THE GALA TRAP
1698 Words
The invitation was gold-embossed and ridiculous.
THE LAGOS LAND AND HOUSING SUMMIT
Honoring Chief Emeka Adebayo and Distinguished Guests
Eko Convention Center. Black Tie.
Zara held it between two fingers like it smelled bad. “You want me to walk into a room full of the men who tried to kill me?”
Tayo was checking his gun in the mirror. He’d traded the polo for a black tux. It fit him very well.
“I want them to see you,” he said. “And I want to see who flinches.”
“This is insane.”
“This is the only way.” He holstered the gun under his jacket. “They think you’re in hiding. They think you’re scared. We show up, you smile, we record who talks to whom.”
“And if they recognize me?”
“They will.” Tayo turned to her. “That’s the point.”
Zara looked down at the dress draped over the chair. Red. Backless. Slit up to the thigh. The hotel had sent it “compliments of the Chief Judge.”
She picked it up. “I hate you a little right now.”
Tayo’s mouth twitched. “You’ll survive.”
An hour later, they were in his SUV again, crawling through Victoria Island traffic.
Zara tugged at the dress. “It’s too tight.”
“You look fine.”
“I look like I’m going to a music video, not a summit.”
Tayo glanced at her. Then did a double take. “You look like bait.”
“Thanks.”
“And like a woman who could ruin a man with one look.”
The car went quiet.
Zara stared out the window. “Don’t compliment me, Tayo. We have a job.”
“I’m not complimenting you.” His voice was flat. “I’m stating facts.”
She didn’t answer.
The Convention Center was lit up like a Christmas tree. Black cars lined the driveway. Men in agbada. Women in gele. Champagne in plastic flutes.
Tayo parked and came around to open her door. He offered his arm.
Zara hesitated. Then took it.
The moment their hands touched, his expression went blank. Cop face.
“Remember,” he murmured as they walked in. “We’re Mr. and Mrs. Bello. Real estate investors from Abuja. You’re my wife. Act like it.”
“I’m not calling you husband.”
“Then call me Tayo. But touch me. Smile at me. Make them believe it.”
Inside was worse. Crystal chandeliers. A band playing highlife. And at the center of it all, Chief Emeka Adebayo, laughing with a senator.
Zara’s blood went cold. That was one of the names in the file.
“Easy,” Tayo said under his breath. His hand settled on the small of her back. Warm. Steady. “Breathe.”
She did. “Where do we start?”
“Bar. We listen.”
They moved through the crowd. People stared. Zara realized why. A woman in red on the arm of a man in a perfect tux always got attention.
“Mr. Bello!” A man in a bowtie intercepted them. “Don’t I know you?”
Tayo smiled. The fake one. The one that didn’t reach his eyes. “Probably not. We just moved down from Abuja.”
“Oh. Right. The new development in Lugbe.” The man eyed Zara. “And this is...?”
“My wife, Zara.” Tayo’s hand tightened on her back. “Zara, this is Mr. Okonkwo.”
Zara held out her hand. “Pleasure.”
“Mrs. Bello. Stunning dress.” His eyes lingered too long. “You must tell me where you got it.”
Zara smiled. The sharp one she used in interviews. “My husband bought it for me.”
Tayo’s thumb brushed her spine. Once.
Mr. Okonkwo blinked and walked away.
Zara turned to Tayo. “Did you just—”
“I’m playing the part,” he said, but his ears were red. “Come on.”
They got drinks. Palm wines for her, whiskey for him. They circulated.
Zara listened. Caught names. Caught phrases. The journalist. The files. Make it go away.
Her hands were shaking.
Tayo noticed. He leaned in, pretending to whisper something sweet.
“You’re doing great,” he said, lips near her ear. “But if you keep looking like you want to murder someone, we’re blown down.”
“I do want to murder someone.”
“I know.” His breath was warm on her skin. “Focus on me.”
Zara looked up at him. “Why?”
“Because I’m the only safe thing in this room.”
It wasn’t flirting. It was true.
The band started a slow song. Couples moved to the dance floor.
Tayo set his drink down. “Dance with me.”
“What?”
“Dance. Now. Chief Adebayo is watching us.”
Zara let him pull her onto the floor.
His hand went to her waist. The other took her hand.
He was a good dancer. Annoyingly good.
