The Wedded Whore

THE WEDDED WHORE A novel by Ugochukwu Kingsley Ani

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The Wedded Whore is a work of fiction. At such, all the characters and the places used in this book are all imaginary. All the characters in this book, should they bear any resemblance to persons living or dead are purely coincidental, as they are all the products of the author’s imagination or are used very fictitiously.

Copyright © 2015 by Ugochukwu Kingsley Ani All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any mechanical or electronic means, including information storage and retrieval systems without the prior written permission of the author.

Cover Image: By Anita Brown Cover Illustration © 2015 by Adrian Banks © 2015 by Ugochukwu Kingsley Ani Except from Affair with the Dancer © 2015 by Ugochukwu Kingsley Ani

The Wedded Whore: A celebrity novel/ Ugochukwu Kingsley Ani ISBN- 13: 978-1519147615 ISBN- 10: 1519147619 The moral right of the author has been asserted

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For Barkings, for making this possible. Thank you, always. And may your soul rest in peace . . . Thanks, Nony; you too made it possible.

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THE WEDDED WHORE

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PROLOGUE

The room was vast and packed with men. On a raised dais were live band players. A female voice belted out the lyrics of some song at high pitch. Obinna had his back to the dais but he was strongly aware of the pop song that was being sung by the most sonorous voice he’d ever heard. The voice was a very feminine voice that had the tunes right on, and the entire patrons and the women of the crowded bar were all nodding their heads to the sound of the voice.

The singing stopped abruptly. And then the music changed, from the upbeat sounds that were being belted out by the sonorous voice to an exotic Eastern beat that was seductive. The lights had dimmed. Simultaneously, all the men held their breath. Astonished, Obinna glanced around wildly so he could understand why the men were acting so strangely, and when his eyes fell on the girl who’d emerged as if conjured up from a puff of smoke, he understood the reason for the instantaneous enchantment.

She stood there, her back turned to the room, her body draped from neck to toes in a veil of shiny tulle. There were jewels ringed on her arms, so long they almost formed a percussion band; there was a snake bracelet draped around her biceps, and she looked like something that had been conjured up from a dream.

The veil covered her, and there was the sight of a long, glorious body hidden in the material she’d covered herself with. Her head was tilted back, and there was her hips moving and undulating in a slow, seductive rhythm that was as enchanting as it was exoteric.

It was like watching a very long snake move languidly through the room, and she could move; she seemed to flow, from one move to the other, and it was as if she was oblivious to the people in the room. There was a mystery to her 5

moves, as if she was performing a very slow, very sexy ritual only she was privy to.

She turned, and the light played on the jewels that were entwined in her long, glorious hair; it played on the heavy kohl that lined her eyes, and her body seemed to shimmer with reflected light in the semi-dark room. She was wonderfully tall, fair-complexioned; with full breasts that strained against the thin material of her dress, with the tulle veils straining against the luscious body that had been so carefully covered, and yet so artfully revealed; deliciously long legs that seemed endless, but it was her chiseled face that drew the most attention. It drew the eyes, and held it, causing uneasiness and even a shiver of shock to pass through the beholder of such beauty.

Her chiseled face was framed in long raven black hair that was like black satin against her fair complexion, a very straight, narrow nose, pouty, provocative lips that were outlined in a slash of red and high cheekbones that accentuated her stunning facial bone structure. She was astonishingly beautiful, and she seemed magical, like a sea nymph or a sylph that had come to the earth to wreck havoc on the male folk. Hers was the type of beauty that needed no physical enhancements for her maintain it Mesmerized, Obinna leaned forward. ‘Wow!’ he exclaimed.

Seemingly oblivious to the shock she’d caused in the room, she continued to move, her bones twisting and turning with a languid flexibility that seemed a vision of its own. Then the first veil came down, and if a pin had dropped in the room, it would have sounded like a bomb_ the room was so still and silent. The light-skinned body was revealed just a bit, and her bones were delicate, and beautiful, and there was a flawless perfection to the body that made her ravishing. Then came the second veil, and there was the red velvet gown that clung to the perfect body like a second skin; the outline of the perfect body was now visible, and when the final veil came down to her feet, the lights played on her.

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She looked dazzling.

And she turned and twisted, still almost seemingly oblivious to the crowd, and the spectators were twisting in their chairs, all eyes straining to see her every move, her every body language. She looked like a sea goddess dancing to the tunes of some musical number, a tribute from her worshippers.

The girl suddenly stopped and swayed slightly on her feet as though drunk, and then she stood stock still. The men applauded, all of them drawn and entangled in her web of allure and seduction. Oblivious to the thunderous applause, the girl shook her beautiful head this way and that to the steady beat of the music while her long black hair swirled round her face like a cloud.

‘Wow!’ Obinna exclaimed to his companion, Richard, as they all watched this dancing flame of fire and epitome of beauty as she worked her art with a sexy grace that held the eyes unblinkingly to her face. ‘That girl is marvelous and great. Look at her! Just look at her!’

Richard nodded, his eye still glued to the dais. ‘Yeah. I know how marvelous she really is. She’s a singer, an agile dancer, and I hear that sometimes, though rarely, she doubles as a whore in order to earn some extra cash for herself. I really do not even know why a girl as beautiful as she is should stay here, performing a striptease for a bunch of leering men when she could go and be a model or a singer.’

The girl glanced around wildly, as though lost, or as though she had forgotten her surroundings, but to Obinna, she looked as though she were testing the air for a scent of prey she could pounce on. Her luminous eyes scanned the dense crowd of men, hovering over the man seated next to Obinna, and then rested on him with a mesmerizing intensity that made him gasp. She held him in her gaze, and to him it was like being stared down by a huge animal of prey which had come on down to devour him. And her fingers moved across her face, her lips parted, and the smile that was revealed flashed blindingly

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white against the red paint of her lips. But never for once did her gaze waver from his face.

She looked at him and he looked at her; or rather, he was trapped in her gaze while she held him mesmerized in her grasp. It seemed as if the very universe had shifted, that this stunningly beautiful seductive dancer was the only thing that was now visible in his universe. The shock of her gaze held him entranced, and though she was still making her exotic dance moves with the fluidity of a snake, she seemed not to be moving of her own voluntary free will, that her body was controlling itself independently of her will.

That was when she took off her red velvet gown, or rather, the gown seemed to slip from her at some silent command from her, and she stood before the spell-bound audience dressed now in nothing but a red bra and a small red wrap that covered her from waist and then on past her buttocks. There was a collective gasp from the appreciative audience, for she had the kind of shape that would tempt even a Buddhist monk into giving up his vows and taking her right there and then.

There was the luscious curve of her hips, the type some women would kill for, and there was the curve of her full, firm, high breasts that stood out on her chest like sirens that beckoned for some attention. With the black hair, the stunning face and the bone structure, and the killer shape she had under the nothing thing she wore, she was the physical embodiment of every straight man’s wet dream.

Totally unaccustomed to such intense stares, and such stunning, glorious beauty, with the accompanying performance and the snaky feel of it, Obinna stood up and headed for the door because her gaze had shocked him and had his heart thumping. Unfortunately, he couldn’t seem to get out fast enough; his progress was painfully slow, and he could hear the cheers of the men as they screamed their encouragement at the girl_ it seemed as though she’d come to the end of her shock act.

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And then finally, he emerged on the wide corridor, and he heaved a sigh of relief. He had really enjoyed himself here at the Happy Day club which was surprising because it was situated at Ajegunle, one of the slums of Lagos State.

And the only reason for that was because of the performance of this girl.

Whoever the hell she was, she had the looks, she had the power and the magnetism, and she had the sensuality to trap any man she sunk her clutches into to do anything she wanted him to do for her.

He was breathing heavily, and he knew that the loud palpitation of his heart was due to the fact that the stunning dancer had worked some sort of invisible charm on him to make him lose half his senses and have him thinking about the dark rim of her almond-shaped eyes, and the curve of those kissable red lips, and the swell of that killer shape she had below her flat midriff which had given him an erection the very moment he’d laid his eyes on them.

