DARA'S POV
When a billionaire tells you to name your price, you'd think you'd immediately develop sense.
Me? My sense packed its bags and relocated to Canada.
I didn't sleep that night.
Not even a minute.
Every time I closed my eyes, I heard his voice again
"Pretend to be my fiancée. One month. Name your price."
The words rolled around my head like stubborn akara balls refusing to settle.
By morning, I'd woken up three times thinking it was a dream.
By the fourth time, I accepted my life had entered one-chance.
At exactly 8:03 a.m., I stood in the lobby of BlackShield Holdings, hands sweating, mind vibrating, chest doing call-and-response with anxiety.
Everyone stared at me differently today.
Like I was no longer the contract staff who printed documents and drank Milo like it was blood tonic.
Now I was "Madam CEO's Fiancée"… at least according to gossip.
Even the receptionist greeted me with new respect, like the air around me suddenly upgraded to VIP.
"Good morning, Miss Ezenwa," she said with a knowing smile.
Good morning?
Just say, Shall I start curtsying now, ma?
I rushed into the elevator before my life become a comedy skit.
When I stepped into Kamsi's office, he was already there
standing by the window, Lagos skyline painting his silhouette like a scene straight out of a billionaire romance webnovel.
Tall.
Still annoyingly handsome.
Still calm like someone whose life wasn't trending on social media.
He didn't turn when I entered.
Just said, "Sit."
I sat.
My heart?
It refused.
"I assume you didn't sleep," he said, still looking out at the city like he owned every building.
"How did you know?" My voice cracked.
"Because you look like someone who fought with her dreams and lost."
He finally turned.
Our eyes met.
My stomach executed a World Cup goal celebration.
"I need an answer," he said.
I inhaled.
Exhaled.
Prepared my soul.
"I'll do it," I said.
Kamsi nodded once, like he expected nothing less.
"So," he said, sitting across from me,
"name your price."
Right.
The part where I sound confident.
I lifted my chin. "Sir—"
"Kamsi," he corrected.
That name in his voice…
I suddenly forgot what I was supposed to say.
"Kamsi," I tried again, "I don't want anything outrageous. Just something to cover"
"Your rent?" he finished.
"Your mother's hospital bills? Your course fees?"
I froze.
"What. how do you know that?"
He tapped the file on his desk.
"I run a company, Dara. I check the background of anyone who affects my public image."
Heat crawled up my neck.
So he knew everything.
My financial struggle.
My late payments.
My quiet suffering.
I felt naked.
Exposed.
But also… seen.
"I don't want pity," I whispered.
His eyes softened.
Not pity.
Understanding.
"I'm not offering pity," he said.
"I'm offering partnership. A deal. You help me secure the merger. I help you breathe again."
The honesty in his tone made my throat tighten.
"So tell me," he continued. "What do you need?"
I swallowed hard.
Thought of Mum's medication.
My overdue rent.
My dream of taking the online certification course I've been postponing for two years.
"Five million," I whispered.
"Enough to clear everything and reset my life."
He didn't even blink.
"Done."
Just like that.
My entire life's problems solved with one word.
I felt dizzy.
This wasn't real.
It couldn't be.
"You'll get it in installments," he added, professional again.
"Weekly transfers. So it doesn't look suspicious."
My brain was still rebooting.
"Also," he continued, "we need rules."
He handed me a printed contract.
I read:
Rule 1: No emotional attachment
I coughed.
Rule 2: No jealousy
I choked.
Rule 3: Keep physical contact minimal & only for public appearances
My cheeks burned.
Rule 4: Maintain professionalism at all times
I glanced at him.
He pretended not to notice.
Rule 5: No falling in love
My heart?
It laughed in Yoruba.
"You agree?" he asked.
I tried to sound normal. "Yes."
"Good. Our first appearance is tonight. A press dinner."
I nearly fainted. "Tonight?"
He nodded. "Wear something elegant. Not flashy. Black, gold, or emerald suits you."
Don't worry, I will ask my assistant to get you ready.
My eyebrows shot up. "How do you know what suits me?"
He held my gaze.
"I pay attention to details."
Something hot skipped across my chest.
Attention.
Detail.
Him looking at me, noticing me…
Before my imagination could disgrace me, he stood.
"We're in this together now," he said quietly.
And for a moment…
Just a moment…
He didn't sound like a CEO.
He sounded like a man asking me not to leave him alone in this.
