CHAPTER ONE
STAR
If nerves had a voice, mine would have shattered every window in the car.
Dele's hand covered mine as we rolled past the mansion gates. The compound opened up like a magazine spread: cream walls, polished stone floors, palm trees swaying in perfect formation. Quiet money. The kind that doesn't need to announce itself.
"This is just temporary," Dele murmured, "until things calm down at home."
I nodded, pulse racing. Temporary or not, I had never set foot anywhere this grand even my last university Where I got a scholarship can not compare to this.
He parked beneath the wide veranda. The moment I stepped out, warm air wrapped around me—clean, green, expensive.
That was when I saw him.
Headphones clamped over his ears, silver laptop balanced on his thighs. He bobbed to a rhythm only he could hear.
He looked up, spotted us, and smiled wide.
"Dele, aren't you going to introduce the masterpiece?" he called, unfolding himself to his full height.
Dele laughed. "Star, meet the baby of the house—"
"Leave my property," the guy said, deadpan.
I froze.
Dele cracked up.
Then the stranger dropped the act. "Welcome, Star. I'm Dooshu. You'll survive us. Probably."
I decided I liked him immediately.
Inside, Sariki appeared first—tall, razor-eyed, scanning me like he was pricing my organs. No smile. No greeting. Just evaluation.
Osimhen trailed behind him, clutching a bag of plantain chips.
Dele made the introductions.
Osimhen grinned. "Welcome to the circus."
Sariki gave me one last sweep, then turned to Dele. "I have a client. I'm out." He was already walking away before the sentence finished.
Dooshu leaned in. "He's a lawyer and if he really hated you, you'd have received a single raised eyebrow that translates to 'remove this person from my sight.' You're fine."
I exhaled. Good to know that was just his resting face.
"So you're the one who finally tamed Dele," Osimhen teased.
Tamed. I almost laughed out loud. I hadn't even tamed myself.
Before I could answer, a horn blared—long, arrogant, impossible to ignore.
Dooshu groaned. "Golden boy's home."
A black Range Rover glided through the gates like it owned gravity. The gateman scrambled to open the passenger door. Two stunning girls stepped out first, then him.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. Hair that looked deliberately slept on. A Roman numeral tattoo crawled up the side of his neck.
And his eyes.
One ocean-blue. One forest-green.
My heart forgot its rhythm.
He tossed his keys toward one of the girls.
She caught them, annoyed. "I'm not your driver."
"My bad," he said, voice lazy. "Hard to tell sometimes."
He moved toward us with the calm arrogance of someone who'd never been told no. When he reached Dele, the mask slipped; they grabbed each other in that loud, back-slapping hug only guys seem to perfect.
Then those mismatched eyes landed on me.
Slow. Deliberate. Head to toe.
"Who's this?" he asked, like I was an object on display.
Dele beamed. "Star. My girlfriend. Star, meet Chidera."
The smirk froze on Chidera's face.
Silence stretched, thick and uncomfortable.
I offered a small wave, smile turning plastic.
"Your standards are in free fall, bro," he said.
It wasn't loud. It didn't need to be.
The air changed. Dooshu coughed into his fist. Sariki's lips twitched. Osimhen looked at the floor like it might save him.
I tilted my head, smile still in place.
Who hurt you, pretty boy?
Chidera's gaze didn't waver. "It speaks," he noted, almost curious. Then, softer, "I assumed you were decorative."
Decorative.
Dele's arm slid around my waist—protective, possessive—but I kept my eyes on Chidera.
Something flashed across his face. Irritation, maybe. Recognition? I couldn't tell.
He looked away first.
Osimhen cleared his throat and herded us inside. As we moved, I caught Chidera murmuring something to Dooshu. Sariki joined them, sliding a slim book into Chidera's hand. Chidera's expression darkened while he flipped through it.
Suspicious.
"Your girlfriend's staring," Chidera said without lifting his head.
Dooshu elbowed him. "Manners."