Running his fingers through his blunt-cut hair, he heaved a big sigh as he thought to himself what a blessing it would be for him to flee from the sin this young exotic dancer was trying to lead him into and run back to his parents’ house so he could enjoy a few days of quiet before he packed up his things and left the country for the continuation of his studies.

He turned, and then he felt his muscles freeze into rigidity as a shudder ran through him and the ice was dropped into his bowels. God, there was no escaping the sin that oozed from this place like the pus from a festering wound.

Leaning against the wall, smiling and staring at him with her mesmerizing, luminous eyes, was the girl. Her eyes seemed hard and very cold as she trapped him in her gaze once again.

‘Hello, sugar,’ she said. Her voice was low, and very sweet, like chocolate, and there was a glint in her eyes. She walked towards him with a measured sway of her provocatively curvy hips. ‘See anything you like, my dear?’ she asked. She was smiling at him again, knowing that she had him in her grasp.

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He was staring at her. There was something about her that was totally seductive, and could transfix any man with desire. Scowling with frustration at the welcome prospect of his body’s reaction to her, which he so did not wish to act upon, he forced a smile. She smiled right back, and he was immediately done in. ‘How much?’ he asked her.

‘For a man with a purse as deep as yours, I think 5000 NGN per hour will suffice as a reasonable price.’

‘I’ll pay you 8.’

Adamma stifled a gasp and then she spread her rosy lips in a smile of silent sexual victory over him. She had not spent two years in this nightclub without detecting the signs and strange aura of power and sureness of their superior status that emanated from men of blue blood who dabbled effortlessly in wealth.

As she had performed her on the stage_ for her singing and dancing was her art_ her hunter’s instincts had switched on of their own volition, and she’d pandered to it by scanning the dense crowd of men that worshipped at the altar of her beauty. And then there he was, standing out from the others like a wild rose in a field of plain white daisies. There was something that was completely innocent and enchanting about him, and then there was the wealth that he stank of; he was the perfect prey.

She led him off gently down the corridor to a room she always reserved from the club_ free of course_ and for the better part of an hour, she willingly submitted herself to the sensuous delights and throes of sheer, mindless ecstasy that were being dished out to her by her gorgeous new lover in one of the club rooms that had been specially designed for that purpose.

He had a wonderfully sculpted body that was designed for sex, and, thankfully, she was also supremely gifted in the act, all thanks to the wellthumbed copy of the famed Kama Sutra in her possession which she devotedly devoured day and night for insight and inspiration.

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He reached for her, drawing her into his muscular arms, and then his lips claimed hers. They kissed for a long time, and then, hand-in-hand, they went to the small bed. There, as they stood before the bed, she undressed herself slowly, and when she stood naked before him she undressed him, with the same slow reverence with which she’d attended her own clothing. To her eyes, he was beautiful from head to toe, a perfect male specimen that any woman below the age of seventy would undoubtedly die for, and she pressed her lips to the thatch of dark hair that nestled above his erect penis.

And the organ was really huge, a living pole of muscle that shot out in between his legs like some monster that demanded gratification from her. And she was willing to give him value for the money he was paying to her for her just for a few minutes of passionate sexual tryst with her.

‘You’re beautiful,’ she whispered. And it was true, for he was really wonderful-looking and gorgeous.

She kissed him down there, and then she made him kneel down so she could kiss his lips. And he tasted so good, so clean, and the taste of berries was all she could feel. The sensation of kissing him and touching his hard, muscular body, was so entrancing to her senses, she could do nothing else.

He opened his mouth to say something, then thought better of it and kissed her instead, his tongue swirling around hers in a masterful caress that almost had her begging for more. Finally, he pulled himself away and chocked out, ‘What about our protection?’

She smiled at him in reassurance. ‘I am quite free of diseases, but, as a matter of policy and precaution, we don’t do it without protecting ourselves, so there are wraps of condom in the drawer by the table.’

She watched him take a wrap of condom, and then, he slipped the lubricated material up the erect shaft of his tumescent penis. He came over to her, and then he kissed her once again, his lips claiming hers in a French kiss that was quite unlike any she had encountered before. He pulled her down 11

gently to the bed, kissed her reassuringly, and then he guided his throbbing cock into the wet mound of her womanhood that wanted instant gratification from the stranger and began to fuck her.

His hips moved slowly at first as he kissed her patiently, and then he moved faster, his hips pounding her with a passion and force she’d never known before, and occasionally she’d stroke his back to slow him down. But the sculpted Adonis was insatiable, and the moans of ecstasy he emitted echoed through the room, and she moaned with him, matching him cry for cry. When she was sure he was about to climax_ she’d been timing him in her mind, ticking the seconds off as they passed, he stopped and flipped her over so she was now on her hands and knees then he fucked her from behind.

As he fucked her, he stroked her breasts, fondled and pinched her erect nipples, and kissed her back. He turned her over again so she lay facing him, and he continued to fuck her, his eyes glued to hers, the wanton desire in them unmistakable. And then he cried out, and she smiled to herself, knowing she had brought him to shattering orgasm that rocked his body.

Her own pleasure swamped her, and she held him and cried out as waves of orgasmic pleasure swept through her in waves. Finally, she sank down, boneless, on the mattress, her long hair spread out on the bed.

The act over, she managed to extricate her supple, lithe body from the embrace of her lover and then she donned on her dress once again with deliberate slowness while he watched her, with desire smoldering in his dark eyes. Turning to him, she held out one well-manicured hand for her money which he surrendered gracefully.

Obinna smiled at her, a salacious glint in his eyes. ‘A wonderful night spent with a girl I don’t even know her name,’ he said to her, his voice accusatory.

‘Adamma,’ she managed to say, though very reluctantly, managing to infuse an arctic blankness into her luminous eyes. Certainly, she thought to 12

herself, if the no-good, morally bankrupt man thought he could browbeat her into a long-time commitment by merely flashing currency notes in her face, then the man was in for a rude awakening. It was the rule of the game that the girls should never, under any circumstances whatsoever, try to get themselves entangled with the men they had sex with in any way.

Unaware of the condemnation she’d washed over him, Obinna savored the sound and feel of her esoteric name in his consciousness. It was a strange name, which was peculiar to Eastern Nigeria, and which meant Daughter of Beauty.

And it certainly suited her, for she was indeed beautiful.

He then embarked upon an arrogant estimation of her worth. ‘My dear girl, I know you’re somewhat in need of money, so I’m offering you another night of pleasure at my house before I travel out to London, England, to continue with my studies and other pursuits. And I wouldn’t refuse such an offer if I were in your shoes.’

‘I’m definitely at your service, sir,’ Adamma snorted, her voice heavy with derision. ‘The address, please?’ she asked, hating this man’s guts and arrogance, with the sureness and confidence that went with it. But then, she would really not have expected anything less from him; she would have been very disappointed in him if he was one of those men that were simpletons, doing anything they possibly could to fake the nice guy when they were not.

Obinna withdrew a translucent card which was pale blue in color and then handed the card to her, their fingers brushing together in a way that sent the electricity whispering through him.

‘I’ll be expecting you to be at my place at seven tomorrow so that we can have dinner together before we get down to action. In two days’ time, I’ll be leaving the country to go to England, so I’d like us to make the most of our brief acquaintance. Until then, I’ll say adieu to you and goodbye.’ He bowed over her beautiful hands and then turned to don on his rich couture and then leave the room.

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Adamma was still smiling as she watched the handsome stranger wear his clothes and leave. She didn’t bother to get a piece of identity from him. Not even his name. She knew that if she was stupid enough to get herself committed to him in any imaginable way, then she’d be chaining herself down to a new unbreakable bondage.

And not just to any man but a handsome, self-seeking jerk of a man who had flicked his eyes over her, concluded that she was in dire need of his finances, and peremptorily ordered her to make an appearance at his house and entertain him with her body services. But she knew that the sculpted Adonis was right; she did need his money. And he sure was a real piece of work, she thought; someone she would have loved to know under different circumstances.

But that was not possible.

