Chapter Twelve
1549 Words
Changed Terms
The first thing Amara did the next morning was touch her lips.
The second was become annoyed with herself for doing it.
She was standing in front of the mirror in her bedroom at home, fastening an earring, when the memory returned with unnecessary clarity.
Tobe’s hand at the back of her neck.
His voice.
Stop observing.
The second kiss.
Amara stared at her reflection.
“This is ridiculous.”
Her phone buzzed on the dressing table.
Tobe.
She looked at the screen for three seconds before picking it up.
Good morning.
A smile betrayed her immediately.
Good morning.
Did you sleep?
Eventually.
His reply came almost at once.
That sounds like my fault.
Amara sat on the edge of the bed.
Confidence this early in the morning is unattractive.
Noted.
A pause.
Then:
Still my fault?
She laughed.
Possibly.
I’ll accept that.
She should have put the phone down.
Instead, she typed:
You seem very pleased with yourself.
I had a good evening.
Her fingers stilled.
So did I.
This time, his reply took longer.
Good.
One word.
Again.
Amara shook her head and stood.
If she allowed Tobe Okafor to ruin her concentration before nine in the morning, Chisom would become unbearable.
She was halfway out of her bedroom when another message arrived.
Advisory session today. My office. Four o’clock.
Amara stopped.
There he was.
Romance had apparently lasted twelve hours.
She typed:
That sounded very much like an instruction.
It is.
Unbelievable.
See you at four.
She smiled despite herself.
At exactly four minutes past four, Amara stepped into Tobe’s office.
Tara looked up from her desk.
“You’re late.”
“Four minutes.”
“He noticed at minute one.”
Amara glanced towards the closed door.
“Of course he did.”
Tara lowered her voice.
“For what it’s worth, he has checked the time three times.”
Amara looked at her.
Tara’s face was perfectly innocent.
“I said nothing.”
“You people are all the same.”
“Who?”
“People who say nothing while saying everything.”
Tara smiled and opened the door.
Tobe was standing beside the window with his jacket off and his sleeves folded neatly to his forearms.
He turned.
His eyes met hers.
For one second, neither of them seemed to remember that Tara was still there.
Then Tobe looked at the clock.
“Four minutes.”
Amara walked in.
“Good afternoon to you too.”
“Good afternoon.”
“Much better.”
Behind her, Tara made a sound suspiciously close to a laugh and closed the door.
Amara placed her bag on the chair.
“So this is where you terrorize people.”
Tobe’s office was larger than she had expected. Dark wood. Clean lines. Floor-to-ceiling windows. Everything arranged with the kind of precision that made her want to move something just to see if he would notice.
He would.
She knew that now.
Tobe gestured towards the table.
“Sit.”
She stared at him.
He sighed.
“Please.”
“Progress.”
They began with the supplier agreement.
For twenty minutes, they were exactly what they were supposed to be.
Founder.
Adviser.
Numbers.
Margins.
Production timelines.
Then Tobe reached across the table for her revised projections.
His fingers brushed hers.
Both stopped.
It was barely a touch.
It was also completely different now.
Amara withdrew her hand first.
Tobe looked at the document.
“Your second-quarter production target is aggressive.”
“That is a very professional sentence.”
His mouth moved.
“Would you prefer I comment on your hand?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“Very good.”
Neither looked particularly convinced.
They continued.
Half an hour later, someone knocked.
A member of Tobe’s staff entered carrying a garment bag.
“Sir, your suit for the dinner is in the resting suite.”
Amara glanced up.
“Resting suite?”
The man left.
Tobe continued reading.
“You have a resting suite in your office?”
“Yes.”
She looked around.
“Of course you do.”
He raised his eyes.
“What does that mean?”
“It means you are exactly the kind of person who has a bedroom hidden behind a boardroom.”
“It is not behind the boardroom.”
“That is your objection?”
Tobe leaned back.
“There’s a private room through there.”
He nodded towards a discreet door she had assumed led to storage.
“I work late sometimes. It has a bedroom, bathroom, wardrobe and a small sitting area.”
