Chapter Fourteen
1547 Words
Clear Intentions
Monday morning arrived with fabric samples, two production problems and one message Amara had been expecting without admitting it.
Kene.
I survived the matchmaking committee.
Amara smiled at her phone.
Barely. Your mother was enjoying herself far too much.
Your mother was worse.
Traitor.
Facts are not betrayal, Mara.
She shook her head.
Then another message appeared.
Can I ask you something?
That sounded suspiciously serious.
You already did.
Very funny. You and Okafor?
Amara’s fingers paused over the screen.
Tobe.
There was a longer pause before Kene replied.
Right. Tobe. Are you seeing him?
Amara paused.
The question should have been simple.
It wasn’t.
I… don’t know what we’re calling it yet.
Kene’s reply came almost immediately.
That sounds like a no.
It’s not a no either, Kene.
A longer pause followed.
Interesting.
Don’t make it interesting.
I didn’t say anything.
You didn’t have to.
Amara stared at the screen.
She had not encouraged him.
She had only told the truth.
Whatever was happening between her and Tobe was real. It simply had not been named yet.
Before she could decide whether that bothered her, Chisom appeared in the doorway holding three fabric swatches.
“Choose before our supplier chooses for you.”
Amara put the phone down.
Work first.
Kene—and everything his question had stirred—could wait.
At lunchtime, another message arrived.
This one made her smile before she even opened it.
Tobe.
I have been informed that “Dinner this week” was not a properly phrased invitation.
Amara leaned back in her chair.
By whom?
Experience.
She laughed.
Then try again.
A pause.
Amara, are you free for dinner on Wednesday?
Better.
Is that a yes?
Seven-thirty.
I’ll pick you up at home.
She looked at the message for a moment longer than necessary.
Okay.
On Wednesday evening, Tobe arrived at seven twenty-nine.
Amara was ready.
She considered making him wait simply because arriving one minute early felt smug.
Instead, she picked up her bag and went downstairs.
Tobe stood beside the car in a charcoal shirt and dark trousers.
His attention settled on her immediately.
Amara wore a soft cream dress with a fitted waist, gold earrings and her hair pulled into a sleek low bun.
“One minute early,” she said.
“I’m improving.”
“At what?”
“Not irritating you.”
She looked at him.
“That project has failed.”
“I suspected.”
He opened the passenger door.
Amara slipped into the car.
“Thank you.”
Tobe closed the door with the faintest smile.
He chose a quiet restaurant in Ikoyi, the kind that did not need loud music or dramatic lighting to feel expensive.
When they arrived, he came around the car and opened her door before she could reach for it.
This time, Amara simply took the hand he offered and stepped out.
Tobe noticed the lack of argument.
“Nothing to say?”
“Don’t ruin the moment.”
“Noted.”
Dinner was easy.
They talked about work for exactly eleven minutes before Amara pointed her fork at him.
“We agreed.”
“You brought up the new supplier.”
“And you encouraged me.”
“I answered a question.”
“With numbers.”
“Numbers are useful.”
“Not on dates.”
Tobe went quiet.
Amara realised what she had said.
Again.
His gaze sharpened with amusement.
“You keep calling these dates.”
“They are dates.”
“Good.”
She narrowed her eyes.
“Why do you look pleased?”
“Because I was beginning to wonder whether you planned to keep pretending otherwise.”
Amara set down her fork.
“I have not been pretending.”
“Amara.”
“Tobe.”
He smiled.
For a while they let the conversation move elsewhere.
Music.
Travel.
The fact that Tobe apparently owned running shoes Amara had never seen.
“I exercise.”
“At what time? Three in the morning?”
“Six.”
She looked horrified.
“That is not better.”
“You’re awake by seven.”
“Seven is civilised.”
“There is nothing civilised about you before coffee.”
Amara stared at him.
“You have never seen me before coffee.”
“I’m making an informed projection.”
“You’ve returned to work language.”
“Occupational damage.”
She laughed.
Dessert arrived between them.