She was somehow convinced beyond doubt that she was never going to see the young man ever again, and as there was the very unlikely chance of there being any repercussions of their lovemaking because he’d protected himself with condoms, she tore up his card and then emptied the torn pieces into the nearby trash can.

What she took no notice of was the fact that the condom had a very small, unobtrusive and unnoticeable leakage.

What she also was totally oblivious of was the fact that a new page had been written in her life.

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CHAPTER ONE

Adamma strode purposefully towards the hotel manager of the Palace Hotel, the venue where she was going to perform for the hotel’s rich, glamorous patrons and patronesses. The frown marring her stunning features, and the fire in her eyes were enough evidence of the fiery outrage and blazing anger she felt towards the simpering man who’d dared to publicize the performance without first seeking her consent. Now, the throng of screaming fans in the hotel lobby that had been demanding for autographs was more than enough for her to manage.

‘You stupid sod!’ she exploded at him, indignation flaring through her the moment she was standing before the pot-bellied man. ‘How dare you announce everything to everybody? You even had to involve the press! Now, the massive turnout of people is more than enough for my peace of mind. It was supposed to be a private concert!’

‘Calm down, madam,’ Mr. Adebayo tried to pacify her, smiling with reassurance. ‘It’s nobody’s fault that it leaked out. I tried to stop it from leaking out, but somehow, it did manage to slip through. And even at that, you’re supposed to be happy about it because it somehow serves as free publicity for you.’

Looking at the face that was smiling at her with such charmed arrogance and smug pleasure at her discomfort, Adamma lost her temper which she’d firmly clamped down. Her mind awhirl with sheer anger, her senses burning with venomous fury, she exploded and aimed a stinging slap at the smiling face.

But in the back of her mind, she knew that she would stop before her hand got to his face or she would face the full fury of the press.

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However, the thought never formed fully and her hand never found its mark. Her soft hand was imprisoned in mid-air in an iron grip that made her gasp, and then drawn down to her side.

‘I am so deeply sorry, my dear girl, but I will not allow you to slap my manager in full glare of the public. That would undoubtedly make me lose face in this Lagos, yes?’

Her body rigid with shock, Adamma whirled around and faced her unwelcome assailant. It was a totally unexpected shock that she would hear that voice again. It had been so long but yet . . . it was a totally unexpected shock that she would hear that low, drawling voice again. Even after more than a decade, her mind had frog-jumped with dizziness at the prospect of seeing him again. This man, here, right before her vision . . . Her thoughts had flowed across her face, a clear procession from initial bewilderment, through dawning realization, to scandalized horror. Jesus, it was him.

Her heart was hammering wildly in her chest, but, recalling her scattered wits, she let a mask of impassivity mask her face as she asked, in the sweetest tones she could muster, ‘Oh, does this hotel belong to you? Or do you work here?’

‘It is mine, my dear girl; it most certainly belongs to me,’ the lean man replied, his eyes glued to hers in challenge. At thirty-four years of age, Obi Obiekwe was a highly successful businessman who was constantly hailed as the youngest, most eligible businessman in the Lagos fashionable society. He was stinking wealthy, a ruthless man who cut down whatever adversaries that dared to stand in his way. That he was looking into the eyes of this woman, the one who had occupied his nightly fantasies for well over a decade, was impossible.

He had searched for her unendingly but had always met with a brick wall of failure that promised no success.

Recognition flared in her luminous eyes which widened dramatically, but she immediately extinguished it. Her face became an inscrutable mask. ‘And to 16

think that I’ve been reading about you for all these years and yet never knew that I was in a place that bore the stamp of your credentials! It was nice meeting you, but you must excuse me; I’ve got an appointment with my manicurist and my hairdresser. But before that, I have an audience waiting for me. So, if you’ll excuse me. . .’

Turning round, she sashayed her way out of his presence, and the manager did strain his neck to watch her departure. Obi watched her retreating figure appreciatively, his eyes gleaming with mischief and unbridled joy and wonder.

She certainly hadn’t changed in any way or become different from the young flame he still carried a torch for even after ten years.

She was still absolutely stunning; she still had the same luminous eyes that transfixed him with desire and totally mesmerized him; her breasts were full and ripe, and swelled seductively, straining against the fabric she wore; she had obviously maintained her body with diets and strenuous exercise because she still looked sculpted to perfection; her deliciously long legs were amazing, a sight that would have a model frowning with envy. Her attire was definitely haute couture; her sea-green, lime satin blouse was cut very low, revealing an unholy amount of cleavage, and the skirt she wore set off her long legs to advantage. She was every man’s dream and every woman’s nightmare, a sculpted Venus, a creature with a hot body made for the sin of sex.

Turning to the simpering fool who was still gawking after the departing woman, a questioning frown on his face, Obi demanded, ‘And what was she talking about? A concert is taking place here? And what audience was she babbling about?’

‘Well, she first appeared on the screens ten years ago, with her bestselling debut album Promiscuous which subsequently sold more than ten million copies worldwide. People loved her immensely for it, and since then, she’s never looked back, and has remained the hottest in-demand female singer in the country till date. She’s released several singles, and then albums, and she works 17

for charity. She was hailed as the most charitable young celebrity in the country by the president himself.’

His mind reeling with disbelief, his brain awash with the memories of past years, Obi recalled, with total clarity, that his mother had yapped incessantly about the singer and her songs for a very long time. Hope had been filled with nothing but adoration and love for the singer who she claimed was well-loved by adoring fans all over the continent. Hope, with her youthful good looks and energy which rendered her age indeterminate, had tried to coax him into attending one of the singer’s concerts and nationwide tours six years ago, shortly after his return from overseas. However, his response had a polite and chilly refusal.

The tenacious woman, never easily daunted, had gone ahead to procure numerous albums of the well-known singer, and he had invariably listened to them, and had been forced to acknowledge the singer’s irrefutable genius with the microphone.

Turning a frozen look on the manager, Obi embarked on an inquisition as to the time of the performance. ‘And when, if I may be so bold as to ask, is this all-important performance taking place?’

‘Everything will take place right away. The audience is ready for her.’

Waving the man away so he could have time to think, Obi cleared his suddenly agitated mind of the myriad of thoughts that had swept into it, totally unchecked. And he asked himself a searching question: was he still infatuated with the whore? And even if he was, would she give him the light of day now that she was a famous woman who was no longer in need of his petty cash? And, did she remember him even though their affair had been a one-night tryst?

Whether or not she still remembered him was a nagging question he couldn’t get rid of from his mind. He fervently hoped to himself that there was a trace of memory remaining in her mind pertaining to who he was and about the night they had shared together. The reason was because he wanted her once 18

again, yearned for her body passionately. He was attracted to her_ he had been from the first moment he set his eyes on her at that club where she was feeding the fantasies of the men who were there, gawping at her body.

Right now, he wanted to date her and have her back in his arms, but that was highly unlikely, he reasoned to himself. She had to be attached to a man, or she could even be married to another man. No one who was stunningly beautiful like she was could remain single. It was impossible!

Thirty minutes later, Obi walked out of the concert hall, looking dazed and shell-shocked. His mind was reeling from the effects of Adamma’s laudable performance. The sonorous voice, the lithe, flexible body that moved with such grace and power, the agile, seductive steps, and her entire choreography was superb and totally captivating. He had no choice but to dredge up images of that woman, that body which had moved with such captivating grace and sensuality_ the body he had fucked and enjoyed years ago and had asked for more, but she had disappointed him and failed to turn up_ and he was lusting after a taste of her body once again.

This time, the force with which he desired her was stronger and more pronounced than before.

He found her to be irresistible, and, like a dismembered ghost, he materialized at her side when the last throng of her adoring, screaming fans had vanished from her side after she had attended to their requests for photographs and autographs. He was smiling radiantly as he approached her side.

