Keeping Secrets (The Essien Trilogy, #1)

by Kiru Taye

  Keeping Secrets

  The Essien Trilogy Book 1

  By

  Kiru Taye

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and

  incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are

  used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any

  resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or

  persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Keeping Secrets

  Smashwords Edition

  Copyright© 2014 Kiru Taye

  Editor: Zee Monodee

  Cover Artist: Love Bites and Silk

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be used

  or reproduced electronically or in print without written

  permission, except in the case of brief quotations

  embodied in reviews.

  KT Press

  www.kirutaye.com

  Blurb

  Have you ever loved someone and didn’t even know it?

  That’s the dilemma facing Felix Essien when he wakes from a coma to find he is married to the most beautiful and sensual woman he’s ever known. He cannot remember her or their wedding; he who had sworn never to get married or to give his heart to another. Yet, he feels an intense bond with her that he intends to explore fully.

  Ebony can’t believe her good fortune when her paper husband wakes not remembering the temporary marriage arrangement with no intimacies he’d proposed, and is now the adoring husband she’s always dreamt of.

  She plans to make the most of the passion blossoming between them. However, would he still feel that way when he regains his memory and realises she’s been keeping secrets and their marriage is not what he thinks it is?

  Dedication

  To Elsie, you reminded me that ectopic pregnancy is a 21st century killer scourge in Nigeria. This story is dedicated to you, my best friend. May you continue to rest in peace until we meet again.

  I miss you.

  Acknowledgements

  I want to acknowledge all the wonderful people without whom this story would not have been written or published.

  To God, thank you for giving me the talent to do what I love.

  To my lovely husband, you are the best.

  To my wonderful children who understand when mummy needs to do some work, and behave.

  To my lovely supportive family who mind the kids and give me some much needed uninterrupted writing time.

  To my wonderful critique group, thank you for your continuing support.

  To my beta readers, thank you for keeping me on my toes.

  To my editor, Zee, thank you for believing in this story and for helping me work out the kinks.

  To everyone else who reads my stories and can't wait for the next book, you all inspire me.

  I love you all!

  Chapter One

  “Mrs. Essien, your husband is out of his coma.”

  Phone pressed against one ear, the other hand reaching for the remote control, Ebony bolted upright. Her hand shook as she fumbled to mute the television news channel she’d been watching. The discarded controller clanked onto the clear, glass-topped side table.

  “D...did I hear you correctly? Felix is awake?” She couldn’t hide the tremor in her voice, nor relax her tight-knuckled grip on the overstuffed arm of the upholstered cream sofa. Disbelief warred with hope, trampling all over her troubled mind.

  “Yes, madam,” the nurse said at the other end of the line.

  Breath rushed out of her lungs. The living room turned blurry. She lowered her lashes and slumped backwards, the velvet cushions a haven of soft comfort. A tear seeped from the corner of her eye and rolled down her cheek. She didn’t bother to wipe it. This didn’t represent sadness. No. This spelt relief—pure and simple—at prayers answered. At last.

  “Hello? Are you still there?”

  Eyes flickering open, she took in the bare cream walls of the living room and her gaze landed on the pile of framed wedding photographs in the far corner, overshadowed by a dark wood sculpture of a couple cinched in passion.

  Since she’d taken delivery of the photos, she hadn’t been able to bring herself to put them up.

  “I’m still here.” She swiped another tear with the back of her hand and cleared her throat.

  “How is he? When did he wake up?” The words rushed from her lips, relief now overtaken by excitement.

  Soft laughter filtered through the phone. “Take it easy, madam.”

  Ebony grimaced. The respectful term for a woman only made her feel ancient; she’d prevented her household employees from using it to address her. But she didn’t tell the nurse on the phone.

  “Sorry,” she said instead as she curled her lips with joy for the first time in weeks. She could forgive the woman who delivered such delightful news.

  “No need to apologise. I understand, Madam,” the nurse continued in a cheerful voice. “Your husband woke a few minutes ago. The doctor is with him now and he seems okay, considering his condition. There is a request on his note to contact you as soon as he wakes up. This is the reason for my call.”

  “Thank you so much, Nurse. I’ll come to the hospital straight away.” Ebony ended the call and sprang to her feet, ready to race to the bedroom to change.

  Bad move. Her head swam, making her nauseated by the sudden movement, her stomach heaving like a turbulent sea.

  Sinking back into the sofa, she breathed through the queasiness, head tilted slightly forward on her hands.

  Oh, Lord. I hope I haven’t picked up a stomach bug.

  It’ll teach her to buy street food. Last night, she’d craved Kilishi so much, she had to stop on the way home from hospital to pick up the beef jerky-style food cured and seeped in spices.

  The omelette and toast she’d had for breakfast hadn’t stayed down, to the dismay of the housekeeper. The poor girl had looked appalled at the notion she may have poisoned her mistress. Hence the reason Ebony had been sitting in the living room when her phone rang, instead of being already at the hospital, her usual routine.

  Perhaps, the stress of the past few weeks finally caught up with her. Long days and even longer nights, staying up worried about Felix.

