Chapter 7: The Sharks Bed
532 Words
The penthouse was on the 47th floor. Of course it was.
Floor-to-ceiling windows. Lagos spread out below us like Khalil Adeyemi owned it. Maybe he did.
The door locked behind us with a final, fatal click.
"Your room is down the hall," he said, shrugging off his suit jacket. "Second door on the left."
Relief flooded me. Maybe the closet was just—
"Where you'll keep your clothes," he finished. "You sleep here. With me."
The relief died.
"Khalil—"
"Mrs. Adeyemi," he corrected, voice calm as he unbuttoned his cuffs. "We had a deal. My bed. My terms. Or I call the board at 9am and tell them Anon defrauded them."
My phone was still blowing up. Kemi: `MINISTER IS WAITING. ANSWER.` Dami: `We need to talk. Now.`
My whole life was on fire. And the man holding the extinguisher wanted payment in flesh.
"There's three bedrooms," I tried. "This is—"
"Irrelevant," he said. He was in just his dress shirt now, sleeves rolled up, forearms like carved mahogany. The Shark was undressing. And I couldn't look away. "You wanted ten million. This is what ten million buys, Zara. Me."
He walked toward me. Slow. Predatory. Every step was a choice I didn't get to make.
"I can sleep on the couch," I said, backing up until my legs hit the bed. His bed. King-sized. Black sheets.
"You can sleep where I tell you to sleep," he said. He stopped in front of me. Too close. He smelled like danger and expensive cologne. "Because if Dami goes to the press tomorrow with 'Anon is Khalil's secret wife', I'll need you in my bed when the cameras show up. Believable. In love."
He wasn't wrong. And I hated that.
"One last negotiation," I whispered. "We share the bed. Nothing else. Not until—"
"Until what?" His head tilted. "Until you trust me? Until you want me?"
His hand came up. I flinched. He just tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. The gesture was almost gentle. It was worse than if he'd hit me.
"You want me now," he said quietly. "You kissed me like you hated me. That's how I know."
He wasn't wrong about that either.
"Get on the bed, Zara."
It wasn't a request.
My phone buzzed again. The Minister. The board. Dami. Fifty billion naira.
And here, a man who could destroy all of it with one phone call.
I had built NairaFlow by being smarter than every man in every room.
But I'd never been in a room with Khalil Adeyemi.
I kicked off my heels. And climbed onto his bed.
His eyes went dark. Victory.
He reached for his belt.
And my phone rang.
The screen lit up between us.
`MAMA 💙`
Incoming call.
My cancer-ward mother, who I was doing this for.
Who thought her daughter was just a nice girl who married rich.
Khalil stared at the phone. Then at me. On his bed.
And for the first time tonight, Khalil Adeyemi, The Shark, looked... uncertain.
"Answer it," he said finally.
And I realized:
The Shark had teeth.
But I just found his weakness.
And her name was Mama.
- Writer