‘My dear girl,’ he drawled, giving her a lopsided grin that he hoped would charm her. ‘I must apologize for my rude manners some time ago. I was only protecting my business interests. And I hope you still remember me. You’ve not forgotten me, yes? ’ Infusing a look of doubt on her face as if he had appeared from the moon, she replied, with the barest hint of civility, ‘I’m sorry, my dear sir, but I have absolutely no inkling of who you are or where you might think we met. As for 19

your arrogance and lack of manners, I’d already forgotten about it, and so, no need to apologize to me. Now, if you’ll be kind enough as to excuse me, I have an appointment with my dance choreographer, so. . .’

Accustomed to such resistance from the members of the opposite sex, Obi spared her a smile, one he reserved for spoilt women who believed so much in the power of their looks and their sex, and he spoke, his voice a throaty murmur that had many a woman panting for sex. ‘If you’ll spare me just a minute of your time, then I’ll enlighten you as to the circumstances surrounding our brief acquaintance.’

‘Oh no, I’m in a hurry and I don’t have the time to waste in idle conversation,’ she snapped, and there was an edge of steel in the wellmodulated tones. She flashed an impatient look on her Cartier Tank watch.

‘Surely, you can state your business here?’

Her repressive tones and icy glare stung his sensibilities like a legion of vengeful bees, he noted dispiritedly to himself. And from the look in those mesmerizing luminous eyes, he was sure she would undoubtedly denounce his existence if he were to prod her mind. Hunting around for a way to upset her equilibrium or even floor her from her vantage point on her high pedestal, he arrived at the conclusion that using a more indirect mode of questioning would yield more positive results.

He fastened a basilisk stare to her face so as not to miss the emotion she would emit when he unloaded his bomb on her. He asked coldly, ‘Have you ever been to a club called the Happy Day club? Do you know that it exists?’

Seemingly unperturbed by his icy glare at her face, she contrived to exude an attitude of polite surprise as she proffered a question of her own in answer to his. ‘And where would such a club be? Is it an exclusive club? Is it famous?’

‘On the contrary, it is an unknown club, but is known for its special pleasures. It’s located at Ajegunle.’

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She smiled ruefully. ‘I’m sorry, but I have absolutely no inkling about the existence of such a club. Well, you’ve had your shot, so I have to go.’

She had lied with a fluency that stunned Obi to shocked silence, and, as she was quite sure of the reins of power and victory being in her hands, she turned and, with a curt nod at him, she walked out of his presence, her long hair flying.

She gave the doorman a curt nod, and then she was walking towards the sleek white Mercedes she had arrived in.

Thunderstruck, Obi watched her slide in behind the wheel after a handsome young dude had opened the door for her, and then the engine kicked to life, and she was driving out of the surroundings of the hotel at great speed.

He marveled at her lying expertise, the audacity she had mustered up and walked out on him as if he was nothing to her, and the bleakness and total blankness with which she had answered his questions. She was the most convincing and talented actress he had ever encountered, and it would be to his benefit to go and regroup before he went again to take on an adversary of her caliber.

His mind was definitely made up, and he was going to continue hunting her until he had her firmly in his trap and in his arms. His mind definitely made up, he spent the next six weeks reading about her, looking for insights as to who she really was. But the chit was more elusive than the famous Siberian Tigers; there was absolutely nothing personal about her that found its way into the papers.

Her personal life was shrouded in mystery, and there was no way he could hunt her down. Obviously, she was one of the rare breed of female celebs who valued their privacy more than anything else. Even his frequent trips to the information superhighway_ the Internet_ yielded no positive results. All he could get was an avalanche of her pictures, news about her career and upcoming performances.

He reviewed all he’d found, a rubbish heap of useless information that led him nowhere, and he realized now that tracking down the singer was now 21

becoming an obsession with him. He had to find her soon, otherwise he’d go crazy.

And then, one bright morning, he went to see his dentist for a ten o’clock appointment so he’d get his teeth cleaned by a professional. He flipped disinterestedly through the pages of the magazine the receptionist had proffered to him fifteen minutes ago after he had walked into the reception area, pretending to be totally engrossed in the glossy pages that depicted the tell-it-all lives and love affairs of the rich and famous of Lagos society.

The plain truth was that he was bored out of his skin; his supreme impatience had taken hold of his senses, and he was itching to enter Dr. Wright’s office for his ten o’clock appointment with the gorgeous mouth doctor who would brandish his magic wand and his mouth would be as good as that of a new-born baby.

‘Mr. Obi,’ he heard the dark receptionist say in her slightly accented, though flawless English. He looked up from the pages of the shitty tabloid and looked towards the reception desk. ‘You may go in now, please. The doctor is ready for you right now.’

He heaved a sigh of heartfelt relief and then turned to the door of the office where his doctor waited for him. What prompted him at that moment to turn to the centre pages of the magazine, he would never know, but when his eyes fell on the photo of the stunning woman that graced the page, a smile lit up his countenance.

There, in the middle of the page, was a photo of the elusive singer he had been trying unsuccessfully to track down. She was standing in front of a beautiful bungalow, and two little kids, who appeared no more than ten, were flanking her; they were all smiling into the camera, their faces lit up with joy.

He paused, and his sharp eyes flashed through the picture appraisingly, and then he frowned, a wave of anger swamping his mind. His smile vanished, and murderous rage swept through him, making him to clutch at the wall for support 22

before he flipped completely. Damn you to hell! That was the thought he wanted to shout at the top of his lungs, but he refrained from doing so.

He would murder that cold, lying, murderous bitch who had dared to fling it to his face that she didn’t know who he was whereas she kept such a big secret locked away. She was cold-hearted, cruel, an angel-faced evil spawn of the devil, a smutty, useless, impassive-faced witch who had dared to deny knowing him.

He shouted at the befuddled secretary to reschedule the appointment, and then he was hurrying to his car, oaths pouring from his mouth venomously as he looked up her address in the pages of the magazine. And boy, did he have issues with her! No woman ever dared to lie to him. None had ever dared to try, and now that she was the first, she would feel the brunt of his rage!

Jesus! Such a huge secret!

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CHAPTER TWO

After a pleasant drive through the congested Lagos roads which gave her ample opportunity to think and clear her mind, Adamma returned home and lolled on a sofa in her living room, sipping green tea and mentally reviewing the dance moves she and her dance choreographer was working on for her upcoming album. A gossip magazine was spread on her laps, and even though she was absorbed in the pages, occasionally, she managed to extricate her face from it and stare gloomily into space. She was thinking about her encounter with Obi, the man who meant nothing, and yet meant everything to her life.

Her encounter with the man had left her feeling almost shell-shocked. It was a huge shock to her and potential threat to her sanity and peace of mind that she had met him again. As a huge sense of outrage engulfed her, she tried as much as possible, to relive the scenes on the pages of the magazines she had read about him and his innumerable, scandalous affairs with a plethora of the some of the most gorgeous models and actresses who had been found hanging on to his arms. They were all beautiful, and he used them unscrupulously and then dumped them by the side.

Dragging her mind from its contemplation of Obi and the women who were either unlucky or stupid enough to be his paramours, she quickly added a drop of acid to his reputation. Simply put, the man was even more dangerous and autocratic than his reputation indicated. He was a man who pursued the fairer sex with an animal passion that almost made him irresistible to the women that flocked to him_ he had even tried to proposition her at that hotel.

He was a hard, ruthless, arrogant, stupendously rich super bastard who was as respected as he was feared in the business world, an acclaimed genius with the Midas touch who turned everything he touched to gold.

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Reading about him was quite inevitable because of the fact that his name and face graced every magazine that was thrust into the market, Adamma thought glumly to herself as she pouted her lips in annoyance. She recalled that it had been a rude shock, a huge surprise the first time she had encountered his face in the tabloids. There he was, her one-night lover, the man with the perfect body and roaring libido who had been nearly insatiable and had peremptorily ordered her to come to his house and entertain him a second time, being praised and simultaneously condemned by the press who loved him and hated him.

She heard the sound of a car, and that sound, intruding on her thoughts, yanked her away from the zone of her mental sanctuary into the reality around her. She dragged her traitorous senses from her contemplation of a man who had no place in her life to look up and see who the intruder was.