  Her chin dipped into her chest and her shoulders slumped as a wave of guilt hit her.

  I should’ve been there when he woke up. He should’ve seen me first. Not the nurse or doctor. Me, his wife. Today of all days, too. Is it fate that he woke on Valentine’s Day?

  “Aunty, are you okay?”

  Ebony exhaled a sigh and lifted her head. The word ‘aunty’ gave her familial closeness to the addresser, a sense of not being alone in this mansion or dealing with faceless employees, but rather engaging with a member of the family.

  Bisi, the housekeeper, stood beside her sofa twisting her hands, her anxiety plastered on her round face, her outfit—a blue check dress, white pinafore, and white sandals—creaseless and stainless, her hair plaited in neat straight cornrows, pulled into a bun at the back. The twenty-year old girl always took pride in her appearance. Living in meant Bisi became part of their household, which made her family.

  Ebony curled her lips into a reassuring smile. “I’m more than okay. Stop worrying.”

  She stood carefully and this time, the world stayed the right way up.

  “Just tell Kola that I’ll be ready to go the hospital in thirty minutes.”

  “Yes, Aunty.” The girl nodded. “I’ve packed the bag ready for you. Do you want me to skip class tonight, in case you need me?”

  “No. There’s no need for you to miss your lesson.”

  Ebony paid for Bisi to study Home
Economics at their local college, with emphasis on Cookery after she discovered the girl’s interest in food and flavours. She should tell her Felix woke up. But after waiting so long to get some good news, she wanted confirmation with her own two eyes before announcing it to the rest of the household staff.

  “Thank you for packing the bag.”

  She patted the housekeeper on the shoulder and headed upstairs, bare feet slapping on cold marble. Crockery tinkled behind her as Bisi cleared up the teacup and saucer from the side table.

  On the threshold of the master bedroom, she halted, taking in the space before her. The cream walls and dark wood effect reached here, too. The heavy mahogany frame of the massive bed and headboard has been specially ordered, the design bespoke. She remembered asking for the measurements for the mattress before she ordered luxurious Egyptian cotton sheets.

  That had been before disaster struck. Neither one of them had slept in the bed since it arrived.

  Blinking back tears, she crossed the floor, her toes curling into the velvety, beige shag-pile rug covering the hard slate.

  She walked into the clothes closet and sucked in a sharp breath. Seeing the rows of Felix’s shirts and suits always triggered unhappiness. Today, she should be jumping for joy. Yet, her chest tightened and the back of her throat hurt.

  “This isn’t how we planned it, Felix....” Her voice croaked.

  She clutched his white shirt, inhaled deeply, and sobbed. Body racking, her legs gave way. She crumpled to the floor, the metal hook from the hanger clattering as it hit hard slate.

  Could it be possible to feel intense joy and sadness all at the same time? One minute she wanted to sing her joy with a microphone. The next, she wished she could crawl into a cave a hide.

  Worse, she couldn’t shake the boulder of guilt weighing down her body. This was all her fault. She’d doomed her marriage right from the start. How else could she explain that she wore a wedding band, had a marriage certificate to boot, but had never felt the warm arms of her husband around her?

  “Aunty, Oga Kola is ready for you.” Bisi’s voice sounded close.

  Did I leave the bedroom door open?

  Standing, Ebony took one last sniff of Felix’s shirt before tossing it into the laundry basket. Though it had the crisp smell of detergent, it reminded her of the man before the accident.

  “I’ll be down in five,” she said and entered the adjoining bathroom, keeping her face averted so the girl couldn’t see her from the entrance. She listened to the receding footsteps as Bisi departed.

  At the sink, she stared at her face in the mirror. Her exhaustion showed, twin dark shadows beneath eyes red from lack of sleep and crying.

  Cool water from the tap calmed the puffy eyes. A couple of eye drops brightened the whites, and dabs of concealer hid her sullen skin. She applied some lip-gloss and brushed out her hair, letting the tresses hang loose. It helped to cover up her fatigue.

  Just like she got good at covering up everything else. She couldn’t reveal that all wasn’t well in paradise.

  She slipped on her shoes, grabbed her bag, and headed out to see her husband.

  “Mr. Essien, you are in the Worthington Hospital in Lagos. You were in a car accident and suffered several injuries, including a head trauma, resulting in you falling into a coma,” the doctor said after examining him thoroughly and offering him extra painkillers, which he rejected. He needed a clear head to chase away the fog lurking in his brain.

  “How long have I been here?” he asked, anxiety coursing through him, prickling his skin.

  “About six weeks. Can you remember what happened?” the doctor asked.

  He’d barely taken in the physician’s name, simply noting the man’s position as a consultant surgeon in a reputable hospital and realising, from his looks, that they must be about the same age.

  He racked his brain but couldn’t remember anything about an accident.

  And he couldn’t shake the feeling of something being terribly wrong. Why couldn’t he remember?

  “No. What day is it?” he asked to get his bearing. The doctor told him. Stunned, a bolt of alarm shot down his spine. “And you say I’ve been in a coma for over a month?”

  “Yes. What do you remember?” the doctor enquired again.

  “The last thing I remember is being on my way to the airport with my driver.”

