CHAPTER 3: THE SHOP VISIT
924 Words
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The bell on my shop door hadn’t rung once all morning.
Not until 11:47am.
And when it did, it wasn’t a customer.
She walked in like she owned the place.
6-inch heels. Designer bag. Hair blown out to perfection.
And the same beach photo from IG as her profile picture.
Chloe Adele.
Ex of 3 years. Daughter of a senator.
And my worst nightmare in Louboutins.
“Miss Okoro,” she said, smiling. Too sweet. “I’m Chloe.”
I was wiping dust off a vase. My hands didn’t shake.
“I know who you are.”
“Good.” She looked around Nice’s Haven. “Cute. Very... Mile 1.”
The insult landed, but I just nodded.
“What can I do for you? Decor consultation is 20k. Advance payment.”
Her laugh was sharp. “You think I came here to hire you?”
She picked up a throw pillow. Put it down. “I came to give you advice.”
“Don’t need it.”
“You will.” She leaned on my counter. “Damien doesn’t do relationships.
He does contracts. Just like you.”
My chest tightened. “This is different.”
“Is it?” She pulled out her phone. Swiped.
A video. Damien at a gala last year. Arm around her. Whispering in her ear.
“To my forever,” he mouthed.
The video was 2 years old. But it still felt like a punch.
“He said that to you too?” Chloe asked softly. “In the car?
‘We’re in love.’ He practices that line.”
I set the vase down hard. “Did you come here to cry or to talk?”
“I came to save you embarrassment.” She slid a card across the counter.
“My lawyer. When he drops you in 2 weeks, you’ll need him.
The NDA is brutal, by the way. You won’t even get to keep the ring.”
The door opened again.
Damien.
In a tailored navy suit. Sunglasses in hand.
His eyes went from me → to Chloe → to the card on the counter.
His jaw ticked.
“What are you doing here?” he asked Chloe. Voice low. Dangerous.
Chloe turned, all innocence. “Babe! I was just congratulating your fiancée.
She’s so brave. Taking on the Cole family with a Mile 1 shop.”
“Don’t call me that,” Damien snapped.
“Babe, the internet is eating her alive. I thought I could help.”
She touched his arm. He stepped back.
“Leave,” he said.
Chloe looked at me. Smiled. “See you at the Gala, Tasha.
Try not to trip on the red carpet.”
Then she walked out. Heels clicking like a countdown.
Silence.
“You okay?” Damien asked. Finally looked at me.
“No,” I lied. “I’m fine.”
He picked up the lawyer’s card. Tore it in half.
“She’s lying. About the NDA. About me.”
“Are you?” I asked before I could stop myself.
“The video looked real.”
Damien ran a hand through his hair. Frustrated.
“That was 2 years ago. Before she cheated. Before my father died.”
He looked at me. “I don’t practice lines, Tasha. Not with you.”
My heart did that stupid thing again.
“Come on,” he said. “We have work.
Board meeting in 1 hour. You’re meeting them as my fiancée.”
My stomach dropped. “Today?”
“Today.” He held out his hand. “Rule 4, remember?
Act in love.”
I stared at his hand. Big. Warm. Safe.
I took it.
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The Cole Group tower was 30 floors of glass and intimidation.
12 board members. All men. All over 50. All staring.
Damien introduced me. “Tasha Okoro. My fiancée.
She’ll be co-hosting the Cole Foundation Gala.”
Whispers. Judging looks.
One man cleared his throat. “Mr. Cole. With all due respect.
Is this... appropriate? Given the timing?”
Damien’s grip on my hand tightened.
“Is what appropriate? That I found someone?
Or that she’s not from your country club?”
Silence.
The meeting was about the Gala budget. 200 million naira.
I sat there, smiling, nodding, while they questioned every flower choice I suggested.
“Maybe we should hire a professional event planner,” someone said.
“I am a professional,” I said quietly. “And I’m not backing down.”
Damien looked at me. Proud.
“Then it’s settled. Tasha leads decor.”
After, in the elevator, he finally exhaled.
“You did good.”
“So did you,” I said. “For not punching that guy.”
He almost smiled. Almost.
My phone buzzed. Email.
Subject: _COLE FOUNDATION GALA - VENDOR LIST_
And an attachment. Photos of me.
Me at 17. Working at a roadside stall.
Me crying at my dad’s funeral.
Me with an eviction notice.
Sender: _Unknown_
Body: _The board should see who you’re really marrying. #GoldDigger_
I dropped the phone.
Damien picked it up. Read it. His face went dark.
“They’re trying to ruin you before the Gala,” he said quietly.
“But they picked the wrong girl.”
He pulled me into his arms. No cameras. No audience.
Just his jacket and his heartbeat.
“Rule 2 is off,” he whispered in my ear.
“For you. Only you.”
The elevator dinged.
And standing in the lobby, phone out, recording...
was Chloe.
---
- Writer