“Relax,” he murmured. “You’re stiff.”
“I have a target on my back.”
“I’m the target. You’re the bait.” He spun her. “Smile, Zara.”
She did. Because the alternative was screaming.
They moved together. Close. Too close.
She could feel his heartbeat through the tux. Fast.
“Stop looking at me like that,” he said quietly.
“Like what?”
“Like you remember Badagry.”
Zara’s cheeks burned. “I don’t.”
“Liar.”
His hand slid lower on her back. Just to the edge of the dress. Skin to skin.
Zara sucked in a breath. “Tayo.”
“Hm?”
“We’re supposed to be working.”
“We are.” But he didn’t pull back. If anything, he pulled her closer. “Tell me what you hear.”
“I hear Chief Adebayo saying ‘the girl needs to be silenced permanently.’”
Tayo stiffened. “Where?”
“By the pillar. 2 o’clock.”
Tayo turned them, so his back was to the pillar. “Good girl.”
The compliment did something to her stomach.
The song ended. They didn’t let go right away.
“Thank you,” Tayo said. Quiet. Just for her. “For being brave.”
Zara nodded. She couldn’t speak.
That’s when the lights flickered.
Once. Twice.
Then the power was cut.
The room went black.
Screams.
“Zara!” Tayo’s voice. His arm came around her, pulling her to the floor. “Stay down!”
Glass shattered somewhere.
“Everyone stay calm!” said a voice on the mic. “Generator is coming on!”
But Tayo wasn’t calm. He had her under him, shielding her with his body.
“Are you hit?”
“I’m fine. Get off me.”
He didn’t. Not yet. “I need to check—”
The lights came back on.
Chaos. Tables overturned. People are running.
And at the exit, Chief Adebayo was being escorted out quickly by two men in suits.
One of them looked back. Right at Zara.
Tayo saw it too. He stood and pulled her up. “We’re leaving. Now.”
“What about the recording?”
“I got it.” He tapped his watch. It was recording. “Let’s go.”
They pushed through the crowd. Outside, the night air was a relief.
Tayo had her in the car in 30 seconds. He peeled out before she even had her seatbelt on.
“Did you see his face?” Zara asked, heart pounding. “The man with Adebayo?”
“Yeah.” Tayo’s knuckles were white on the wheel. “That was Emeka Obi. The lawyer. He saw you.”
Zara sank into the seat. “This was a bad idea.”
“It was the right idea. We have them on record now.”
Tayo glanced at her. “Are you okay?”
Zara nodded. But her hands were still shaking.
Tayo reached over without looking and took her hand. Laced their fingers together.
Zara didn’t pull away.
They drove in silence back to Badagry.
When they got to the house, Tayo locked the door, checked the windows, then turned to her.
“You did good tonight,” he said.
Zara dropped her bag. “I’m tired of being brave.”
“I know.”
She looked at him. Hair messed up from the chaos. Tux jacket off. Shirt sleeves rolled up.
He looked human. Not DCP Bello. Just Tayo.
“I’m going to bed,” she said.
“Zara.”
She stopped. “What?”
Tayo took a step toward her. Then another.
He reached up and brushed a piece of hair from her face. His fingers lingered on her cheek.
“Thank you,” he whispered. “For trusting me tonight.”
Zara’s breath caught. “Tayo, don’t—”
He leaned in.
For one second, she thought he was going to kiss her.
Then his phone buzzed. Loud. In his pocket.
They both jumped back like they’d been burned.
Tayo answered. His face went hard. “What? When?”
He hung up.
“What is it?” Zara asked.
“Safe house in Lekki. Burned down. 20 minutes ago.” He ran a hand through his hair. “They knew we were there.”
Zara felt sick. “The leak.”
“The leak,” Tayo confirmed. He looked at her. “We can’t stay here either.”
“So where do we go?”
Tayo’s eyes were dark. “Somewhere with no address. No phones. No backup.”
“Where?”
“My father’s fishing cabin. In the creeks. No network. No road.”
Zara swallowed. “Just us?”
“Just us.”
The house suddenly felt very quiet.
Zara nodded. “Okay. Let’s go.”
Tayo went to pack.
Zara stood in the living room, heart still racing from the dance, from the almost-kiss, from the danger.
She pressed her fingers to her lips.
He almost kissed her.
And she almost let him.
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