by Kiru Taye
The day after that the Kamun and Kai Amariya which will have the groom’s family come and negotiate for the release of the bride and finally the bride’s friends and family escorting her to the groom’s family where a grand reception will be held.
Ebun spent the night with Kamali in her bed. They didn’t make love.
When she woke the next morning, he was gone like the day before. She sat in bed thinking about how intoxicated she had become with him. The attention he gave and his consideration even when they were in private, astounded her.
He was the epitome of a future husband, totally swoon-worthy. The way he watched her as if he couldn’t keep his eyes away from her. Sometimes she forgot that it was all an act.
The fact that he continued in the same manner when they were in private was what added to her confusion. He didn’t have to pretend when it was just the two of them.
If she didn’t know better she would think that he was in love with her.
After showering and getting dressed, she joined the rest of the family downstairs. Breakfast was lively and soon afterwards, the house filled with Danladi women—wives and siblings.
Ebun was introduced to all of them but she only remembered a few—Aisha, because she was the Emir’s wife. Faiza and Amina fascinated her as dual wives to Jibril who was Henry’s brother.
Later they sat in the gazebo and under the canopies set up in the back garden, being pampered.
“Would you like a pedicure?” one of the beauticians asked.
“Yes, please.” Ebun sat in an armchair, sipping ice tea.
The woman brought her equipment and a low stool and started clipping Ebun’s toenails.
All around her in the large gazebo women chatted as they were pampered by beauty therapists or servants. Most of their conversations were in Hausa so Ebun didn’t understand.
She ignored the buzz and recalled the evening she’d spent with Kamali in there and a smile tilted her mouth as a sizzle went down her spine. She’d sat astride of him on the loveseat as they rocked back and forth and ground against each other while trying to keep the sounds of their lovemaking as low as possible so they wouldn’t be discovered.
“Mind if I join you,” Gloria said as she pulled her chair closer.
“Not at all,” Ebun smiled at her, moving her items on the small table to make space for Gloria’s phone.
Another beautician plonked down in front of the bride-to-be with her bowl.
“I haven’t had time to congratulate you properly since I arrived,” Gloria said.
“Oh, it’s okay. You’ve had your hands full,” Ebun said, a little unease souring her mouth that Gloria would join the list of people who thought she was unsuitable for Kamali.
“I’m so pleased the two of you are together. I thought you made a beautiful couple when I met you at the engagement party.”
“Really?” Shocked, Ebun twisted in her seat to look at her properly. Was she crazy?
“Yes. From the party it was obvious he was in love with you. The way his gaze followed you around the room. He couldn’t keep his eyes off you.”
Ebun wanted to protest, to deny that Kamali was in love with her. At the time of the party, they had been colleagues. They were still colleagues, except they were colleagues-with-benefits at the moment, enjoying an interlude before they got back to the real world.
Something Kamali said popped into her head.
"Ebunoluwa, I notice you every goddamned day."
Could it be...?
She let the thought trail off, not wanting to examine the implications too closely. Not wanting to get obsessed and read meaning where there were none.
She’d made that mistake several times in the past and had been stung. She needed to learn not to get too engrossed in people.
This thing with Kamali was only temporary. Even if he cared about her, his family had someone else lined up for him.
“And I think you’re handling the whole situation with dignity,” Gloria continued.
Ebun glanced at her again. “What do you mean?”
“You know.” The other woman tilted her head to where Laila sat with Yasmin and continued, “I heard that they want Kamali to marry her as well. I’m so glad Henry isn’t a practicing Muslim. I wouldn’t be so calm if anyone was shoving a second wife at Henry. I would be going gangster bitch on the person.”
“Oh, that,” she tried to keep her voice even. “Trust me. I’m not calm about that. But there’s nothing I can do about it.”
She couldn’t mention that Kamali wouldn’t be marrying her. So there would be no problem of a polygamous marriage, which was allowed in this part of Nigeria.
“Well, you are a much better woman than I am.” Gloria leaned closer to her. “How they don’t see that Kamali is besotted with you, I don’t know.”
Ebun’s cheeks heated. “You keep saying that but you seem to be the only one who sees it.”
Gloria frowned. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”
Ebun realised she’d said too much and backtracked. “Don’t mind me. I’m letting everything get to me. Kamali is a wonderful man. I couldn’t have wished for a better fiancé.”
Not to mention that she’d been in love with him for so long, even if she hadn’t wanted to admit it openly.
“I heard Laila complaining that Kamali was giving you more attention,” Gloria said.
Before Ebun could reply, Yasmin called out from where she sat getting her hand manicured. “Ebun, are you going to stop working for Kamali when you two get married?”
Everyone in the gazebo turned to stare at Ebun, waiting for her response. She could see the judgment in their gazes. They probably saw her as a gold-digger who had screwed her way up the corporate ladder and had now landed the biggest fish in the pond.
