by Kiru Taye
Stella’s sweet and insistent voice drew her attention again.
"Do I look like I care?" Her tone came out short and snappy. She would rather concentrate on the email message she was typing out than give in to the temptation of her friend’s words.
"You do realise this is supposed to be a party and we’re supposed to be letting our hair down for the night," Stella muttered, raising the glass of what looked like vodka and coke to her lips and taking a large sip.
Blowing out air through her mouth, Faith lifted her head. "I’m sorry. I'll get in a party mood once I finish what I’m doing. I have to reply these emails before I can relax."
"It’s Friday evening. I’m sure everyone in Lagos is preparing to go home or has already left for the weekend. And we’re in Jo’burg. Those emails can wait till Monday." Stella flicked her manicured hand at the gadget on the dark wood tabletop and leaned back into her oxblood leather sofa, her gaze sweeping the bar lounge.
"They can’t," Faith huffed out, rolled her stiff shoulders and returned to her emails. Around her, people's conversations hummed and low music piped out of hidden speakers. She filtered out the sounds and concentrated on finishing her task.
One of those people who could never put off things till tomorrow, she thrived on crossing items off her to-do list. Otherwise, she wouldn’t sleep peacefully at night.
As Strategy Director for City Investment Brokerage firm, she hadn’t achieved her position by resting on her laurels. Sheer hard work and determination were traits she’d acquired early in life, and they drove her to the top of her career ladder.
Once the emails were sent, she stuffed her tablet into her oversized black leather Ferragamo handbag, picked up the vodka mixer drink Stella had left for her and relaxed into her overstuffed armchair.
"Sometimes, I wish I was as bold as Wumi so I wouldn’t hesitate to go up to him." Releasing an appreciative sigh, Stella took another swig of her drink as if in consolation for her lack of bravery, or rather, coquettishness.
"On the other hand, I read somewhere that men like him prefer to do the hunting. Is that true?"
"Men like him?"
"You know, the Alpha type—dominant, assertive, confident men."
"Well, I wouldn’t know." Faith rolled her eyes and glanced in the direction Stella had been staring as if drawn by a gravitational force. Of course, she didn’t need to look. She knew exactly who her friend and colleague had been referring to.
Everybody knew who he was—Mark Essien, second son of Chief Essien, the Chairman of Apex Group of Companies. As CEO of Apex Investments, Mark had been named the second most eligible bachelor in Nigeria after his older brother, Felix.
She’d swatted up on information about him when she’d found out he was going to be their keynote speaker at this Finance conference in Johannesburg.
They’d been here all week but he’d only arrived on Friday. As he strode down the aisle of the conference centre to the platform to deliver his speech, she’d heard the soft gasp from Stella who’d been sitting next to her.
Faith had seen pictures of the tycoon in the press. But none of it had prepared her for seeing him in the flesh. And when his gaze had connected with hers while he’d been speaking, her breath had died in her throat for one long moment. She’d told herself her response had been from the brilliance of the sparkling stars in his dark eyes. Yet, the truth remained—he was the most intriguing and handsome man she’d ever come across.
His height alone should be intimidating against her five-feet-four-inches’ petite stature. However, his head of thick, curly afro left longer than most executives of his business status indicated him as a man who made his own rules and didn’t go by standards set by society. She didn’t know what colour his eyes were, except that they were dark and compelling, balancing out the rather harsh and masculine facial features.
At this moment, he slouched against the bar, one lean, caramel-coloured hand resting on his thigh, the other holding a short glass with amber liquid that could’ve been whisky or brandy.
Boredom; his expression reeked of it, his sensuous lips curled in a non-smile as he paid no attention to the woman whose arm draped his shoulder in a possessive gesture—another friend and colleague of hers, Wumi Adekunle.
"From the looks of things, you’re too late. Wumi has already claimed him," Faith said, although Mark didn’t look like someone who could be claimed, if the little attention he paid their colleague proved anything to go by. "She wouldn’t like you wading in on her territory."
