Chapter Seven
1334 Words
Outside the Office
Amara knew she was in trouble when she started recognizing Tobe’s presence before she looked up.
He arrived early for their second session.
Dark trousers. White shirt. Sleeves folded neatly to his forearms. No jacket.
By now, he knew where her office was.
He walked in without needing directions.
Amara looked up from her laptop. “There are rules about entering people’s offices.”
“Page three?”
She stared at him.
He sat opposite her.
“You’re never going to let that go, are you?”
“Probably not.”
The supplier problem took over quickly.
Amara had contacted three alternatives after their previous discussion.
Tobe reviewed the figures.
“None of these solves the lead-time problem.”
“I know.”
“There’s a fourth supplier in Lekki.”
Amara looked up.
“I arranged a meeting.”
Her expression changed.
“You arranged a meeting?”
“Yes.”
“Without asking me?”
“You can cancel it.”
“That isn’t the point.”
“What is the point?”
“You’ve been here once and suddenly you know what Chisom can supervise?”
Tobe paused.
Then nodded.
“Fair.”
Amara’s annoyance weakened slightly.
He continued. “The meeting is in forty minutes. You can still say no.”
She looked at the supplier information again.
The terms were worth examining.
“Fine.”
Tobe stood.
“Good.”
“Normal people ask if someone wants a ride.”
“You’re already coming.”
“That is not asking.”
“You got in last time.”
“That is also not asking.”
Twenty minutes later, she was in his car.
Amara checked her phone.
Then again.
On the fourth time, Tobe glanced over.
“Leave it.”
“I run a company.”
“So do I.”
“You have people.”
“So do you.”
She looked at him.
“You really have no life outside work, do you?”
“I have a life.”
“Do you schedule breathing?”
“I delegate it.”
Amara laughed.
Music played softly through the car.
She listened for a few seconds.
“This sounds like an expensive hotel elevator.”
Tobe looked offended.
“Get out.”
“You’re driving.”
“I’ll stop.”
She laughed again.
A few minutes later, she glanced at him.
“You’re different outside the office.”
“Different how?”
“Less terrifying.”
“I’m not terrifying.”
“That is exactly what terrifying people say.”
His mouth shifted.
Amara caught it.
“There. That.”
“What?”
“You almost smiled.”
“You imagined it.”
“Of course.”
At Mr Salako’s facility, Tobe did something Amara had not expected.
He stepped back.
He introduced her as the client and allowed her to lead.
She asked about capacity, lead times, quality control and delivery.
When Mr Salako directed a technical answer towards Tobe instead of her, Tobe’s expression remained calm.
“She’s the client.”
Mr Salako immediately turned back to Amara.
Something warm settled in her chest.
The negotiation lasted nearly an hour.
By the end, Amara had secured a ten percent reduction and an agreement that the supplier would absorb delivery costs above an agreed volume.
Tobe did not interrupt once.
Outside, he looked at her.
“You didn’t need an adviser in there.”
Amara smiled. “I’ll inform the programme.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
“You handled him well.”
“Thank you.”
“You didn’t rush to fill silence. You let him negotiate against himself.”
She tilted her head.
“That sounds suspiciously like praise.”
“It is.”
Amara blinked.
Tobe opened the car.
“You did well.”
There was something about the simplicity of it that stayed with her.
Then the rain came.
Heavy.
Sudden.
Unreasonable.
Lagos.
Amara looked through the windscreen and remembered the back window at the studio.
Her stomach dropped.
“The window.”
Tobe looked at her.
“What?”
“The back window doesn’t close properly.”
“And?”
“The finished pieces are near it.”
She grabbed her phone and called Chisom.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
Tobe turned the car around.
“You don’t have to—”
“We’re going.”
By the time they reached the studio, the rain had become a wall.
Tobe came around with an umbrella.
They hurried towards the entrance.
Amara stepped badly on the wet pavement.
Her foot slipped.
Tobe caught her.
One arm went around her waist.
Her hand landed against his chest.
Everything stopped.
Not the rain.
Not the traffic.
Them.
Amara looked up.
Tobe was already looking at her.
His hand remained at her waist.
Her palm remained against his chest.
Too close.
Far too aware.
“AMARA!”
Chisom’s voice broke through the moment.
Amara stepped back so quickly she nearly slipped again.
Tobe caught her elbow.
“Careful.”
“I’m fine.”
Chisom opened the door.
“The clothes are fine! One of the machinists remembered the window.”
Amara closed her eyes.
Relief.
Inside, she checked the garments anyway.
Dry.
Safe.
Nothing ruined.
When she returned, Tobe’s white shirt was damp at one shoulder.
Amara looked at it.
“You ruined your shirt.”
“I held the umbrella over you.”
“I didn’t ask you to.”
“You also fell.”
“I slipped.”
“You stepped incorrectly.”
She stared at him.
“That is the most annoying possible description.”
“Progress. A moment ago you stepped incorrectly.”
Amara laughed despite herself.
“Coffee?”
Tobe looked at her.
“Water? Tea? Human warmth?”
His mouth moved.
“Still not on the agenda.”
They waited at the studio while the rain softened.
Tobe made a brief call and rearranged something on his schedule.
When it was finally safe to leave, Amara reached for her bag.
“I can get home.”
“I’m taking you.”
“My car is here.”
“You can collect it tomorrow.”
“Tobe.”
“Amara.”
She stared at him.
Then sighed.
“Fine.”
He drove her home.
The ride was quieter than the journey out.
Not uncomfortable.
Just different.
Amara was too aware of the man beside her.
Of the hand that had caught her.
Of the moment under the umbrella.
At her house, she unfastened her seat belt.
“Thank you.”
“For?”
“The supplier meeting.”
He nodded.
“And the rain rescue.”
“You mean the consequences of your shoes?”
Amara looked down at them.
“My shoes were fine.”
“You nearly fell.”
“I did not fall.”
“Because I caught you.”
She opened the door.
“You’re unbearable.”
“Wear sensible shoes next time.”
Amara stepped out.
“Goodnight, Tobe.”
“Goodnight, Amara.”
He waited until her door closed before driving away.
Later, after a shower, Amara lay in bed and thought about the rain.
The umbrella.
His arm around her waist.
Her hand against his chest.
Her phone buzzed.
Tobe.
Did you eat?
She stared at the message.
Is this part of the advisory programme?
Answer the question.
Yes.
Good.
And wear sensible shoes next time.
I DID NOT FALL.
Goodnight, Amara.
She smiled at the screen.
Then another message arrived.
You negotiated well today.
Across Lagos, Tobe put his phone down and returned to the document in front of him.
He read the same paragraph twice.
Then a third time.
He remembered Amara laughing in his car.
Her hand against his chest.
The expression on her face when he told her she had done well.
Tobe leaned back.
This was becoming inconvenient.
And for the first time—
he wasn’t entirely certain he wanted it to stop.
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