The Rules
1154 Words
Zara stared at the signed contract in front of her.
She had expected to feel relieved.
Instead, she felt like she'd just made the biggest mistake of her life.
Damian closed his pen and slipped it into his pocket.
“You can still change your mind.”
Zara looked up.
“You just watched me sign a marriage contract.”
“I did.”
“And now you're telling me I can change my mind?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because once we register the marriage, changing your mind won't be as simple.”
Zara studied him.
For a man who had just convinced her to marry him, Damian seemed strangely calm about the possibility of her walking away.
“There's something you're not telling me.”
“There are several things I'm not telling you.”
At least he didn't lie.
Zara gathered the papers.
“Then let's establish something.”
Damian raised an eyebrow.
“I don't like surprises.”
“That may be difficult.”
“I'm serious.”
“So am I.”
She placed the contract between them.
“If we're doing this, I need rules.”
Damian leaned back.
“Go ahead.”
“Separate bedrooms.”
“Agreed.”
“Separate finances.”
“Already included.”
“No interference with my work.”
“You're currently unemployed.”
“I won't be unemployed forever.”
A faint smile appeared on his face.
“Fine.”
“And you don't get to control who I speak to, where I go, or what I do.”
“As long as you're not putting yourself in danger.”
“There you go again.”
“You have a habit of investigating things that could get you killed.”
Zara's expression hardened.
“I'm not afraid of your family's secrets.”
“You should be.”
She ignored the warning.
“One more thing.”
“What?”
“If we're going to pretend this marriage is real in front of people, you don't touch me without my permission.”
Damian's expression didn't change.
“Agreed.”
Zara nodded.
“Good.”
He stood.
“Anything else?”
She thought about it.
“No.”
“Then we're finished.”
Zara blinked.
“That's it?”
“What were you expecting?”
“I don't know.”
“A romantic speech?”
“No.”
“Good.”
He picked up his jacket.
Zara followed him toward the door.
“Where are you going?”
“Home.”
Damian stopped.
“You're coming with me.”
She stared at him.
“I thought we had separate bedrooms.”
“We do.”
“Then why am I going with you?”
“Because we're getting married tomorrow.”
Zara's eyes widened.
“Tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
“You said we had time.”
“I said you had until yesterday to decide.”
She groaned.
“This is happening too fast.”
“You agreed.”
“I didn't agree to tomorrow.”
Damian opened the door.
“You agreed to the contract.”
Zara followed him out.
“I hate you already.”
He glanced at her.
“You'll survive.”
---
The drive to Ikoyi was painfully quiet.
Zara sat in the back seat, staring out of the window.
Lagos moved around them in its usual chaos.
Cars squeezed through gaps that barely existed.
Hawkers moved between vehicles.
A bus stopped without warning.
Someone honked.
Someone else honked back.
Zara almost smiled.
It was strange.
She was on her way to marry a billionaire, yet Lagos traffic remained exactly the same.
Her phone vibrated.
Halimah: Where are you?
Zara typed quickly.
With Damian.
The reply came immediately.
WHY???
Zara smiled despite herself.
We're sorting out the marriage.
Three dots appeared.
Then:
I'm coming to your house.
Zara quickly typed:
Don't. I'll explain later.
She put the phone away.
Damian's voice came from the front.
“Halimah?”
Zara looked up.
“You know her?”
“I know who your closest friend is.”
“Of course you do.”
He didn't respond.
Zara looked out of the window again.
That feeling returned.
The feeling that Damian knew far too much about her.
---
The house in Ikoyi was exactly what she expected.
Huge.
Quiet.
Immaculate.
The kind of place that didn't look lived in.
Zara stepped out of the car and looked up.
“How many people live here?”
“Usually, two.”
“You and?”
“Me.”
She frowned.
“Then why is this place so big?”
“It's my house.”
“That isn't an answer.”
Damian walked toward the entrance.
Zara followed.
Inside, everything was elegant without being excessive.
Marble floors.
Neutral furniture.
Large windows overlooking a perfectly maintained garden.
A housekeeper appeared.
“Good evening, sir.”
“Good evening, Mrs. Grace.”
Her eyes moved to Zara.
Damian didn't hesitate.
“This is Zara.”
Mrs. Grace smiled.
“Your wife?”
Zara nearly choked.
Damian looked at her.
“Yes.”
The word sounded strangely final.
Your wife.
Zara looked away.
Mrs. Grace smiled again.
“Welcome home, ma.”
“Thank you.”
Damian walked upstairs.
Zara followed.
He stopped at the end of the hallway and opened a door.
“This is your room.”
Zara stepped inside.
It was beautiful.
Too beautiful.
A large bed.
A walk-in wardrobe.
A balcony.
She looked at him.
“You prepared this?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“A few days ago.”
She turned around.
“A few days ago?”
Damian didn't answer.
Zara's suspicion returned.
“You knew I was going to agree.”
“No.”
“You're lying.”
He looked at her for a long moment.
Then he said quietly,
“I was prepared for either answer.”
Before she could respond, he walked away.
Zara closed the door.
She sat on the edge of the bed.
Something was wrong.
She could feel it.
Damian had known too much about her life.
He had prepared a room before she agreed.
He knew about her brother.
He knew about her financial problems.
He knew about her investigation.
And somehow, she had just agreed to become his wife.
Her phone vibrated again.
This time, it wasn't Halimah.
Unknown number.
Zara opened the message.
Congratulations, Mrs. Adeyemi.
Her heart stopped.
Another message followed.
You have no idea whose family you've married into.
Zara stood.
She looked toward the bedroom door.
Then at the message again.
A third text appeared.
Ask Damian what happened to your father.
Zara's fingers went cold.
Her father had been dead for twelve years.
At least, that was what she'd always believed.
She stared at the screen.
For the first time, the marriage didn't feel like a deal anymore.
It felt like a trap.
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