Her mouth dried out and she glanced at Gloria who smiled at her. She remembered what Gloria had said about going gangster bitch and the response came to her.
“I’m going to keep working at DC after we get married. I’m not about to leave my Mali for some gold-digger. The only person he’ll be sleeping with in that office will be me.”
Some people gasped.
Gloria covered her mouth with her hand but couldn’t hide her laughter. Soon it became louder and some of the other women started laughing too.
“Well done,” Gloria said and patted her hand. “I couldn’t have said it better myself.”
Some of the other women smiled at her including Mrs. Danladi senior whose eyes seemed to spark with approval.
Ebun blew out a relieved sigh.
Chapter Nineteen
Three days later Ebun was on her way back to her apartment in Lagos.
Kamali was in a conversation on his phone, sitting inches from her in the back seat. He had instructed the chauffeur to drive to her apartment on Victoria Island.
He was back to being a business man. But he hadn’t said anything to her after they got into the vehicle.
Not that she was feeling talkative either. She had withdrawn into her mind the minute they’d boarded the flight to Lagos. The closer they got to their destination, the more she sank into the memories of her time in Katsina. Her times with Kamali.
She played back every moment of their conversations, and their lovemaking.
Kamali dressed majestically in a flowing blue jalabia with royal blue and gold embroidery running around the stiff collar and down the front and also around the cuffs for the wedding. Her breath had caught in her throat. He’d looked stunning.
There was no doubt in her mind that she had fallen in love with the man.
The sizzling attraction had morphed into something deeper as she’d seen him as more than just a business man.
A family man who cared about the people around him.
A man who protected and defended her when others wanted to put her down.
How could she not love him?
But he didn’t love her, no matter what Gloria had thought.
Now the fairy tal
e was over. How would she cope with seeing him daily in the office? Could they revert back to being CEO and Exec Assistant without any repercussion?
Silence hung in the air like a dark cloud after Kamali’s phone calls.
Boulders sat in her stomach when she recognised the main road leading up to her street. In less than five minutes she would be out of the car and their romantic interlude would truly be over.
She wanted to tell him how she felt. Want to ask him if there was a chance that he felt something for her.
That she didn’t mind carrying on their affair, even if secretive.
That he didn’t have to marry her.
She just didn’t want their relationship to end.
Then she remembered.
They hadn’t had a relationship.
They had been pretending all the while.
No, he had been pretending.
Her feelings for him were real and had always been real.
She just hadn’t admitted it to herself.
The car pulled into the parking lot of her apartment building and stopped at an empty space.
The boulders in her stomach seemed to weigh her down. She didn’t want to move even when the bodyguard got out and opened her door.
She turned to Kamali at the same time he turned to her. Heart racing, she didn’t say anything, hoping that he would say sometime.
Tell her not to go.
He didn’t. His expression was shuttered and unreadable as if he’d already distanced himself.
She swallowed.
Surely, if he felt something, he would say it. He wouldn’t let her just walk away.
In the end, she sucked in a deep breath, puffed it out and said quietly. “Thank you for a lovely week.”
In honesty, it was a banal statement. She’d had the best week of her life. But she couldn’t tell him that because that would make her pathetic, and make her appear clingy when it already looked like he had moved on.
“No. Thank you,” he said. “I’ll see you on Tuesday in the office.”
A knot wedged in her throat. She nodded and stepped out into the low evening light. Yakubu had already brought out her suitcase.
She grabbed the handle, muttered ‘thank you’ to the man and dragged it towards the entrance to her building.
The urge to turn around gripped her. But she stiffened her spine and held her head up, her low heels clicking on the paving slabs.
The car engine growled, coming to life. Rubber tyres rolled on the paving as it turned around to return towards the gates.
She still didn’t turn around until she inserted the key into the lock for the communal door and heard the click. Then, she couldn’t help one last glance at the departing vehicle.
It really was over.
Thankfully, the ride up to her apartment was without company. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back onto the metal enclosure.
Kamali’s aftershave floated in the air as if he stood right next to her. She pictured him standing there, leaning so close she could almost taste the saltiness of his skin.
She had tasted him last night, the mix of salty and tangy and maleness that was all Kamali, when she had gone down on him.
He’d come to her bedroom like he’d done most of the nights they’d been in Katsina. As usual he wore his evening jalabia, a grey silk caftan that reached his ankles and just boxers underneath.
He’d kissed her as soon as she’d let him in and backed her up to the bed until her calves hit wood.
Then, she’d swivelled around and pushed him onto the bed. “It’s our last night together, so I have a gift for you.”
“What is it?” His dark eyes gleamed in the low light of the side lamp.
“Take your clothes off and I’ll show you.”
He hadn’t hesitated and he’d practically torn his clothes off and tossed them on the floor before lying back on the mattress. The dense, bulbous head of his erect cock bobbed against his bellybutton just as whorls of dark hair tapered to his groin.