"Damn!" Her friend’s face fell in disappointment. "What I wouldn’t give to bag one of the Essien brothers as a boyfriend. You know, I read they were worth billions of dollars."
"You don’t need to bag an Essien to have a good life. You have a good job and you’re earning good money." To prove her point, she did a rough estimate of Stella's outfit—the black, halter-neck, Donna Karan frilly dress and peep-toe stilettos cost enough to feed some families for a year in Nigeria. "Why do you need him or any man, for that matter?"
"Ah, body no be wood o." Stella eyed her with one shaped brow raised. "I’m still a woman with needs, even if you choose not to be."
Faith ignored her snarky comment. For the past few years, she had been so focused on achieving her professional ambitions that she hadn’t made time to get involved in a personal relationship.
Why did she have to apologise for the path she had chosen? Men were expected to focus on building a career and wealth. And yet, in this day and age, women were still expected to yearn for relationships and babies. No way. Not her.
"If you want sex, you can still get it without surrendering to a man like Mark Essien. I promise you, getting involved with him can only lead to trouble. You are better off finding someone else to fulfil your sexual needs."
"Perhaps. But he looks like a man who can fulfil a woman’s sexual needs and more." Her friend tapped her lips with scarlet-tipped fingers as she gave Faith a quick, mock-disdainful once-over. "Are you seriously saying that if he asked you out, you would turn him down? Get real."
"No." Faith sucked in a sharp breath. "My answer to him would be ‘no’."
She refused to give heed to the voice in her mind calling her a liar because she’d already imagined what it would be like to have Mark’s intense gaze on her body. Even now, her body quickened at the thought.
"Sure even you as a Strategy Director of a brokerage firm can see the advantage of bedding one of the kings of finance. You’re the career woman bent on getting to the top."
"But not like that!" She’d fought hard to attain her position in a male-dominated environment and didn’t want any kind of speculation that she got there by sleeping around.
"I know. I was just joking." Stella patted her hand playfully. "But you’ve got to admit it’s tempting, right." She wagged her eyebrows as she smiled. "I wonder, if you marry a king of finance, do you become a queen of finance?" she asked as if lost in thought.
The two of them looked at each other and burst out laughing. Several people turned around to stare at them. Faith couldn’t stop the giggling until she felt eyes burning the back of her head and turned to find the very same man they were laughing about staring at her with his lips curled in amusement, too, for the first time that evening.
Instead of her laughter dying in her throat, butterflies fluttered low in her belly and her heart beat faster.
Wumi glared at her from where she stood next to Mark.
"Uh-oh!" Faith exclaimed and lifted her glass as she turned her back to hide her laughter.
"Oh, well, I’ll have to go and introduce myself to him. I don’t see why Wumi should be the only one enjoying his company," Stella remarked. She downed the rest of her drink in one huge gulp before heading back to the bar under the pretence of buying some more glasses.
Faith shook her head, not bothering to answer. If Stella thought she could muscle in on a man Wumi had already marked out for herself, she was in for a surprise.
They were all c
olleagues at City Investments—Faith the Strategy Director, Wumi the Deputy Finance Director, and Stella a Senior Financial Analyst. Three women who'd risen to the top and worked to support each other instead of backbiting like some other women did. They respected one another and watched each others’ back in an industry that could be ruthless, sometimes.
Faith and Stella were originally booked to attend the annual conference in Jo’burg with the Finance Director, David Bode. But David had pulled out at the last minute, allowing Wumi to take his place.
Now, looking round the room, she could see quite a few of the guests from the conference looking the worse for wear. Today had been the last day of the event and usually, everyone let their hair down on the last night before they had to head back to different home destinations. There’d been people from all over Africa—Ghana, Kenya, Nigeria, and of course, South Africa.
The music, too, had grown louder. The deejay had changed the tracks from slow-jam R’n’B to up-tempo Afro beats. Watching the guests gyrating about the parquet dance floor, Faith felt old. She couldn’t remember ever behaving so promiscuously, even when she’d been a teenager.
