chapter 4
1103 Words
Amara Bello made one terrible mistake.
She told herself coffee with Adrian meant nothing.
Which was exactly why she somehow ended up back at his café three days later.
Purely accidental, obviously.
Completely unrelated to the fact that she now knew the exact time the evening rain usually started and how warm the café lights looked through the windows afterward.
Very normal behavior.
“You’re smiling at your phone again.”
Amara looked up sharply from her desk.
Daniel stood near her office door holding documents and an expression full of judgment.
“I’m not smiling.”
“You literally sighed at your screen.”
“I was breathing.”
“Sure.”
Amara grabbed the papers from him. “What do you want?”
“To remind you we have a client dinner tonight.”
Immediately, her mood dropped.
“Right.”
Daniel noticed instantly. “You hate client dinners more than traffic.”
“Because they’re fake.”
“Everything corporate is fake.”
“Exactly.”
He studied her for a second. “You seem distracted lately.”
“I’m busy.”
“You’re usually busy and terrifying. Now you’re just… weird.”
“Thank you.”
“You wore perfume today.”
Amara blinked.
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“You only wear perfume when you care about someone noticing.”
Her eyes narrowed dangerously.
“Get out.”
Daniel grinned while backing toward the door. “You met a man.”
“I hate all of you.”
Unfortunately, she was beginning to suspect everyone around her had functioning eyes.
—
That evening, the Bello family home looked exactly like wealth and emotional repression.
Elegant chandeliers.
Perfect flowers.
Expensive silence.
Amara adjusted the sleeve of her black dress as she walked downstairs.
Her mother noticed immediately.
“You’re late.”
“It’s seven o’clock exactly.”
“And yet somehow still late.”
Typical.
The dining room buzzed with conversation from business partners and family friends dressed in designer clothes and carefully curated smiles.
Her father stood near the bar discussing politics.
Her mother monitored the room like a queen inspecting soldiers.
Amara loved them.
But sometimes being around them felt like performing.
“You look nice tonight,” her father admitted as she approached.
“That sounded painful for you.”
“It was.”
Her mother gave Amara an approving glance. “Finally wearing something elegant.”
Amara rolled her eyes lightly. “Good evening to you too.”
Before another comment could happen, the front doors opened again.
And suddenly—
everything changed.
Amara froze.
No.
Absolutely not.
Walking into the Bello home beside one of her father’s business associates was Adrian.
Adrian.
In a black suit.
Looking unfairly attractive and entirely too calm.
For one horrifying second, their eyes met across the room.
His expression shifted immediately.
Surprise first.
Then amusement.
Then something warmer.
“Oh no,” Amara whispered.
“What?” Teni texted instantly after receiving the accidental voice note.
Too late.
Her mother followed Amara’s gaze toward the entrance.
And the atmosphere in the room changed instantly.
Cold.
Sharp.
Deadly.
Mr. Bello’s smile vanished.
Across the room, Adrian’s relaxed posture straightened slightly.
The older guests exchanged uncomfortable looks.
And suddenly Amara understood.
The Coles.
Adrian Cole.
Oh.
Oh, this was bad.
Very bad.
Her mother spoke first, voice smooth enough to hide the tension beneath it.
“Richard invited them?”
One of the guests cleared his throat awkwardly. “It was a last-minute business addition.”
Mr. Bello’s jaw tightened visibly.
Across the room, Adrian said something quietly to the older man beside him before his gaze returned to Amara.
He still looked calm.
How was he still calm?
Amara wanted to disappear into the floor.
Instead, Adrian started walking toward her.
No.
No no no.
Surely not.
Every step he took felt illegal.
Amara could practically feel her parents preparing for war beside her.
When Adrian finally stopped in front of them, the silence around the room became painfully obvious.
Then, with terrifying confidence, he smiled slightly and said:
“Amara.”
Her mother looked between them immediately.
“You know each other?”
Nobody moved.
Nobody breathed.
Amara’s brain abandoned her completely.
“We met accidentally,” she said too quickly.
Adrian’s eyes flickered with amusement.
“Twice,” he corrected.
Traitor.
Her father stepped forward now, expression unreadable.
“You’re Nathan Cole’s son.”
Not a question.
“Yes, sir.”
Sir.
Interesting.
The tension between both men felt old.
Heavy.
Personal.
Adrian remained polite, but Amara noticed something shift in him too — less playful now, more careful.
Her mother folded her arms. “I didn’t realize the Coles were part of this deal.”
The room went quieter somehow.
Adrian answered calmly. “Neither did I.”
And for the first time since meeting him—
he sounded tired.
Not relaxed.
Not teasing.
Just tired.
Amara suddenly realized something uncomfortable:
The hatred between their families exhausted him too.
One of the older guests awkwardly interrupted. “Perhaps we should all sit—”
“No,” Mrs. Bello said sharply.
Amara closed her eyes briefly.
Fantastic.
Just fantastic.
Her father’s voice stayed controlled. “This isn’t the place.”
“But it is the same people,” her mother replied coldly.
Adrian glanced at Amara briefly before looking back at her parents.
“I’m not here to cause problems.”
Mrs. Bello gave a humorless smile. “Problems seem to follow your family naturally.”
Okay.
That was hostile.
Amara looked toward Adrian automatically, expecting sarcasm or irritation.
Instead, he simply nodded once.
Like he was used to it.
And somehow that hurt to watch.
“Mom,” Amara said quietly.
Her mother ignored her completely.
The guests now pretended not to listen while absolutely listening.
Lagos rich people loved drama more than oxygen.
Finally Adrian adjusted his suit sleeve calmly.
“Well,” he said softly, “this explains why Amara looked ready to kill me when we met.”
Amara stared at him.
He was joking.
At a time like this.
And somehow—
somehow—
her father almost smiled.
Almost.
The tiny reaction disappeared instantly, but Amara noticed it.
So did Adrian.
Interesting.
“You should leave,” Mrs. Bello said finally.
Silence.
The words landed heavily.
Adrian’s expression didn’t change.
But Amara felt something twist painfully in her chest anyway.
Because for the first time, she saw it clearly:
This wasn’t ordinary dislike.
This was war.
And she was standing directly in the middle of it.
- Writer