I took a deep breath and stood as well.
"I won't mess this up," I said.
His lips lifted in the smallest, softest smile I had ever seen on his face.
"You won't," he said.
"I knew that the moment you fell into my arms."
My ears grew hot.
My heart forgot its duties.
Then he added:
"See you tonight… fiancée."
My soul left my body.
KAMSI'S POV
Her effect on him.
People think CEOs wake up every morning feeling powerful.
They don't realize half of leadership is pretending you aren't drowning.
This morning was one of those mornings.
The merger deadline was suffocating me.
Investors breathing down my neck.
PR teams panicking.
Shareholders expecting god-like perfection.
And on top of everything, a blurry photo of me and Dara had turned the country upside down.
My phone hadn't stopped ringing since 6 a.m.
"Settle down."
"Stability image."
"Marriage signals growth."
"Engaged CEOs attract global trust."
Every sentence was a chain.
Then, for ten seconds, the office became quiet.
And I felt her presence before she even stepped through the door.
Dara.
Small, stubborn, infuriatingly beautiful Dara.
I didn't look at her immediately.
Not because I didn't want to.
But because I wanted to too much.
Instead, I kept my eyes on the skyline and said, "Sit."
Her nervous energy filled the room like static electricity.
I could feel her heartbeat from across the table.
I shouldn't have cared.
But I noticed everything when it came to Dara.
The way she fiddled with her fingers.
The way she inhaled sharply before speaking.
The way she looked at me like I was both intimidating and… something else.
The truth?
She made me feel human.
And that was dangerous.
"I assume you didn't sleep," I said.
She looked offended.
But she shouldn't be.
Her eyes were tired.
Her voice shaky.
Her soul exhausted.
Part of me
a part I don't show anyone
wanted to pull her into my arms and tell her she didn't have to be this strong.
Pathetic.
That part of me needs to die.
"I need an answer," I said instead.
Cold. Professional.
Safe.
When she said, "I'll do it,"
I felt relief punch the air out of me.
Not because of the merger.
Not because of the strategy.
Because she said yes to me.
Then came the part I underestimated.
"Name your price."
She froze.
Not like the others who usually triple their demands when offered a blank cheque.
Dara froze like she wasn't used to wanting more.
Like life had trained her to shrink.
She didn't know it, but I had already read her file twice.
Her mother's hospital bills.
Her struggles.
Her delayed course fees.
It wasn't pity.
I just… can't stand wasted potential.
And she is more brilliant than her CV.
So when I listed her problems, she looked at me with that wounded pride of hers.
"I don't want pity," she whispered.
A strange ache crawled up my chest.
"I'm not offering pity," I told her.
And for the first time in years, my voice softened without my permission.
"I'm offering partnership."
She swallowed hard.
Her eyes glistened.
I looked away before I forgot why emotional distance is necessary.
Then she said the amount.
"Five million."
I almost laughed.
Not out of mockery.
But because she asked for the bare minimum.
Anyone else would've said fifty.
"Done," I said.
And it was done.
What her voice didn't say… her eyes screamed:
Why are you helping me this much?
She doesn't know what it feels like to want to protect someone you have no business protecting.
Then came the rules.
The part meant to preserve boundaries.
Rule 1: No emotional attachment.
My hand hesitated when typing that one.
Rule 5: No falling in love.
That one?
That was for me not her.
I watched her read them.
Her cheeks burned.
She looked anywhere but at me.
Then she agreed.
And somehow… it didn't feel like a victory.
It felt like stepping onto a tightrope a thin, dangerous line.
"Our first appearance is tonight," I said.
Her panic was adorable.
I pretended not to notice.
Then she asked, "What should I wear?"
I shouldn't have known the answer.
But I did.
"Black, gold, or emerald suits you."
She looked shocked.
Because she doesn't know I've noticed every dress she's worn since she stepped into my company.
Noticed… and liked.
"See you tonight," I told her.
Then, before my sanity could pull me back, I added,
"…fiancée."
The word slid out too easily.
Too naturally.
She froze.
Her breath caught.
And for a full second, the world stilled.
When she left my office, the air felt emptier.
I leaned back, closed my eyes, and dragged a hand through my hair.
This was supposed to be a clean business arrangement.
Cold.
Strategic.
Controlled.
But nothing about Dara is controllable.
And I have a terrible, sinking feeling that one month might not be enough to keep my heart in check.