The sight of the object of her contemplation jumping out of a white Toyota made her eyes widen in fear and expectation. What has he come here to do?

That was the first question that flew to her mind, but even as the question cropped up, she already knew the answer to it. She knew that the super bastard had already figured it all out. She braced herself for the explosion. She sighed.

Well, so be it.

OBI’S EYES TOOK IN THE BEAUTIFULLY trimmed flower beds, the garage with the two sleek cars that were parked there, the coconut trees that lined the long driveway, and the lovely house itself in a sweeping glance; he saw the big swimming pool which glittered like green emeralds in the sun, but he did not waste time admiring the aesthetics of the house.

He turned and hurried towards the screen, and then he rapped on it, expecting a maid or a doorman to come to the door and answer_ they would probably turn him away from the house. He rapped on it, and, hearing clear instructions from the voice of the woman he desperately wanted to strangle, he pulled the flimsy barrier out and then charged into the interior of the house 25

where he was engulfed by a blast of cool air. He walked past the foyer into a loving room that seemed to be filled with the blue of the ocean. It was a huge room with bamboo furnishings, low glass tables, deep-blue sofas and settees, and paintings reflecting the tempestuous nature of the blue oceans. He could see past the living room to a terrace that was filled with chairs and tables and an exercise bike that glittered like silver in the sun.

Obi, when he saw Adamma seated on a chair like a marble statue, her face betraying no emotion whatsoever, felt a shock of fear. She looked far more exquisite than she had been when he’d encountered her in his hotel and in the numerous pictures of her he’d seen. Her hair appeared very dark, and was pulled back from her face in a simple ponytail, and she was dressed simply in blue gown that reflected the blue all around her, but she looked classically stunning.

‘Hello, Obi.’ Her voice was pitched low, a bewitching musical instrument, and she was smiling at him. He marveled at the chiseled perfection of her face, the flash of intelligence in her eyes, her lips which were unpainted with lipstick but which looked generous and had the color of wine. A speech made by his father when the latter was still alive flashed through his mind: Money can give you happiness; it can make you safe and also reckless, but it can never save you from a truly classically beautiful woman if you’re not gay.

That innocent smile of hers nearly threw him off balance, but he steeled himself, reminding himself that she was a bitch; that behind the demure facade she presented to him, that she was a cold-blooded bitch.

‘Where are the children?’ he bellowed at her, but he felt disgusted at himself for stooping so low. He’d learnt the hard way that there is nothing as hard as accusing a beautiful woman of something. It was a bad moment, one he wished he could forgo, but he had to do this. He had to find out . . . ‘Where are the kids, you stupid bitch? You fucking whore?’

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‘What kids?’ she countered wearily, throwing him a glance that would have wilted other men, but which did nothing to shake his rigid stance as he stood there, towering over her chair and glaring at her with so much anger and venom in his eyes. Fervently wishing he’d sit down, or at least stop glaring at her in such a manner, her eyes took in the expensive corduroy pants he wore, the white jacket that accentuated his lean, muscular physique, the black Gucci loafers, and the handsome face with an inward snort.

Obi was almost flipping. ‘How dare you?’ he bellowed at her. ‘How dare you sit there, cross your whoring legs, and ask me what kids? You shameless hussy! You even dared to lie right to my face that you had no idea about who I was and yet you’ve here, hiding such a huge secret from me. You have my children here with you and I dare you to deny it to my face!’

‘They’re my kids, not yours,’ Adamma said with mock cheerfulness. ‘I am their mother. I gave birth to them and they’re mine, so get out of here.’

Barely able to control his boiling rage, Obi hastened to warn her of the utter folly of her lies. He said coldly, ‘Not even the angels above us will be able to help you if you dare to lie to me again. I’ll kill you here, and nothing can or will stop me. So please tell me the truth.’

Adamma looked up at him, and, for the first time, she felt a sliver of fear up her spine. She had now taken the hint; she had looked into the eyes of the man standing before her and had seen that he was clearly certifiable: he was indeed crazy, and crazy men can do anything and get away with it. The naked rage she saw in his eyes was a telltale indicator that he intended to do everything he said. Her safety was not assured in his questionable hands. But darn the bastard to hell! How had he been able to find out? Who could have told him?

Impatiently, Obi hauled her feet and grabbed her hair. Entwining the glossy locks around his fingers, he pulled her head back, forcing her to look at him. He saw the fear and defiance that was written in her face. ‘Now tell me the truth,’ 27

he told her in a low, dangerous voice that was deceptively calm. ‘If you insist on lying to me, then I’ll murder you and take those kids to a hospital for a paternity test. Either way, I’ll win.’

She looked furious; the instinct for self-preservation had kicked in and she was trying to fight her way out. ‘Let go of me!’ she cried out. ‘You’re hurting me!’

‘Oh yes I want to hurt you,’ Obi barked into her face. He could see the pain that was etched into her face, and he was sorry for hurting her in that way. But he had to know what she was hiding from him. This was no time for mercy or tenderness.

She screamed as he tugged on her hair. ‘You’ve won, you bastard! The twins belong to you. Now let me go!’

Abruptly, he released her, and she fell flat on her face since there was nothing to steady her or cushion her fall. Trembling from this forceful revelation of his paternity, Obi yanked the fallen woman back to her feet, his eyes fixed contemptuously on her face. A cauldron of emotions surged through him and the uppermost thought in his mind was that he should kill her for her lies. She had the audacity to lie to him fearlessly, telling him that she’d had no children with him, and if he’d fallen for that old trick, she would have walked him out of her house and slammed the door in his face. And how had he stumbled on the identity of the children_ how did he know they were his children?

Their age, and the stamp of resemblance they bore to their mother had done the trick. They were tiny replicas of their mother’s undeniable beauty, especially the girl who would be a ravishing beauty when she grew up. But there was something about the chin of the little boy, something in his face and eyes_ especially the eyes_ that told Obi that he was looking at his own genes replicated in that kid. And their mother had lied to him . . . she had buried the

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truth, relying on the fact that she was a beautiful woman who didn’t look like the mother of anybody to lie to him and bury the truth.

Adamma broke into the flow of his thoughts. ‘You’ve beaten the information you wanted out of me, so please get out of here or I’ll have you thrown out of here so fast, you’ll not even know what hit you.’

The sound of her angry, superior, commanding voice made Obi turn to spare her living room a contemptuous glance. Like he’d noted when he first walked into the room, he noted that nearly everything was blue: a blue rug, blue walls that was readily accentuated by the blue lights that shone from the white ceiling. It seemed just like the right place for the elusive singer to hide herself in, away from the prying eyes of men.

He decided to cut down her airs a little bit and impose his will upon her, so deliberately settled himself on one of the wonderful-looking sofas and ordered her to go fetch him a glass of cold water or seltzer.

‘Whoa!’ she screamed as if he’d dashed a pot of hot tar on her face. She was livid with fury. ‘Who the hell do you think you are that you can just walk up to my house? Oh, you have nerve!’

Perfect black brows rose questioningly at her outrage. ‘Nerve, you say, my dear girl who is terribly naive in spite of her experiences? I’ll advise you to try and conserve your energy for the real battle between us_ the kids. They belong to me, and even when you saw me and could have tried to get me into their lives, you chose to lie to me and cover everything. I wonder what your real motive was. And please don’t tell me that there was no way you could’ve contacted me_ isn’t that a copy of The Entrepreneur magazine and a stack of Who’s Who around the corner? I appear in every issue of those magazines, and since you’re an avid reader of them, you definitely knew about me; you knew where to find me. But I never knew about you until I saw you at my hotel where you denied me right to my face. So, what do you have to say about it?’

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He’d intended to rattle the woman thoroughly, and he succeeded. She was now reveling in rage, and she unknowingly succumbed to the trap he’d set for her. She screamed and raved and ranted, and he merely sat back and entertained himself by watching her face. From the display of sheer, unadulterated fear on her face, he could tell that she really loved her kids; that she really cared for them more than any other thing in the whole world. And he realized that he too cared for them and wanted to meet them even though he’d never seen them before.

