Maya had negotiated billion-naira contracts with a steady pulse, but one dinner invitation from Marcus Sterling was enough to affect her composure.
She had already left the office but nervousness hadn't left her. When she got home, she felt a heavy silence in the living room. It was unnatural because Dami and Bolu were in their rooms.
She dropped her keys on the table, the sharp metal echoed in the quiet space, but her mind wasn't in the room. She was still replaying the four simple words over and over.
"Dinner tomorrow night, Maya?"
Maya kicked off her heels near the door and let out a long breath as she walked around the room barefoot on the cold tiles. She removed her blazer and tossed it over to the nearest chair.
She walked over to the window, looking at the sprawling expanse of the Lagos night. Her hands were still trembling slightly when she picked up her phone. She didn't hesitate before dialing. There was only one person she could call when the world stopped making sense.
Elena answered on the second ring, the background noise of her own apartment filtering through the line.
"Tell me we survived," Elena said immediately, skipping any greeting. "I've been tracking the business blogs all afternoon. The Adegoke headline just dropped."
"We survived," Maya said, in a very soft voice, a little softer than usual.
Elena went quiet for a fraction. "Why do you sound like someone just proposed marriage and tax fraud at the same time?"
Maya let out a dry laugh, and turned away from the window. "Marcus asked me to dinner."
Elena let out a loud gasp that came through the speaker, followed by a sound of something she dropped onto the hard surface—probably a pen. "Wait, Marcus Sterling asked you to dinner?" Like a business dinner?"
"No, he said no business discussion. Just a victory lap." Maya murmured.
"Oh, wow," Elena said. Her voice turned serious. "Maya, powerful men don't always separate admiration from possession. You need to be careful here."
"He is not trying to possess me Elena." Maya replied.
"Maybe not consciously," Elena pushed, in a gentle but firm voice. "But he is still your boss, technically. Even with the new title, the power dynamic in that building is built around him. An emotional imbalance in a relationship like that... it doesn't just hurt your heart, Maya. It can erase your career."
He's not like that. Trust me on this." Maya said. The words came out quietly, but they were entirely devoid of doubt.
Elena sighed softly on the other end. "You said that too fast. Which means you're already past the point of objective analysis."
Maya sat down on the edge of her sofa, pulling her knees to her chest. The composure she relied on was slipping tonight.
I'm tired of analyzing him, Elena," Maya admitted. "I spent so long trying to survive him that I didn't notice when he stopped feeling like a threat."
"And what does he feel like now?"
Maya looked down at her bare toes. "Like the only person who actually sees me. Not the title, not the utility. He trusts me with things he doesn't even trust his own board with. When I'm in the room with him, I don't feel like I'm performing. It's exhausting to care this much about someone who can ruin you with a phone call, but... it's real."
Elena didn't respond immediately. For two years, Maya had been a fortress. Tonight, the gates were wide open.
"Well," Elena said after a long pause, her voice lighter now, deliberately pulling Maya back from the edge of emotional overwhelm. "You're blushing. I can literally hear the heat radiating through the network."
"I am not blushing," Maya shot back, though she instantly pressed her palm against her cheek and found it burning.
"You are completely gone," Elena teased, a low chuckle escaping her. "Marcus Sterling finally cracked the ice queen. The man deserves a medal or a corporate audit, I'm not sure which. You're blushing over a man in a suit, Maya. The mighty have truly fallen."
Maya let out a loud, unforced laugh—a rare, sound that she hadn't made in months. It felt good. It felt good to laugh. "Shut up, Elena. I'm still the Director of Strategic Operations."
"Yeah, yeah. Tell that to your pulse rate."
By 7:00 PM the following night, Maya's bedroom was littered with different blazers, trousers and blouses. She was confused about what to wear.
She stood in front of her full-length mirror, wearing a slate-grey shift dress that she reserved for high-stakes presentations. She looked sharp and professional.
But entirely wrong.
'Is this a date? The question kept hammering against her skull. If I wear something too casual, do I look like I'm taking his victory lap too literally? If I wear something too corporate, am I insulting the invitation?' She was trying to figure it out when her door bell rang.
Maya opened the door to find Elena already marching past her, carrying a small garment bag and a makeup kit.
"I knew it," Elena said, taking one look at Maya's grey dress and the disaster area visible through the bedroom door. "You're dressing for an AGM, not a dinner."
"It's safe," Maya defended, closing the door and following her friend into the bedroom.
Elena dropped her bags and began to lift hangers from the closet and tossed them aside one after the other. "Black dress—too corporate. You look like you're going to fire him.
White dress—too innocent, and we both know you've seen too much in that boardroom to play the virgin.
Blue dress—too safe. Safe is boring, Maya."
Elena unzipped the garment bag she had brought with her and pulled out a deep, red silk gown. It was sleeveless, with a clean, asymmetrical neckline that looked incredibly elegant without relying on a single sequin or dramatic cutout.
"Wear the red one," Elena said, holding it up.
Maya stepped back, her eyes widening. "Elena, no. That's... it's too much. It draws too much attention."
"Exactly," Elena said. She walked over and placed her hands on Maya's shoulders, forcing her to look in the mirror. "You've spent two years dressing like you were apologizing for taking up space in his world. You've been hiding behind padded shoulders and high collars so they wouldn't see you as a woman. But you won, Maya. You own your position now. Wear the red one."
The words hit Maya in the center of her chest. It wasn't about fashion; it was about visibility. Stepping into that dress meant stepping outside of survival mode. It meant admitting that she wanted to be seen—not just as an asset, but as herself.
Ten minutes later, Elena was done with her makeup. She kept it minimal. A sharp eyeliner and a lip that matched the dress. Her hair was up, but a few strands had been left loose, softening the sharp angles of her face.
Maya looked at her reflection. She barely recognised herself, she looked soft and beautiful.
Elena left at 7:45PM, after giving Maya a supportive squeeze.
Maya stood by the door, holding her clutch purse, her pulse quickened. The adrenaline was back. It was expectant.
Her phone vibrated, a single message appeared on the screen.
"I'm downstairs."
Maya took one long breath. And For the first time in a very long time, she wasn't walking into a battle. Somehow, that terrified her more than any war ever had.