How sad was that? Her chest tightened, and her mouth dried out. Lifting her glass to her lips, she swigged her drink and allowed the buzz of the alcohol to kick in.
From the moment she left home to go to University, she’d had a five-year plan and nothing would derail it. Certainly not partying and men. She’d had a boyfriend at University but the truth was, Martin never held her heart. She’d never let her guard down long enough for any one man to mean anything to her. She liked it that way.
Moreover these days, as a director and member of the board, she couldn’t party like some of the other people her age. For her, developing new strategies and thinking up ways to outdo their business rivals proved enough fun.
"Faith, look who I found." Stella returned, beaming from ear to ear. Behind her stood a tall, fit man in a navy, silk shirt and black trousers. "This is Marcus. You remember him?"
"Of course," Faith replied, smiling up at the South African man who'd been an attendee at the same seminars. "Good to see you again, Marcus."
"Same here, Faith." The man's lips curved in a charming smile as he held onto Stella's hand as if he didn't want to let go.
"We're going to have a dance. Want to come?" Her friend asked before leaning down to whisper in Faith's right ear. "He's gorgeous, isn't he?"
"He is," she replied in a low voice. Marcus had the whole 'Matthew Fox from Lost' thing going on, with close-cropped hair and shadowed chin. "Go and have fun. I'll catch you later."
Stella straightened, lines appearing on her usually flawless, pretty face. "I don't want you sitting all alone. Come with us."
"No. I'll be fine. You don't have to babysit me."
"Okay. I'll catch you later."
The two of them headed to the dance floor, Marcus still holding onto Stella's hand.
What does it feel like to have the undivided attention of a man who didn't want to let you go?
She'd never known that feeling. The tightness in her chest returned.
I need another drink if I'm suddenly longing for male company.
A glance at her glass revealed it empty. She should head to the bar and get it refilled. But there lay her problem. Mark Essien. Her head lightened at the thought of standing mere inches away from him.
"Men like him prefer to do the hunting." Her friend's words came back to haunt her. Her breath hitched and between her thighs throbbed a similar rhythm as her pounding heart.
Oh, God! Why did the idea of being hunted by Mark make her body come alive? Why did she suddenly crave his touch?
Snatching her tote, Faith left the lounge and hurried for the ladies’. She rubbed her wrist-watch in an agitated motion as she tried to quell her body's excitement. She avoided the bar area and manoeuvred through the exuberant crowd, smiling and giving quick greetings to some people she recognised from the seminars.
In the loo, the sound of music felt less intrusive, and she took the time to refresh her makeup and check her outfit. She’d changed from her skirt suit into a plum silk dress with a cowl neckline that hid her buxom bust line and skimmed her curves.
The overall impression of the outfit pointed towards sophisticated and understated sensuality, unlike Wumi’s strapless, figure-hugging dress that obviously had men panting to gain her attention, including Mark Essien.
While Wumi had no problems flaunting her sexuality, Faith always struggled to ensure that people noticed her intelligence and her ability, not just that she had a body that could satisfy a man’s needs or had childbearing hips.
A glance at her watch showed almost midnight. How much longer were her friends expecting to stay up at the party?
Faith massaged her temples, trying to push back the dull throbbing in her head, a sign of her tiredness. She’d been up since five a.m. that morning, trying to finish a presentation for investors which she would be delivering on Monday. She’d gone down to the hotel gym for a workout before showering and getting dressed for the day’s events.
They’d had a full day of seminars culminating in the speech by Mark Essien on the future of African investments in a global market. She’d been really impressed with his conclusions, some of which she’d reached herself, especially since she’d been trying to convince her own board on some of the issues he’d highlighted.
After the seminar, she’d gone back to her room, showered, and changed before coming down to the dinner which had then transformed into a party. In the process, she’d called her parents to request that her brother come to Lagos to stay for a few weeks while on school break.