Seeing how rattled she was, how utterly afraid and vulnerable she was, Obi decided to advance his trump card. ‘And knowing that our case will be in my favor and not yours, let me make it clear to you that I want those kids, and, by the time my battery of lawyers are through with you, you’ll be begging me to let you see them and be with them.’

Adamma stiffened, and then she found her lost voice. ‘What?’

‘You heard me, whore, so please spare me the indignation of having to repeat everything I say to you. Don’t play daft and stupid with me; it won’t work. Perhaps you have something else in mind, something that’ll favor the both of us. If you do, I want to hear it. Or we can talk.’

Instead of replying to his taunting words which she believed he was using to draw her out, she spun round on her heels and fled to the relative safety of her kitchen so she could escape from his taunting words which were being burned into her mind. It was as if an exotic jungle animal had been thrust into her life, and with its presence, she knew her life would never be the same again. The tides had changed, and she would have to welcome it, embrace it as a new part of her that couldn’t be erased no matter what she did. He was now an indispensable part of her life, and she would have to make the necessary adjustments. He was the father of her kids, for goodness sake!

Busying herself by starting lunch for her kids, she began to relive that fateful day when she had discovered that she’d lost her monthly blood flow.

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That had been more than ten years ago, and she’d known instantly who the father was. Her initial reaction had been to sit down and cry herself to stupor because she knew there was absolutely no way for her to ever tell the man responsible for it_ she had destroyed the card he’d given to her.

‘Hello, my dear. There you are.’

Adamma nearly cut the tip of her finger with the knife she was cutting vegetables with as her chopping became awkward. Struggling to infuse a semblance of anger into her voice, she snapped, ‘I have a name and I would really appreciate it if you addressed me by that name and stopped calling me a dear!’ and then she turned back to her chopping.

Obi endured her silence for a while and then said quietly, ‘I took a tour of the house, and I even went to the kids’ rooms. They seem to be very tidy, and the paintings in the boy’s room looked exquisite. Who painted them?’

‘Dan,’ she said simply, without turning around to look at him.

He watched her, a queue of questions lining up in his mind. He had a burning curiosity to ask her how she’d managed to earn so much for herself; how she’d been able to climb the social ladder and reach the esteemed height she was now in. But he kept mute, because he had the feeling that she would never deign to answer such a question if he dared to ask.

All he did was watch her cook. How many times had she done this, played this scene with the men that came into her life? Here she was; the beautiful queen performing housewifely duties like an ordinary woman even though she’d been hailed as the most beautiful woman ever to dazzle the screens with her beauty and her talent. She wore no protective apron over her dress and was professional as she chopped vegetables, prepared a plate of vegetable salad and then set the table. She ignored him, looking past him and humming to herself as if he wasn’t there with her.

‘Where are they?’ he asked.

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She whirled round to face him, disdain in every line of her face. ‘If you’re smart, then you’ll see that I have no intention of speaking to your sorry ass!’ she snapped at him. ‘So just shut up!’

The reprehensible creature chuckled to himself. ‘But you’ll still talk to me.

If not here, then it’ll be at the courts of law or in the pages of those newspapers that glorify your sorry ass. They’ll be so happy to find out that you were once a whore who danced to an audience of drunks.’

Losing every shred of sanity she possessed, she lunged wildly at him, a stinging blow aimed at his face. But he continued to smile, and if hadn’t delivered the words which were like blows to her senses, she would have hit him and possibly regretted her actions.

‘My dear, if you hit me, then I’ll be forced to use it against you,’ he drawled. ‘You’ll be branded a malicious, abusive woman. Go ahead. Hit me; take your best shot.’

Adamma halted in her tracks, her chest rising under the thin stuff of her dress as if she was suffocating. Trembling with impotent rage and frustration, she knew that the conceited animal was right. It’d favor him if she displayed the abusive behavior that was abhorred by the courts. She would be invariably branded as an abusive mother who was susceptible to violent fits of rage. Damn the blasted man!

And then, a loud car horn blasted through her consciousness and she jerked her head up, her thoughts a clear procession through confusion to utter bewilderment. What was happening?

It was Obi who disabused her of her of her unholy thoughts. ‘It’s already past two pm, and so I think the kids are back from school. You’re so terribly scatter-brained; you don’t even know when your kids are supposed to be back from school.’

The kids . . . She felt a momentary wave of sheer panic in her mind. She glared at the intruder in her kitchen with undisguised loathing, and then turned 32

towards the door, her damp fingers clutching at the table for support. And then, the bundles of energy that were so alike to her physically came crashing through the door, the boy rushing in first, the girl walking more slowly and languidly into the kitchen with the grace of a ballet dancer.

Adamma was staring at Obi when he first beheld the ten-year-old twins, and the expression she saw on his face, in his eyes, almost broke her heart. It was a look of joy, one that seemed to light up his handsome face as if from some inner light.

And he was thinking to himself, they’re my children. They came from my body. They’re mine. And he knew at that moment that he would do anything for them if they asked for it.

Seeing the tall stranger that crowded their mother, the twins halted in their tracks. The boy seemed to draw back, and it was obvious to their father who was in charge between them. The girl walked up to him boldly, her eyes flashing with annoyance. ‘Who are you?’ she asked in a deliberately rude voice that made the boy smile at her antics. Her eyes looked angry. ‘What are you doing here? What did you do to my mother to make her look so sad and unhappy?’

Obi smiled at the girl with all the charm he could muster, hoping to charm her and win her over, but she frowned and recoiled from him; he’d obviously misjudged his quarry. She frowned severely at him, and he made a mental note to be wary of her in the future. She demanded, ‘Who are you? Mother, I don’t like him!’ and there was an unmistakable hint of coldness in her words that astounded her father. This was her mother’s daughter, all right.

‘Now, Helen. . .’ Adamma began, moving forward, but Obi’s powerful arms encircled her waist, halting her movements.

‘Let me handle it, my dear,’ Obi interjected smoothly. He smiled once again and then he addressed the twins. ‘Kids, I’m not making mummy sad or

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unhappy in any way. In fact, she’s the epitome of happiness. Am I right, darling?’

And Adamma had no choice but to smile brightly so that the hyper perceptive Helen wouldn’t flip. The bastard was monopolizing the conversation and was using her love for her kids into eliciting the appropriate responses from her.

Satisfied, his eyes challenging her to contradict him, Obi continued brightly. ‘And did your mother ever tell you about your father?’ he asked, his fingers clamping shut on the singer’s lips as she nearly let out a scream.

‘Why, yes,’ Helen and her brother said in unison, and then the girl added, ‘she’s told us severally that our dad is a well-known man and that one day, she’d take us to go and meet him. But we have to be old enough first, she said.

Do you know our dad?’

Obi smiled gracefully, and he lost several heights as he talked to them in a very low, patient voice. ‘Well, today is your lucky day, kids. I’m your father.’

And Adamma bit him and then cried out in fury. If she had the power, she would have conjured up thunder and lightning and struck him down where he stood. But the damage had already been done. How dare this man walk into her house, disrupt her mind, and then, disclose his true identity to their children without first discussing it with her and gaining her approval? And to think that the conceited jerk had tried to hoodwink her children into believing that she was happy with him! She was horrified and appalled at the gall the man had displayed, and she would forever hate him for it.

Ian rushed to her and hugged her legs happily, his small face smiling up at her. ‘Oh, mother, thank you so much,’ he whispered. ‘I love you very much.

Thank you for doing this for us_ for me.’

Helen smiled, her eyes glued to her father’s face in a slow, deliberate appraisal. ‘I’m not surprised,’ she said with a maturity that belied her age and requisite experience in life. ‘You look like Ian in a very subtle way,’ she said to 34

her father. ‘You have the same features in a way that’s not too noticeable because we take after our mother in looks.’ Signaling her beautiful mother to bend down, she encircled her arms around Adamma’s neck. ‘Thank you. You’re the best mother in the world.’