Amara stared.
“That is not a resting room. That is a second apartment.”
“It is practical.”
“Do you secretly live here?”
“No.”
“Do you own pyjamas here?”
He paused.
Amara’s eyes widened.
“You do.”
“That information is not relevant to your business.”
She burst out laughing.
Tobe watched her.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You are enjoying this too much.”
“Immensely.”
He shook his head and returned to the figures.
Amara looked once more at the closed door.
Then deliberately looked away.
For reasons she refused to examine.
By six, the advisory session was technically over.
Neither of them had moved.
Amara closed her laptop.
“We’ve exceeded the programme requirement again.”
“I know.”
“And yet you don’t appear concerned.”
“I’m surviving.”
She slipped the laptop into her bag.
“So what happens now?”
Tobe looked at her.
The question had been innocent.
Mostly.
Something in his expression made it less so.
“With the business?”
Amara held his gaze.
“You know that isn’t what I meant.”
Silence settled between them.
Not awkward.
Just honest.
Tobe stood and walked around the table.
Amara remained seated.
He stopped beside her chair.
“I don’t want to pretend last night didn’t happen.”
“Good.”
“I also don’t want this”—he glanced at the papers between them—“to become complicated because of it.”
Amara nodded slowly.
“My company comes first.”
“I know.”
“And when we’re working, I need you to tell me when I’m wrong.”
“I already enjoy doing that.”
She almost smiled.
“Tobe.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
His expression softened.
“I respect what you’re building, Amara. That doesn’t change because I kissed you.”
Her chest tightened slightly.
She stood.
“And outside work?”
Tobe’s eyes moved to hers.
“Outside work, I’d like to kiss you again.”
Amara tried very hard not to smile.
Failed.
“That is unusually clear.”
“I’m learning.”
She stepped closer.
“Slowly.”
“Still learning.”
This time, she kissed him first.
Briefly.
Enough to surprise him.
When she moved back, Tobe stared at her.
Amara picked up her bag.
“That was for clarity.”
His hand caught lightly around her wrist before she could move away.
“Amara.”
“Yes?”
“That was not enough clarity.”
She laughed and pulled free.
“You have a dinner.”
“I can be late.”
“You noticed four minutes this afternoon.”
“That was different.”
“Goodnight, Tobe.”
She reached the door.
“Friday,” he said.
Amara turned.
“Friday what?”
“Dinner.”
“Is that another instruction?”
“No.”
He paused.
“Amara, would you have dinner with me on Friday?”
She smiled.
“Much better.”
“Is that a yes?”
“Yes.”
Tobe nodded once, as though they had just concluded a major negotiation.
Amara opened the door.
Tara looked up.
Her eyes moved from Amara to Tobe behind her.
Then back.
Amara pointed at her.
“Don’t.”
Tara lowered her eyes to her laptop.
“I said nothing.”
“Exactly.”
Amara was still smiling when she reached her car.
Then her phone rang.
Her mother.
“Hello, Mummy.”
“Sunday lunch.”
Amara unlocked the car.
“I know.”
“Two o’clock.”
“I know.”
“Not three-thirty.”
Amara sighed.
“Mummy.”
“And wear something nice.”
She stopped.
“Why?”
Her mother was quiet for one second too long.
Amara narrowed her eyes.
“Mummy.”
“Kene is coming.”
Of course he was.
“Our families haven’t had lunch together since he came back,” her mother continued. “His parents are coming too.”
Amara opened her mouth.
Then closed it.
It was family lunch.
Nothing more.
Still, something about her mother’s pleased tone made her suspicious.
“I’ll be there.”
“Good. And Amara?”
“Yes?”
“Don’t come looking like you’re going to a production meeting.”
The call ended before Amara could defend herself.
She lowered the phone slowly.
Friday was dinner with Tobe.
Sunday was lunch with Kene and both their families.
One invitation she wanted.
The other arrangement she was suddenly very suspicious of.
Amara exhaled.
Apparently, her weekend had developed an agenda of its own.
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