Tobe waited until Amara stole the first bite from his plate.
Then he said, “There is something I want to be clear about.”
The change in his voice made her put down the spoon.
“That sounds serious.”
“It is.”
He held her gaze.
“I’m not seeing anyone else.”
Amara went still.
Tobe continued.
“And I’m not interested in seeing anyone else.”
There was no performance in it.
No grand declaration.
Just certainty.
Her heartbeat picked up anyway.
“Is this where you ask about Kene?”
“No.”
The answer came immediately.
“Why not?”
“Because this is about you and me.”
Amara looked at him for a long moment.
Then she smiled.
“I’m not seeing anyone else either.”
Something in Tobe’s expression softened.
“Good.”
She almost laughed.
“One word. Full speech.”
“You understand me now.”
“Unfortunately.”
He reached across the table.
Amara placed her hand in his.
She traced her thumb lightly along the side of his hand.
“There’s one thing we should be sensible about.”
“The advisory programme.”
“Exactly.”
Tobe nodded.
“When we’re working, nothing changes. I won’t soften an opinion because we’re dating, and I won’t make decisions for your company.”
Amara held his gaze.
“And if I disagree with you?”
“You usually do.”
“Tobe.”
“Then you disagree with me. It’s your business.”
That mattered more than he probably knew.
Amara had spent too long defending her right to make her own choices to give it up simply because she liked the man across from her.
“Good,” she said.
His eyebrow lifted.
“One word?”
“Full speech.”
He smiled.
“So,” she said, “what exactly are we saying?”
Tobe’s thumb moved once over her knuckles.
“I’m saying I want to date you properly.”
“Properly?”
“Exclusively, if you need a less dangerous word.”
She smiled.
“And if I say yes?”
“Then I continue taking you to dinner, irritating you and opening your car door.”
“Very ambitious.”
“I have a reputation.”
Amara squeezed his hand.
“Yes.”
Tobe’s eyes stayed on hers.
“Yes?”
“Yes, Tobe. We’re dating.”
For perhaps the first time since she had met him, he looked completely satisfied with an answer.
A few minutes later, Tobe glanced at her as though remembering something.
“There’s a foundation dinner on Friday.”
“Okay.”
“Come with me.”
Amara stared at him.
“Tobe, you’re with me now.”
“I’m aware.”
“And you want to see me again on Friday?”
He held her gaze.
“Apparently once this week isn’t enough.”
Her smile came slowly.
“Was that your version of ‘I can’t get enough of you’?”
“Don’t ruin it.”
She laughed.
“Ask properly.”
Tobe sighed, but there was a smile in his eyes.
“Amara, will you come with me on Friday?”
“To the foundation dinner?”
“Yes. Mostly people I work with.”
“So I’m entering the famous Tobe Okafor corporate habitat?”
“Try to behave.”
“No promises.”
He shook his head.
“Is that a yes?”
Amara smiled.
“Yes.”
When they reached her house, Tobe parked and came around to open her door.
Amara stepped out, but he kept hold of her hand.
“Walk me to the door,” she said.
His eyebrow lifted.
“Was that an instruction?”
“Yes.”
“Interesting.”
“You’ll survive.”
He laughed and walked beside her.
At the entrance, Amara turned towards him.
“Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”
Neither moved.
“You’re supposed to leave now,” she said.
“You’re supposed to go inside.”
“I live here.”
“Exactly.”
She smiled.
Then Tobe leaned down and kissed her.
Slow.
Warm.
Familiar enough now that Amara no longer wondered whether it would happen.
Only how long he intended to keep doing it.
When they separated, he brushed his thumb lightly against her cheek.
“Wednesday was a good choice.”
“You mean me or the restaurant?”
“Yes.”
Amara laughed.
“Goodnight, Tobe.”
“Goodnight, Amara.”
Inside, Amara leaned briefly against the closed door, still smiling.
Friday would be the first time she entered Tobe’s world not as a founder, a client or a woman he was assessing.
She would be going as the woman he was dating.
For some reason, that felt like a much bigger step.
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