Pretend I'm Your's

Chapter 5 The Morning After

I woke up to my phone buzzing off the bed.

87 missed calls.

203 w******p messages.

12 blog tags.

The headline on every site:

*TUNDE COLE PROTECTS FIANCÉE WITH STEAMY KISS AT CHARITY GALA*

Under it: a photo of us. His hand on my jaw. My eyes closed. I looked like I believed it.

I threw my phone face down.

Rule 2. Broken.

Rule 3. Cracking.

There was a knock at my door at 7:13 AM.

I opened it in shorts and an oversized shirt. Hair in a mess.

Tunde stood there. Black polo. Sunglasses. And two takeout bags that smelled like heaven.

“Before you say anything,” he said, walking in like he owned the place. “Yes, I’m here. No, I didn’t call. And yes, that’s akara and pap.”

He set the food on my small kitchen counter. My kitchen had never looked so expensive.

“Damage control,” he said. “That’s what you called it last night.”

I crossed my arms. “The damage is done, Mr. Cole. The whole internet saw you kiss me.”

“I know.” He took off his sunglasses. He looked tired. “Did I hurt you?”

The question threw me. “What?”

“Last night. When I kissed you. Did I hurt you?” His eyes searched for mine. “Because you looked... I don’t know. Surprised.”

I looked away. Poured pap into a mug. “It was convincing. That’s the job.”

Tunde went quiet. Then: “My mom called.”

I nearly dropped the spoon. “What?”

“She saw the blogs. She wants to plan an engagement party. Next month. At the venue,” he dragged a hand down his face. “She said, ‘if my son can kiss like that in public, he better be serious in private.’”

I laughed. Once. Bitter. “Tell her it’s fake.”

“I can’t.” He stepped closer. “Not if we want the land deal. Not if we want the contract.”

The akara suddenly didn’t smell good anymore.

“So what now? More kissing? More lies?”

“Now,” Tunde said, “we get ahead of it.”

He pulled out his phone. Showed me a draft post. Him and me. From last night. Caption: _With the woman I’m proud to call mine. Thank you for all the love

“Post this. From your account. Tag me.”

I stared at him. “You want me to lie to the internet too?”

“I want you to survive this,” he said quietly. “David is already telling people you sold yourself for a contract.”

That hit.

I took the phone. Posted it. My hands shook.

The likes started coming in instantly. _Couple goals. So beautiful. Congratulations!_

Tunde watched me. “Are you okay?”

“No,” I admitted. “Because that kiss felt real.”

The room went still.

Tunde exhaled. “Zara...”

“Don’t.” I held up a hand. “Rule 3, remember? No falling.”

“I remember.” He was close now. Too close. I could smell his cologne from last night. “That’s why I’m here at 7am instead of at the office. Because if I don’t see you, I’ll think about it too much.”

“Think about what?”

“The way you tasted like wine and defiance.”

He said it so low I almost missed it.

My heart did something stupid.

I took a step back. “We need boundaries, Tunde. New ones.”

“Fine.” He nodded. “New rules.”

“Rule 1: No more surprise kisses.”

“Agreed.”

“Rule 2: We don’t stay alone in closed rooms unless we have to.”

“Agreed.”

“Rule 3...” My voice cracked. “We remember this ends in 6 weeks.”

Tunde’s jaw tightened. “Agreed.”

His phone rang. Nneka.

He answered, listened, then hung up.

“Investors loved the post,” he said. “The deal is moving forward.”

“Good,” I said. “That’s what this is about, right?”

“Right.” But he didn’t look happy about it.

He was at the door when he stopped.

“Engagement party,” he said without turning. “Next month. Will you... help me pick a theme?”

It wasn’t a business question. It was a _us_ question.

“Yeah,” I whispered. “I’ll help.”

He left.

And I stood in my kitchen, eating akara that tasted like ash, staring at a photo of us kissing.

Later That Night

My sister Amaka called.

“Zara Adeyemi. Explain. Now.”

I told her half the truth. The contract. The 50M. The fake.

She was quiet for a long time. “And the kiss?”

“For the cameras,” I said.

“Mmhm.” She didn’t believe me.

“Just be careful, Z. Men like Tunde Cole don’t play. And hearts like yours don’t have a ‘mutual split’ button.”

After we hung up, I looked at the ring on my finger.

Then at Tunde’s text from 2 hours ago:

*Tunde: Theme ideas. Send me 3. And Zara... thank you for today.*

I typed back: *Gold and white. Garden. Traditional.*

Then deleted it.

Then typed: *Anything you want.*

Sent.

Because Rule 3 was already a problem.

And the engagement party was in 4 weeks.