Chidera rolled his eyes and walked off with Sariki toward the car. The gates opened; they disappeared in a low growl of engine.
I glanced at the two girls still hovering by the Range Rover. Dooshu's entire demeanor flipped—sunshine gone, ice in its place.
"You can come in or roast out here. Your call," he told them coolly. "But you're not guests. Don't touch anything. Don't ask for water. I won't get it."
Dele nudged him. "Manners."
Dooshu shrugged, then turned to me with the warmest smile in his arsenal. "Come on, Star. Let's get you settled."
I followed, head spinning from the personality whiplash, but grateful at least one person in this house seemed to like me.
—
THE NEXT MORNING
Sunlight slipped through the curtains in gentle blades. The house was still asleep. I tied my scarf, padded to the kitchen, and let the familiar rhythm of cooking quiet everything else.
Onions hissed. Garlic popped. Peace.
Footsteps eventually shuffled in.
Dele's arms circled my waist from behind. "Marry me right now," he whispered into my neck.
I smiled. "You said that about my jollof pictures for three years. Now you're experiencing it live."
Dooshu appeared, eyes half-mast, hair rebelling in twelve directions. "Tell me Osi didn't cook and this smell is real."
"Morning," I said.
Sariki strode in, already dressed like he was due in court. "Please confirm Osimhen had nothing to do with—"
He stopped when he saw me at the stove.
"It's safe," I assured him.
"You cook," he stated, like he was adding it to a mental file.
"Very," Dooshu answered for me. "No one here cooks except Chidera, and he uses pepper like he's trying to summon something."
Chidera cooks? Interesting.
Osimhen tumbled in next, sniffing dramatically. "I thought I died and woke up in food heaven."
Then—a door upstairs slammed hard enough to rattle the cutlery.
"I said leave."
Chidera's voice, cold and lethal, sliced through the house. Rapid footsteps, then the two girls from yesterday hurried down the stairs, clutching handbags and dignity in scraps. He followed, shirt half-buttoned, curls wild, tossing a wad of cash at them like confetti.
"Uber's outside."
They fled.
He dropped into a chair, scrolling his phone with the boredom of a king.
"Morning," Dooshu tried.
"Yep," Chidera muttered.
A call came through. Instantly he was someone else—voice clipped, precise, dangerous. When he hung up and looked at the spread on the table, his brow lifted.
"Hope Osi didn't touch this."
Osimhen threw his hands up. "You people need to put respect to my name "
Chidera tasted a spoonful. Paused.
"Not bad."
Osimhen clutched imaginary pearls. "He complimented food. Record it."
"Needs pepper," Chidera decided, already reaching for the shaker.
"No" everyone shouted to protest—too late.
"Anyway," Dooshu said loudly, "Star cooked."
Chidera froze mid-chew. Those mismatched eyes snapped to me.
I smiled sweetly and poured orange juice for Dele.
Then a wicked thought crept in my mind
"Uh no!" I gasped hiding my smile " I hope you didn't eat from that plate?" I said, all innocence. "I saw rats in my room last night. And i added something extra."
The dining went silent.
Chidera looked at the food. Looked at Dele. "She's joking."
Dele scratched his head, confused then he looked at me and caught my grin he used his hand to cover his face hiding his smile then he straightened his face. "Babe, what do you mean ?"
Chidera wiped his mouth slowly with a napkin, expression unreadable.
I grinned. "chill I added nothing."
Laughter exploded—Osimhen actually wheezed.
Sariki gave a rare smirk and raised a glass cup . "Welcome star, you're officially in."
Chidera stood, plate in hand—three extra pieces of meat now on it point a finger at me "I never liked you" I smirked, like I care? —and he headed for the stairs,
"Want juice?" Osimhen called.
"Yeah," Chidera answered without turning. "Maybe she'll poison that one properly next time."
I watched him go.
Halfway up the stairs he stopped.
Turned.
Looked straight at me.
No smirk. No mockery.
Just a long, searing stare that promised this was only round one.
Something hot and electric sparked low in my stomach.
This war wasn't over