he struggled to swallow.

  “There’s no better time than now to discuss this. We haven’t spoken about it for a long time simply because I wanted to give you time to grieve, to heal and to move on. I think five years is ample time, don’t you?” his mother’s tone was relaxed but never lost its persistent edge.

  Kamali heaved a sigh, his shoulders lifting and dropping heavily. “I know you think it’s a long enough time. But Fari is still young, and the two of us are doing just great.”

  They were doing great together without anyone else. He wanted it to stay that way.

  “How do you know Fari is doing great about this? Have you asked her what she wants? She’s at the stage when it’s important to have a mother figure in her life.”

  His mother’s mention of Fari annoyed Kamali. “Mother, I don’t need to ask Fari to know how she feels. She’s my daughter, and I do what’s best for her.”

  An image of Fari running around on the beach came into his mind. She looked so happy, screeching with laughter every time a rolling wave of surf crept up the white sands. His lips widened in a smile. Fari was his joy. No matter what his mother said, he knew his relationship with his daughter was great.

  Fari had asked him once if she was going to have another mother. He had explained to her that her mother was now an angel watching over her. Fari had been eight years old then, and the idea of an angel mother had been a cool concept. Now she was twelve, and he wasn’t so sure anymore.

  He shook his head, seeking to wipe any doubts from his mind. His life was perfect as it was. He didn’t need another woman.

  Pushing his chair back on the roller wheels, he stood. “I really have no wish to continue this conversation. I’ll let you know when I’ll be coming to Katsina.”

  “Okay, I’ll expect your call. Bye, son,” she sounded disappointed.

  His anger stopped him from trying to appease her.

  “Bye, Mother.” He waited for her to disconnect the line before he put the phone down.

  His mother just didn’t understand that he didn’t need another woman.

  Being married once was enough for a lifetime.

  She would keep meddling, and keep trying to match him to a suitable female. It always happened at the family gatherings when he had to be up in Katsina.

  It proved easier to have a potential bride hanging around their house while other relatives were around than trying to get him to commit to a one-to-one ‘date.’

  That way any interactions they had would be chaperoned and the behaviour of the lady could be observed by her potential in-laws as well as the potential groom.

  Of course, he never paid any attention to the women while they were visiting, to his mother’s frustration
. Then she’d nag him about it, to his annoyance.

  This time around he could choose not to attend Henry’s wedding. That wouldn’t bode well for their business deal. Henry would take it as an insult. Kamali would if he were in Henry’s shoes.

  He needed to find a way of avoiding his mother’s machinations. However, short of presenting a fiancée to his mother how could he?

  A fiancée? He hadn’t dated anyone since Toyin. He’d thrown himself into work instead, expending his energy in expanding the business.

  What he needed was someone to pose as his fiancée as he had no intention of getting married. He would pay the person, just as if they were doing a job, which it would be—a temporary job.

  As a man who had vast resources and could make things happen in the business world, his personal life was more than lacking. He couldn’t think of any women who would be available for the position. He could hardly advertise for the position through the normal HR recruitment channels.

  He could just imagine the scandal that would erupt if it got out that he was advertising for a pretend bride-to-be.

  He rubbed his temple, trying to push back the impending headache. His mother certainly knew how to ruin his day.

  Now he was worried about finding a fake fiancée instead of focusing on his business.

  “Are you free now to go over the reports you requested?”

  At the sound of the soft voice, Kamali swivelled around to face his desk. Ebun stood in front of it, wearing a purple and pink print wraparound blouse with three quarter sleeves and a V-neckline that dipped low enough to show off her bountiful assets. The sash was tied in a bow just to the left and dangled over black Capri trousers that stopped mid-calf showing off lovely ankles. On her feet were black ballet pumps.

  His breath caught in his throat. Even when she was in casual clothes, she still took his breath away. Compelled, he stared at her.

  At work, she always dressed in skirts suits. Today had been the first time he’d seen her in trousers. First, the body hugging yoga pants and now these fitted Capri that stretched over wide hips.

  She’d pulled her shoulder-length curly brown hair off her face and held with a band to keep it in place. Very little makeup—lip gloss that drew attention to her lush lip and mascara that emphasised her almond-shaped eyes and long dark lashes—enhanced her facial features.