Adamma held her kids as she blinked back burning tears, and she scowled fiercely at Obi, knowing that he’d found his way into her life and there was no way she could force him out of it. He was now a permanent fixture in her life, and there was nothing she could do about it. They had one thing in common; they had their kids, and it was a bond that bound them together stronger than iron bonds.

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CHAPTER THREE

With a deep unconscious sigh that not even the new trend of her life could prevent her from uttering, Adamma tried to review the tragic history of her life that lay before her. She was thinking about her parents and her dead sister, her mind dredging up the memories that were a source of unbearable pain to her, but which she resolutely clung to, afraid that she would forget about the people that formed the foundation of her existence if she didn’t consciously try to remember them.

It must have been fifteen years ago that her parents had died_ she wasn’t quite sure about it. But what she could remember with vivid clarity was the fact that her parents had been so wonderfully in love with each other, though there had seemed to be a cloud that hung over them in the time of their lives together.

There had been something not quite right between them and some persons, of that Adamma was very sure. Then one day they had kissed she and her elder sister goodbye and had driven away, never to return because they’d been crushed to death by a tanker which had lost control over itself on the highway and that had been the end of their lives.

Then it had been she and her sister who had remained. Gloria had tried what she could for the both of them and had even gone to one of their father’s best friends when he was still alive, but the man had wanted something in return; he’d wanted Gloria in bed because of her beauty. Gloria had told Adamma about it and they’d sworn to keep away from the bastard and never seek for the help of an outsider with their lives. That was when Gloria had taken up streetwalking because she couldn’t bear for her sister to get put into the streets. And then Gloria herself had been killed one night when she’d gone out for her twiceweekly forays into the night life of the Lagos mainland. She had been knocked

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down by a drunk-driver who’d fled the scene immediately, never to be seen again.

And Adamma had been left all by herself to care for her life and see to it that she stayed alive for the sake of her family. She had to be alive for the sake of herself and see to it that she lived and became something with her life.

But it had been grueling. She had nobody, had no family, no relations she knew who could have helped her get along in her life. So, against all that she and her sister had fought against, she’d gone back to the man who’d asked for her sister’s body in bed, and she’d accepted to be his mistress, though she’d given him conditions for her services.

‘I need a room where I can live, and I need books too, plus an education_’ ‘You will marry me and then you shall forget everything about education,’ Alhaji Danjuma interrupted her speech. ‘A woman’s place is beside her husband in the home and to look after the children Allah has blessed them with. That is what you will do.’

Adamma had looked at him for a very long moment before she’d answered his question. She’d thought long and hard about the proposal and she knew that she’d rather die than be married to a middle-aged Hausa man with two wives so she could waste her beauty and bear his children; her name would never be heard in the world. She’d rather die and join her family than succumb to this lecherous man.

‘I will be your mistress and only your mistress,’ she’d replied coldly, her eyes boring into him relentlessly. ‘I want to have my education too.’

‘Then you can go, my child, and may Allah be with you,’ the man had replied obstinately.

‘What if I took away the education part?’ she’d bargained, her voice still cold, toneless, as if she was bargaining for a side cut of beef at the market instead for her future. ‘What if I asked you to buy me all the books I need?

Would you still take care of me?’

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‘You are a stubborn girl, but a very beautiful one, and one must not let such beauty suffer. Your father was my friend, and I really want to take care of you. I want you to be my wife.’

‘No.’ ‘Then what do you want?’

‘Take care of me, and I will do whatever I can to please you. However, I would rather die than get married to you. I mean it.’ She’d continued glaring at him, and her face had betrayed no emotion whatsoever. What she’d counted on was the fact that she was extraordinarily beautiful, that he’d fall for that beauty if not for anything else.

And he did. She lost her virginity to him, and the time had passed. She’d educated herself because the bastard had made it impossible for her to do anything about her education since he gave her the money needed only to purchase her necessaries and nothing else. She had cultivated some intelligent friends who gave her their curriculum for each academic session, and she’d gone about educating herself. She brushed up on her literature; she read all the classics she could lay her hands on, from Shakespeare to Homer, Charles Dickens to Louisa May Alcott. She studied everything that had to do with the arts; she studied the works of Michelangelo and all the other great Renaissance artists, and then she delved into the contemporary artists of her time. She was well-versed with the works of Pablo Picasso, Van Gogh, and she studied the business market as if her life depended on it.

Alhaji Danjuma was really proud of her. The man was absolutely obsessed with her, and he kept on pestering her to become his wife. She bluntly refused, though she gave him whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted it, and wherever he wanted it. She knew that the man loved her, and that he wanted to have her.

She gave him herself, but the inner core of her soul was what she kept and reserved for herself.

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One day she broached the topic of her schooling to him once again. ‘Send me to school,’ she told him as she lay in bed with him, her body warm against him, her perfectly formed breasts pressing against his chest. ‘If you don’t, then I intend to leave you and find my way with another man. I mean it.’

He’d looked at her for a very long moment, and she’d stared back at him impassively. She meant it, and she knew that he knew that she meant it. She was not given to idle threats. ‘I will think about it,’ he said, and she knew that she was going to school. She had won.

He never did. The following day he was mugged late at night by some hoodlums who made away with his car and some other expensive items he had on him while leaving him with a bullet stuck in his chest. He bled to death.

When Adamma heard about the mugging, she had sat down cross-legged in a yoga stance and thought about her future. Not for a moment did she have any remorse over what had happened to her lover; to her he’d been nothing other than a man who she’d paid for taking care of her with her body. She’d even lost her virginity to him. Now, he was dead, and her chances of ever going to school were slim to none. What could she do?

She practiced exotic dancing for a week, while living off the food and the little cash she still had on her as she planned her next move in the chess game of life. When her tutelage of herself was over, she hit the clubs. She was a young girl, but she’d really blossomed into a stunning beauty that turned heads whenever she walked into a room. She was on the lookout for a powerful man, who would take good care of her, and she had great talent; she could sing like an angel, wiggle like a snake, and she had the killer looks to go with it. She was on the hunt for her destiny.

And that was how she found her way into the clubs as an exotic dancer and a singer and a small-time whore. And then she’d met Obinna Obiekwe who had changed her life forever by knocking her up, and then she’d met Dan who had helped her to fulfill her destiny.

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‘YOU AND I ARE GOING TO get married.’

The words were still ringing in her ears, and she just sat there like a zombie staring off into space. She had Obinna Obiekwe in her view, and she wondered what it would feel like if she just picked up the steak knife on the table and knifed him with it. Then that arrogant expression would be wiped off from his face, no doubt. But still, in a way, she had to confess to her cold, dead soul that she liked his arrogance; it made him look impossibly handsome, larger-than-life, and that was the trait she always admired in men. However, he was stupid, but she had to say nothing to him about it.

She hated the fact that the bastard had dared to infringe on her privacy once again as she’d sat in her office at the back of the front hall, working on the lyrics to a new song when the moron just drove by. He’d tried to make small talk, though she’d frozen him out by maintaining radio silence and working some complicated mathematical calculations in her head while she’d fixed him with a cold, frozen look that would have frosted over a glass of hot water. She’d sensed his increasing frustration, and she’d enjoyed it, then his lips had curved in a small smile she knew nothing about. She smiled too; now they would really engage in a battle. That was when the moron had dropped the bombshell.

God, he was dumber than she’d originally thought he was. They_ the two of them_ getting married to each other was a serious joke because of the fact that the means of communication between them was zero.

First, he had dared to show up to her house without any form of invitation from her with a bunch of stupid smelly roses she was going to toss straight into the trashcan as soon as he left her house, and now he was disturbing her peace of mind by making stupid allusions to the fact that they had to go and get married just to satisfy his overblown ego.

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‘We will get married,’ she echoed. ‘You are crazy and incredibly stupid.

Tell me just one reason why you and I will get married.’ She pointed at him as she said this.

Obinna laughed, and she smiled, wondering what there was for him to laugh about when she was getting ready to send his head over to the chopping block. ‘Our children will get to be with both of their parents and not have to stay with only their mother.’