She’d climbed on him and slid her warm, wet mouth over his erection. With her tongue she’d lapped up and down the thick pillar which stretched her lips and felt heavy.
Slowly she’d worked him, bobbing her head over him.
His grunts of pleasure had filled the air, escalating her excitement. She dreamt of doing this to him, once or twice, dreamt of making him come apart with her mouth and the aid of her hands only.
She fisted the root of the shaft and pumped just as she fluttered her tongue over the rim.
His groans became louder, desperate, just as the muscles on his stomach rippled. “Ebun, don’t. I’m going to...”
He tugged at her head, trying to pull her off him.
She looked up at him and shook her head.
With a groan, he flopped back on the bed and let her carry on.
She pushed down over him and relaxed her throat muscles.
He held her head, flexed his hips and pumped upward, his movements frantic. Soon his seed filled her mouth as he cried out, “Ebun,” in a hoarse voice.
She couldn’t swallow the sheer volume of cum as he overwhelmed her with his essence.
Fingers caressing her skin, he raised her off his spent shaft, while a sated smile lit his face. “Give me a minute to catch my breath and I’m going to repay the favour.”
“Take your time.” She winked as warmth spread through her. She gloried in the fact that she’d blown him.
Afterwards, she grabbed a small towel from the bathroom, wet it with warm water and used it to clean him up.
That night had been the best of all their nights together. Perhaps because they’d known it would also be their last.
She let out another sigh when the lift pinged and she took the short walk to her apartment door. She opened the lock, shoved the slab and dragged her bag in just as her buzzer went off.
“Oh, what now?” she griped, thinking it was probably someone for one of her neighbours. She wasn’t expecting anyone since she’d been away for the week.
She let her door slam shut behind her and left her luggage sitting against the wall as she glanced around.
The place felt quiet and empty considering the busy festive environment she’d been in for the past week.
The buzzer went off again. It seemed very loud in the quietness of her apartment and irritated her.
She swivelled, yanked the receiver from the wall bracket and pressed to speak. “What is it?”
“Ebun, let me in.”
Her heart leapt into her mouth.
“Kamali?” She was almost afraid to ask in case she had imagined the deep, sexy voice.
“Yes.”
“I thought you’d left.”
“I thought so too. But I’m back. Let me in, will you?”
“Of course.”
She pressed the button to open the front entrance and put the receiver down.
Her heart raced. Her hands shook.
Kamali was in her building, in the elevator bound for her floor.
What did this mean? Did he want more sex? She wouldn’t object.
Did he want a real relationship?
One that didn’t involve pretending.
One where true feelings would be bared.
One where there was potential to hurt and be hurt.
One where there was potential to love and be loved.
Oh Lord. Her heart raced fast enough to make her lightheaded.
She leaned against the wall and forced air into her lungs by breathing slowly between counts. She didn’t want to hyperventilate or faint before he got here.
A light knock at her apartment door had her jerking upright.
Kamali stood at the other side of the wooden slab. If she let him in, everything would change. She was certain of it.
How was she going to cope when he abandoned her like her father had done?
Chapter Twenty
Don’t look back.
Someone should’ve warned Kamali of the impact
of looking back at the end of a relationship.
Not that what they’d enjoyed the past week could be classified as a relationship.
It hadn’t been a one-night stand since it had endured for a few days.
An affair, a fling, a liaison. Call it what you might.
It was supposed to be over. They’d agreed at the start. A string that would be cut once their stay in Katsina came to an end, which it did this afternoon once they’d boarded the flight home.
However, here he was, stepping out of the lift in Ebun’s building and striding to her door.
If only he hadn’t glanced back when the car had begun its journey back to the gates once they’d dropped her off.
Through the drive from the airport he’d been distracted with phone calls, all of them about business, one of the downsides of taking a week off.
He’d been mostly offline for the past week, having handed over to the Director of Finance in his absence. He’d checked his messaging service and returned any urgent messages.
When he’d ended the calls, he’d realised they were near her building and he became more unsettled about dropping her off and not interacting with again on an intimate level.
She didn’t do families. And his family hadn’t exactly been charming and welcoming to her.
He didn’t want to get married again, although that resolve had firmly being eroded by his family.
Aside from his mother’s machinations, he’d had an unsettling conversation with his cousin, Musa, who had hinted that Kamali needed to remarry as soon as possible in order to set a good example to the younger Danladi men and to maintain his good standing.
Kamali remarrying had become inevitable. His family already had a choice of wife and one who could prove to be a strategic union for him and his future in business as well as personally.
But Laila didn’t incite any Grande passion within him.
Not the way Ebun did.
Ebun didn’t want to get entangled in the crazy life that was his family. Laila did.
When they’d arrived at Ebun’s block, he’d kept his face neutral, not wanting her to see the tumult of emotions on his mind. He’d bid her goodbye in as calm a tone as he could muster.
He’d kept his gaze averted but had listened to the click of her heels as she’d sashayed away until they were drowned by the rumble of the car engine.
