DARA'S POV
I have seen beautiful things in my life.
A full pot of stew on Sunday afternoon.
A NEPA bill that actually makes sense.
A plate of jollof that whispers to your spirit.
But nothing and I mean nothing prepared me for the sight of Kamsi Okwara stepping out of the black SUV in front of the WhiteArc Hotel.
The man didn't walk.
He glided.
Like the ground owed him softness.
Like the night was created just to reflect off his suit.
And me?
I stepped out behind him, praying my legs would cooperate and not bend like freshly boiled spaghetti.
He offered his arm calm, controlled, confident.
"Ready?" he asked.
Absolutely not.
But I nodded anyway.
The second my hand touched his arm, cameras exploded.
Lights everywhere.
Flashes like mini lightning bolts.
People shouting his name.
Journalists leaning forward like hungry wolves.
Then I heard it:
"Sir! Over here!"
"Mr. Kamsi, is this your fiancée?"
"Ma'am, can you confirm the wedding date?"
Wedding date?
I nearly died.
Kamsi leaned down and whispered into my ear, "Smile."
My brain melted.
But somehow, I smiled
not because he said so,
but because his voice brushed my skin like silk dipped in sin.
We stepped onto the red carpet and I instantly understood why celebrities cry in their bathrooms.
The attention was suffocating.
People stared at me like I was holding the winning numbers for Baba Ijebu.
Kamsi stopped for a photo.
His hand slid around my waist.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Hot.
My breath hitched.
"Relax," he murmured.
Relax?
With your hand gripping my waist like that?
Sir please, respect my heart rate!
We entered the main event and I swear the air changed.
Conversations paused.
Heads turned.
It felt like every pair of eyes in the room tried to swallow us.
Or swallow me, specifically.
The whispers started immediately:
"That must be her…"
"She's pretty, but where is she from?"
"Temporary staff, I heard. Don't know how credible…"
My stomach knotted.
Kamsi leaned down again, voice low enough to melt bone.
"Ignore them. You're with me."
The way he said it made my heartbeat misbehave.
We made a slow circle around the room, greeting business partners and investors.
Well... he greeted.
I smiled like the polite piece of furniture I was pretending not to be.
Then she appeared.
A woman in a red dress so tight that it must have been stitched directly onto her skin.
Tall. Elegant. Beautiful in a way that made other women question their life choices.
She walked straight to Kamsi like a mission from the Ministry of Problems.
"Kamsi," she purred, touching his arm a little too long.
"I didn't know you were bringing… company."
Her eyes dragged over me, not up and down just down.
My smile evaporated.
"Good evening, Chioma," Kamsi said politely, removing her hand from his sleeve with the calmness of someone who didn't want drama.
But Chioma wasn't done.
"So this is your… fiancée?" she asked, looking at me like I was a bag of rice someone smuggled into a wedding.
Before I could reply politely, she added,
"She's cute. Very… local."
LOCAL???
Is she mad???
I took a deep breath.
Smiled sweetly.
Then said, "Thank you. I didn't know women still wore 2018 lipstick shades in 2025. You're so confident."
Her smile fell a little.
Kamsi choked.
Actually choked.
Someone walked by offering champagne.
He grabbed one like he needed spiritual support.
Chioma narrowed her eyes at me.
"Oh. You're bold."
"Only when necessary," I said, still smiling like an angel with a cutlass.
Then something unexpected happened.
Kamsi slid his arm around me firmly, possessively.
"She's more than bold," he said, looking directly at Chioma.
"She's perfect."
I froze.
Perfect?
Perfect??
My heart attempted a somersault.
Chioma's smile cracked.
She muttered something polite and walked away, but I barely noticed.
Because Kamsi was still holding me.
Tight.
Close.
Like he didn't want to let go.
I whispered, "You didn't have to say that."
He looked at me really looked at me.
Soft.
Dark.
Dangerous.
"I meant it," he said quietly.
And for the first time tonight…
I forgot we were pretending.
KAMSI'S POV
People think being CEO means being powerful.
I know better.
Most days, it feels like walking into a room full of predators with me being the biggest one, so they hide their teeth better.
Tonight was no different.
Except tonight, I wasn't walking in alone.
When Dara stepped out of the SUV, time paused.
The cameras.
The lights.
The noise.
All of it faded.
All I saw was her.
Simple black dress.
Soft makeup.
Nervous eyes that pretended to be confident.
She looked nothing like the women in this world of curated perfection.
She looked real.
And dangerously… beautiful.
I offered my arm mostly for the cameras, but a part of me the part I never listen to wanted to feel her hand in mine.
When she touched me, something stupidly primitive tightened in my chest.
"Ready?" I asked her.
She nodded, but I could feel the tremor in her hand.
She wasn't ready.
She was terrified.
And for a moment, I wanted to turn around, take her away, shield her from all this madness.
But I needed her.
And worse… I wanted her beside me.
So when the cameras began flashing, I did the only thing I could.
I slid my hand around her waist.
Public gesture.
Necessary for the act.
That's what I told myself.
But the warmth of her body, the way she held her breath, the way her skin reacted to my touch…
It didn't feel like acting.
"Relax," I murmured.
A lie.
Because I was anything but relaxed.
Inside the main event room, the whispers started immediately.
The stares.
The judgments.
The silent questions.
I could feel Dara shrinking beside me, and something dark and protective surged through me.
I leaned down and whispered, "Ignore them. You're with me."
Her heart skipped.
I felt it through her arm.
Damn it.
I shouldn't feel pride at that.
But I did.
Then Chioma appeared.
Red dress.
Calculated smile.
A woman who once tried to be part of my life and failed.
She touched my arm without permission.
I wanted to remove her hand immediately, but I kept my expression diplomatic.
"Kamsi," she said, voice dripping with fakeness.
"I didn't know you were bringing… company."
I resisted the urge to sigh.
She looked at Dara like she was assessing a discount item at a luxury store.
I hated that look.
"So this is your… fiancée?" she asked.
I felt Dara tense beside me.
Before she could speak, Chioma added,
"She's cute. Very… local."
Local?
The disrespect was sharp, deliberate, and meant to provoke.
I almost shut it down myself
But Dara beat me to it.
"Thank you," she said sweetly.
"I didn't know women still wore 2018 lipstick shades in 2025. You're so confident."
I choked on air.
Actually choked.
No woman in my world would dare talk to Chioma like that.
For the first time in years… I wanted to laugh.
Chioma's smile cracked.
Good.
I felt something spark in my chest something I hadn't felt in a long time.
Pride.
Interest.
A dangerous attraction.
Without thinking, I slid my arm fully around Dara's waist, pulling her closer.
Not for the cameras.
Not for the contract.
Not for the merger.
For me.
"She's more than bold," I said, staring directly at Chioma.
"She's perfect."
The moment the word left my mouth, I knew I had crossed a line.
Perfect isn't a word I use.
Not for anyone.
Not lightly.
Chioma left in a huff, but I barely noticed.
Because Dara was still in my arms.
Still close.
Still looking up at me with those eyes that made breathing suddenly feel optional.
She whispered, "You didn't have to say that."
I looked at her.
Really looked at her.
At her courage.
Her fire.
Her softness.
Her quiet strength.
And I said the truth.
"I meant it."
Her breath caught.
And in that moment, with the world watching…
I realized the real threat wasn't the merger.
Or the press.
Or my past.
It was Dara.
And the terrifying possibility that this pretend engagement was starting to feel real.
Too real.