As usual, her suggestion had been shot down by her father. The man saw her as a corrupting influence on her young sibling. The anger of that disappointment had simmered all evening, partly the reason she hadn’t gotten into a celebratory mood.
Now, all she wanted was her bed, before she had to wake up and catch a flight back to Lagos tomorrow.
Faith sighed again, opened the door, and stepped out of the ladies’.
She sucked in a startled breath at the sight of a man standing underneath the archway leading back to the dancehall.
Mark Essien.
His shoulder propped against the wall in a casual manner, his legs crossed over at the ankles, and his hand holding a smart phone which he shoved in his back pocket.
For a moment, she stood there and just stared at him, lean and unquestionably sexy, in grey pinstripe trousers and a black silk shirt, the sleeves rolled back over forearms liberally spread with fine, dark hair, two buttons undone at the collar so that she got a sneak peek of a muscular chest.
"Oh," she said, her voice a little squeaky as her mouth suddenly dried out. "Hi...Where you looking for the gents’ toilet? I think it’s on the other side of the hall."
She wasn’t even sure why she was talking to him except that she suddenly couldn’t control her mouth.
"No. I don’t need the gents’," he said, his voice low and disturbingly sensual, spiking her nerves. "I was looking for you."
"Me?" Faith couldn’t hide the surprise from her voice. What could he want with her?
"Yes...you," he agreed, with a smile that gave his words a disarming intimacy. "I think we should both get out of here. You don’t want to be here any more than I do."
Faith blinked at the rate of a machine gun and turned away to gather her thoughts.
Wumi wouldn’t be pleased if she could hear him. She’d spent the whole day talking about meeting up with him and then the entire evening following him around like a puppy.
"Admittedly—" She swallowed to clear her throat and tried again. "—I'm tired and was thinking of going up to my room. But we certainly don’t have to leave together."
Winged creatures fluttered low in her belly as she struggled to believe he had come out here especially to see her. For heaven’s sake, he didn’t appear the kind of man who’d be interested in someone so ordinary. Attractive
enough for a young woman, she didn't have Wumi's runway-model body, or Stella's pretty face.
Mark smiled—sensually curled lips, dimpled cheeks and eyes glinting with delightful mischief. Her insides melted. "There’s nothing that says we can’t."
Warmth radiated through her body and she couldn’t help smiling even as she shook her head. "I think Wumi, your girlfriend—" She had to force the word out of her mouth. "—and my friend, will have something to say about that, don’t you think?"
He rested his head against the frame of the door for a moment, studying her with eyes that she now saw were as dark as the midnight sky. Framed by thick, black lashes, they caused a shivery feeling inside her.
Just her luck. The first man she'd been attracted to in a very long time had to be involved with her friend.
He straightened and moved into the hallway.
Prey. She was being stalked. Hunted.
The rush of blood thundered in her ears, and her eyes widened, half in apprehension, half with a sense of anticipation she’d never felt before. Pull yourself together, Faith. There must have been way too much vodka in her mixer.
He tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, his fingertips brushing her earlobe. A shiver passed through her body and the subtle contraction in her lower belly returned.
Without going back to his original position, he said, "So, you must be Faith, right?"
Her gaze riveted to his lips quirked in amusement. Would they be soft or firm if she kissed him?
"Yes..." she replied in a breathless voice, her head inclined. "Faith Brown."
"I guess you know me already, but I’ll introduce myself again. My name is Mark Essien," he said, with a slight bow of his head. "Nice to meet you."
"Oh, um, nice to meet you, too." Faith reared her head back in surprise when he held out his hand towards her. She was used to formal introductions at work. Still, something about Mark’s intro told her this was personal, not business.
"The pleasure is mine," his voice dropped an octave and he took the hand she offered, raising it to his lips.
Faith imagined him brushing his lips against her knuckles. Mark surprised her by turning her hand over. Warm lips brushed her palm and for a second or two, his rough tongue flickered against her skin. Inside, she clenched low, needing to be filled. Outside, she tingled, craving more caresses.
