Pretend I'm Your's

The bridal fair smelled like fake roses, expensive perfume, and reminded me I definitely didn't belong because I was broke. I straightened the “Zara Events” banner hanging over my booth for what had to be the fifth time. The satin ribbon was still crooked. My bank account was still suffering. And across the aisle, the parasite in the form of a man responsible for most of my problems stood there smiling like he had just won the lottery. David Okoro. My ex. My former business partner. And the reason I’d spent the last eight months surviving on just Indomie while pretending my business wasn’t crashing slowly. Of course, he had the biggest booth at the fair. Gold balloons. A live saxophonist. And some beautiful influencer hanging off his arm, recording everything for her two-million-plus followers. “Zara!” His voice carried across the entire hall. I looked up and found him grinning at me. “Babe, you should come and see our new venue package. We’re already booked till 2027.” My smile froze. Our. That word alone was enough to make me vent my anger on him. Our client list. The one he walked away with. Our venue contacts. The ones I had spent years building from nothing. But I just had to swallow the anger rising in my throat and force a polite smile as if it was real. “Congratulations, David. Looks great.” He walked toward me. Then closer. Too close. His cologne reached me before he did. The same fragrance I used to buy for him. “You look tired,” he said, lowering his voice as though he actually cared. “Running a business all alone is hard, right?” I said nothing. He smiled. “You could always come back.” His eyes moved over my little booth. “Work for me this time.” I was just about turning him down when a deep masculine voice came from behind me. “Touch her again and lose the hand.” I turned. And forgot what I was about to say. He was tall. Six-two, maybe more. He wore a black agbada that fit him so perfectly it looked custom-made for the sole purpose of making every other man in the room look underdressed. There was something about him. He has the kind of presence that made everyone unconsciously lower their voices when he walked past. The kind of man who didn't feel the need to make a big show of himself. Everyone already knew he had arrived. Tunde Cole. Tech billionaire. Real estate king. And David’s biggest rival. I’d pitched to his company twice. Rejected twice. His eyes were fixed on David. Cold. Calm. Completely unreadable. Like he was already deciding whether David was worth his time. David’s expression changed. “Tunde. Didn’t know you were into weddings.” “I’m not.” Then Tunde looked at me. And just like that, his face changed. His eyes softened. Almost as if we shared some private joke no one else knew about. “I’m here for my fiancée.” Silence. Even the saxophonist seemed to lose his rhythm. I stared at him. My brain refused to process what I’d just heard. “I’m sorry… what?” His hand slid around my waist. Warm. Firm. Possessive. Before I could move away, he pulled me against his side like I belonged there. “Zara Adeyemi,” he said smoothly. Hearing my name from his lips sent an unfamiliar shiver down my spine. “We’re finalizing the venue today, remember?” I blinked. Cameras started clicking. Phones came out. Someone gasped. The influencer on David’s arm looked like she’d just witnessed the plot twist of the year. David’s smile disappeared. “Fiancée?” His eyes moved between us. “Since when?” Tunde didn’t even hesitate. “Since we stopped telling people.” Then he looked at me. “Come on, babe. We’re late for the Cole Venue tour.” And before I could even figure out what was happening, he was already leading me away. Past David’s shocked face. Past the curious stares. Past the whispers that were probably already turning into gossip. And past what felt like my entire career blowing up in real time. I wasn't breathing properly until we were both outside. The hot Abuja air slapped me across the face. I immediately pulled my arm away. “What the hell was that?” Tunde turned to face me. Up close, he was even more intimidating. Sharp jaw. Dark eyes. The kind of eyes that made you feel like he noticed everything—even the things you were trying to hide. “Damage control,” he said calmly. “For both of us.” I stared at him. “I didn’t ask for your help.” “No.” He reached into his pocket. “But you needed it.” He pulled out his business card and handed it to me. It was thick. Black. Expensive-looking. Tunde Cole. Cole Developments. “My assistant will call you tomorrow.” He checked his watch. “Ten a.m. My office.” I frowned. “I’m not going.” “You are.” His tone left no room for argument. “Because David just posted that video.” My stomach dropped. “And because,” he continued, “I’m about to offer you a fifty-million-naira contract.” I stared at him. “Fifty million?” “For what?” “For pretending to be mine.” He said it so casually, like he was asking me to order lunch. I actually laughed. “You’re insane.” “Six weeks.” His expression remained completely serious. “Fake engagement. You helped me convince my parents that I’m finally settling down, and I’ll give you exclusive rights to plan every wedding held at my new venue.” I stared at him. My mouth opened. Then closed. “That is insane.” He tilted his head slightly. “Is it?” His eyes held mine. “Or is it business?” Before I could respond, the doors behind us opened. David stepped outside. The moment he saw us, his eyes narrowed. Tunde noticed. Of course, he did. He stepped toward me until my back touched the wall. He didn't actually touch me. But the sudden closeness made me gasp for air. His voice dropped. “Rule number one of pretending, Zara.” His eyes stayed on mine. “You look at me like I’m the only man in the room.” My heart betrayed me with one hard beat. “Rule number two?” I whispered. His eyes dropped briefly to my lips. “No kissing.” He paused. “Unless someone’s watching.” For half a second, neither of us moved. Then he stepped back, his expression turning unreadable again. “Think about it.” He placed the card in my hand. “You have twenty-four hours.” He started walking away. “After that, I find another bride.” And just like that, he left. No goodbye. No explanation. Nothing. Like he hadn’t just walked into my life, destroyed my sanity, and offered me fifty million naira in the space of three minutes. I looked down at the business card. Then at my phone. Three missed calls from my accountant. One new message from David. Cute stunt. We both know it’s fake. I rolled my eyes. Then another message came in. Unknown number. Tunde Cole: 10 a.m. Don’t be late. Wear red. I stared at the screen. Who gave this man permission to be this controlling? I should have said no. I should have blocked the number. I should have walked back into that hall, packed my things, and forgotten the entire ridiculous encounter. But fifty million naira could save my company. And honestly? The look on David’s face was worth at least half of it. I typed: Fine. But I make the rules too. The reply came almost immediately. Three little dots appeared. Then: Tunde: We’ll see. I stared at the message. For some reason, I had a feeling I’d just made the biggest mistake of my life. Or the best one.