  Briefly, the doctor’s face creased in a frown before he spoke. “There is no cause for alarm. Some memory loss is expected with the kind of head injury you suffered. You are a healthy young man and with time, I expect you to make a full recovery. In the meanwhile, we’ll carry out some more tests and monitor your progress to ensure everything is healing as it should.”

  After the doctor left, he’d drifted back into a hazy, restless sleep.

  He woke with a dull ache in his head. Before his eyes opened, he lifted his hand to his forehead, massaging it. Heavy, drooping lids blinked several times as his eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight coming through the window, the black and white motif print curtains pulled back and secured with sashes.

  Raising his right hand, he flicked his wrist, expecting to see his gold watch. Instead, a plastic hospital tag with his name hung in its place. Adhesive tapes secured the IV cannula to his left hand. He didn't move it, so as not to dislodge the needle stuck into his veins. However, he'd insisted on having the catheter removed. About time he started using his legs again when nature called.

  He scratched the stubble on his chin. Someone had been shaving him regularly. A nurse? Considering his room had the opulence of a hotel suite than that of a regular hospital ward, it could be part of the service. A quick brush over thick hairs on his head confirmed he needed a haircut, though.

  He scanned his white-walled surroundings, where a TV screen hung on the wall opposite his bed, two chairs to the side, and a table sat in the corner with a vase of fresh African tulips, begonias, and delphiniums. The brilliant display of red, orange, pink, and white flora caught his attention. As he inhaled their light, crisp scent, he wondered who had sent the flowers. A card sat beside the vase but he didn’t bother reaching for it.

  He scrubbed a hand over his face, his frustration rising. Why couldn’t he remember the accident or the events leading up to it? Perhaps if he focused on the things he could remember, he could work his way forward.

  He recalled his identity. Easy. He’d recognised the name on the tag. Felix Essien. Definitely his name. Son of Chief Aloysius Essien, chairman of Apex Group, and Mrs. Margaret Essien.

  Clenching his jaw, he rubbed the back of his neck as anguish burnt across his chest. His mother had died when he’d been eight years old.

  Palms pressed against his eyes, he puffed out a relieved sigh as he remembered the woman with the beautiful smile and dark curly hair who had referred to him as ‘the apple of my eye.’ He never wanted to forget her. Regret knotted his stomach.

  These days, he referred to Mrs. Angela Essien as Mother, not stepmother. His father had laid down the rule very early on when she moved in. Mark and Tony Essien were his brothers; he hadn’t referred to them as half-brothers since they were boys.

  They were all Essiens, family regardless of the blood ties. They stood by each other, no matter what life threw at them.

  The Essiens ruled the African financial sector—Kings of African finance, according to Business Times magazine.

  As head of Apex Private Bank, Felix reigned over the private banking arm of the Apex Group. Their head office had its base in Lagos, with branches throughout sub-Saharan Africa and other main offices in Johannesburg, Nairobi, London, and New York.

  A business he needed to get back to. Leaning forward, he picked up the remote control and flicked the TV on. He found the news channel, hoping to catch up on world events and business news from the past six weeks.

  He reached for the jug of water on the bedside table. Anchoring his uninjured left leg, he pulled himself up but winced as a sharp pain shot up his right leg, bound in a cast. Let
ting out a silent curse, he sat up and poured himself a glass of water from the jug. As he drank, he stared at his injury, wondering how long he would have to wear the cast. He had a business to run and needed to get out of the hospital as soon as possible.

  Placing his cup back on the table, he turned just as the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen walked into the room. A slow-building smile curled his lips. The best thing he’d seen all day stood no taller than five-feet-eight, although a couple of inches could be attributed to her print platform sandals. Slender, but with curves in the right places, enough to hold.

  Why am I even thinking about holding on to a stranger? She must have walked into the wrong room.

  Elegant. The word whispered across his mind.

  Smartly dressed in a black, silver-embroidered linen tunic and with dark-blue skinny jeans that clung to wide hips, she had the refinement he liked in a woman without the haughtiness.

  She halted at the door, luscious lips parting as her brown eyes widened, her emotions so easy to read. Disbelief. Acceptance. Joy. Then she walked towards him, her lips widening in a hesitant yet glorious smile.

  His heart crashed into his ribcage before racing off in a sprint.

  “It’s true. You are awake.”

  Her voice drawled akin to a soft velvet whisper, sending warm shivers to all the wrong places in his body as she leaned over and gave him a hug.

  Dazed, he lay there basking in her heat. It seeped into his body and her floral perfume tickled his nostrils. Speechless and enthralled, he watched her. She straightened up, took his hand, and held it between her warm, soft, much smaller ones. His heart rate increased, his body’s response to her touch unmistakeable.

  Desire. Powerful, heart-stopping desire. It coursed through his veins, filling him with the need to hold on to her. Yet, he wanted more.

  Frowning, he looked up at her. She moved her coppery-brunette hair back from where it fell over her face. Long dark lashes and curved brows framed her golden-brown, almond-shaped eyes. Her skin looked so flawless he wanted to reach out and touch it; her lips so sensuous he wanted to pull her back down and taste them.