THE MAN LAGOS THINK I STOLE

Chapter Six – Terms and Conditions

The conference room smelled like glass cleaner and cold air.

I noticed because my heels slipped slightly when I stepped inside.

Xander was already there.

Not standing. Sitting. Jacket off. Sleeves rolled just enough to be deliberate. The screen behind him was dark, waiting.

He looked up when I entered, eyes scanning me the way people scan exits.

“You came,” he said.

“I didn’t come for you,” I replied, pulling out a chair. “I came to hear what you’re not saying over the phone.”

A muscle jumped in his jaw. He gestured to the seat opposite him.

I didn’t take it. I sat beside him instead.

That earned me a look.

“Don’t,” he said quietly.

“I’m already here,” I said. “We can skip the choreography.”

He exhaled through his nose and reached for the remote. The screen came alive.

A timeline. Headlines. Blurred photos. Names I recognized. Some I didn’t.

My name was there. Smaller. But present.

“You’re trending,” he said.

“I noticed,” I replied. “Someone threatened me.”

“They tested you,” he corrected. “That message wasn’t meant to scare you. It was meant to see if you’d respond.”

I didn’t say anything.

He glanced at me. “You responded.”

I shrugged. “I don’t like bullies.”

“That’s not courage,” he said. “That’s visibility.”

He clicked again.

A photo appeared. Taken from behind me. Outside my building. Last night.

I leaned forward despite myself.

“Who took that?”

“Someone who wants you nervous,” he said. “And me distracted.”

I laughed once. Short. “Congratulations. It worked.”

Xander leaned back, studying me like a problem he didn’t want to admit had variables.

“You’re angry,” he said.

“I’m unemployed,” I replied. “There’s a difference.”

“They’ll call you back.”

“When?”

“When this stabilizes.”

I turned to face him fully. “You keep using that word like it’s a place.”

“It is,” he said. “And you’re currently outside it.”

I stood up.

“Then maybe you should find someone else to stand in the mess with you.”

He didn’t move. Didn’t raise his voice.

“You’re not walking away,” he said.

I smiled. “Watch me.”

I reached for my bag.

“Amara,” he said, sharper now.

I paused. Not because he said my name. Because he said it like a warning.

“You leave,” he continued, “and the narrative fills itself.”

I turned slowly. “So this is about control.”

“This is about survival,” he said. “Yours. And mine.”

“Funny,” I said. “I don’t remember agreeing to merge those.”

He stood then.

The room felt smaller when he did.

“You didn’t,” he said. “But the world did it for us.”

He reached for a file on the table and slid it toward me.

“Read.”

I didn’t touch it.

“What is it?” I asked.

“A solution.”

“That word again.”

“Read,” he repeated.

I opened the file.

Photos. Statements. Drafts. A schedule.

And a headline mock-up that made my stomach drop.

XANDER VALE CONFIRMS RELATIONSHIP AMID RUMOURS

I looked up slowly.

“You’re joking.”

“I don’t joke with crises.”

“This is insane,” I said. “You think pretending to date you fixes this?”

“It reframes it,” he said. “You’re no longer a loose end. You’re a partner.”

“A prop,” I snapped.

“A shield,” he corrected. “People hesitate when they think they know the story.”

I closed the file. Hard.

“No.”

He nodded once, like he’d expected that.

“Say no again,” he said, “after you hear the terms.”

“I don’t need”

“You do,” he cut in. “Because this is already moving.”

He turned the screen back on.

Another photo appeared. This one clearer. My face.

Taken today.

I frowned. “I didn’t see anyone.”

“You weren’t meant to.”

My phone buzzed in my bag.

Once.

Twice.

I pulled it out.

Unknown number.

Smile more next time.

My fingers tightened around the phone.

Xander watched my face change. Didn’t interrupt.

“This isn’t protection,” I said quietly. “This is bait.”

“Exactly,” he said. “And we decide who swallows it.”

I laughed again, breathless. “You’re unbelievable.”

“You’re still standing here.”

“That’s not consent.”

“No,” he said. “It’s leverage.”

I walked to the window. The city stretched below, busy and indifferent.

“Say I agree,” I said. “What do I lose?”

He didn’t answer immediately.

When he did, his voice was lower.

“Privacy,” he said. “Autonomy. The right to disappear.”

I turned back. “And what do I gain?”

His eyes held mine.

“Time,” he said. “And control over how this ends.”

I looked at the file again.

The schedule was precise. Public appearances. Limited interviews. Clear boundaries.

Too clear.

“You’ve done this before,” I said.

“Yes.”

“And how did it end?”

His mouth tightened. Just slightly.

“It ended,” he said.

My phone buzzed again.

This time, a photo.

Me. In the conference room.

Taken from outside the glass.

I felt something cold settle in my chest.

Xander saw it.

“They’re closer than I thought,” he said.

I looked at him. Really looked.

“You don’t need a girlfriend,” I said. “You need a decoy.”

“And you don’t need a contract,” he replied. “You need distance.”

We stared at each other.

The city moved on below us.

I picked up the file.

Not because I agreed.

Because I needed to know how bad it could get.

“Seven days,” I said. “Trial run.”

Xander raised an eyebrow.

“Public only,” I continued. “No private access. No rewriting my life.”

He considered it.

Then nodded. “Seven days.”

I extended my hand.

He took it.

His grip was firm. Professional. Too steady.

As he released me, his phone buzzed.

He glanced at it, then frowned.

“What?” I asked.

He turned the screen toward me.

Another headline draft.

Different wording.

Different angle.

WHO IS AMARA REALLY HIDING FROM?

I exhaled slowly.

“Looks like we’re already late,” I said.

Xander’s jaw set.

“Then we start now.”

And just like that, the lie stepped into daylight.