Adamma looked at him as if he was deranged. ‘And what about my freedom?’ she asked sarcastically. ‘What makes you think I’ll be ready to give up the joys and the pleasures of being a single lady to just tie myself to you?’

She was fairly bristling with fury as she glared at him, though she firmly kept her temper clamped down and under control.

‘On the contrary, my dear girl, I’ll be offering you a home, wealth, security, and most importantly, my children will have a proper home where they can flourish and be able to harness their natural abilities.’

Adamma laughed, but there was not a hint of humor in it. ‘You idiot,’ she snapped. ‘I have a home; I have wealth with which I take excellent care of my children with. This house_’ and she waved expansively around the room, ‘_ can serve as the home my little babies will ever need, so please take your offer and go and shove it far up your ass. You disgust me!’

‘It can’t be otherwise, and I’ll advise you to bethink before taking such a harsh measure which you’ll definitely regret.’ Obinna’s eyes became cold as he fixed them upon her so she could be able to grasp the full implication of his words.

Adamma barely managed to hold her temper with a superhuman effort. Oh, the cheek and the pompous arrogance of the obnoxious man! The strange feelings she’d been nursing since Obinna made his intrusion back into her life now threatened to explode in violent fits of anger as this latest ingredient of insult was dropped into her laps. God! Who did the stupid fellow think he was?

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First, he’d audaciously thrust himself back into her life without any invitation from her, and also into the lives of her children with such devastating force that had left her gasping in open-mouthed horror, and now, when she thought that the man had definitely overstayed his welcome and should go back to the pits of hell where he’d come from, he was now ordering her to marry him and become chained down to his side.

To marry him! It was absurd and ridiculous!

Eyes narrowing to slits at her, Obinna snapped, his firmly clamped down temper now threatening to erupt, ‘I can see that you’re hell bent on opposing everything I say, you silly girl. You intend to remain a single girl instead of accepting the generous I made to you, and that makes me wonder how many men you spread your hot legs for in order to be able to attain your famed position as one of the most successful musicians in the whole of Africa. How many men did you sleep with so you were able to become a renowned singer, huh?’

Inwardly flinching at the insulting words, Adamma held herself with proud dignity, refusing to quail under his intense gaze of contempt. She felt sick. The shameless man was using her past to pour ridicule on her and shame her. But her proud mind could not, and would not accept that he could just think that he could relegate her ranks to that of some inconsequential fellow and then think that he could get away with it. She had been a whore and a kept woman, but she had risen through the ranks, and it was her sheer hard work and the luck of the gods that had gotten her where she now was, not by spreading her legs for some darn fellow to insert his stupid thing into.

Then she smiled; let the games begin. ‘I do prostitution Mondays through Wednesday, and then I do poll dancing for the governor every Thursday and Friday; on Saturdays I do hardcore porn for Raging Studios in South Africa and then Sundays are my days off work.’ Her expression was dead pan.

‘Occasionally I engage in some lesbian sex with some political heavyweights 42

who finance my albums, and then there is the S&M sex I do with some bodybuilders in the Recreation Center where they train. I love my job. Oh, and lest I forget, it’s a quarter of a million NGN a night.’

‘You can’t be serious,’ Obinna snapped, and the shock that was etched all over his stupid, handsome face was an expression she’d relish for a very long time after he’d gone from her house.

She flashed him a cold smile. ‘What do you think? You wanted to know and I told you. Now be a good boy and shut up before I have you thrown out of here by the police. I will do it.’

Obinna smiled, and this time the glint of amusement in his eyes was only too evident for her to see. He waved towards her touch-screen Android phone.

‘Please, darling, be my guest. And while you’re at it, I do not need to remind you that the kids are right now with my mother who will be so happy to see them.’

Adamma’s eyes flashed in anger. ‘First you barge into my life without invitation and now you’ve kidnapped my children from their school. That’s lovely, because now I have to have you sent over to prison. My problems are solved.’ She clapped her hands with false glee.

‘You are mentally unhinged.’

She laughed, and this time, the enjoyment in her voice was very evident.

‘Of course I am. Who said I wasn’t? Now, let’s get back to that marriage issue we’d talked about. I am not interested in marrying you, not for all the gold in China.’

Obinna chuckled, and she was furious to note that the amusement was back into those eyes and the anger he’d etched all over his face was evaporating.

‘You will,’ he said with such confidence that she felt seriously annoyed. ‘You and I have something to go on, and that something is our kids. If you wish you won’t marry me, then you’ll have to encounter me in the courts. It’ll be such a huge scandal you’ll hate yourself.’

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She wasn’t even listening to the boring, monotonous drone of his silky, masculine voice. She had to find a way to get rid of the fool before he bored her to death with his crap, and then she made a mental inventory of the arsenal she had available in her surroundings. There was the street watchmen; click. Ah, yes: sexual assault. How lovely. She looked at him and smiled, knowing that the moron was absolutely right; she had to marry him. She was no fool; she knew it would crop up sooner or later, and the silly man was the kind of man she‘d want to ultimately settle down with. However, he was too arrogant, and she had to teach him a lesson or two in manners.

‘I’m considering your proposal, and it seems to be sounding better and better with each passing minute,’ she told him, and she could see his jaws drop.

Ah, yes, smile, you fool. That’s the reaction I was waiting for. ‘If you and I get to marry each other, then the twins will live with both parents, but what about me?’

‘What about you?’ Obinna asked, bewildered.

‘Honey, I have a career and fan bases that will make the army of Darius seem like child’s play. If I were to get married to you, then it may affect my career, so I need some sort of financial leverage that will keep me in good stead.

You’ll have to be furnishing me with a monthly salary that will be used for shopping and other miscellaneous expenses. However, it will be huge. But before we say more, why don’t we seal this with a kiss?’

She stood up and moved to Obinna, and before he could react to what she’d said, her mouth clamped down on his. She felt his body go rigid in shock as she tasted him, and then the shock dissolved and she felt his hands encircle her waist. She stroked his hair as she kissed him, and then her fingers went to his buttons and began to work on them slowly, her touch light as the touch of a lone feather. She was also aware that he was unfastening her blouse, and she almost smiled with satisfaction; their kiss prevented her from doing so.

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She could feel the desire that knifed through him as a shudder rippled through his long frame, and she thought: good dog. But the surprise came when she felt the rush of heat that swept through her in a wave, and she was angry at the blatant betrayal of her by her body which she should be controlling.

However, it worked to let her be aware of the fact that the fireworks that existed between the two of them were something she had no control over herself. With this man she may well be the wanton sex freak, with no inhibitions.

They held each other in the long kiss for an almost indeterminate period of time, and then Adamma pulled away. She pulled her top open almost entirely, ripping the fabric, and then she lifted one perfectly arched brow as Obinna gave her a quizzical look.

‘You just tore my dress while you were trying to force yourself on me,’ she told him. ‘Now I’ll have to go and report you to the security men of this street so they can teach you one or two lessons.’

Without giving the shocked Adonis before her the time to react to her shocking accusation, she turned around and fled from the room. She sped towards the front entrance, and then she had the front door open so she could go to her freedom. Suddenly, she stopped short, her brows furrowed in annoyance, for, standing on the front porch, his eyes fixed on the screen of his phone as he typed out an email at lightning speed, was Daniel, the man who had saved her from the seedy life of the clubs.

He wore the perfectly tailored all-white suit with a fashionable flair. His smile was disarming, and he slowly lifted his full eyebrows at Adamma’s haste and disheveled appearance. When he saw the top curves of her breast through the torn material of her shirt, his pupils dilated for just a fraction of a second before it was replaced by a frown. She loved him very much, this man who was like a brother to her, and she didn’t want to do anything that would hurt his feelings.

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‘There’s nothing wrong with me,’ she told him breathlessly. But in her mind she knew that the punishment she’d intended to dish out to Obinna had to be postponed for some other time because there was no way she could get past Dan in her hurry to the gate.

‘Are you busy?’ the handsome man asked suspiciously. ‘And what’s up with your shirt?’

‘Oh, Dan, my darling, I actually wasn’t expecting you to be here!’

Adamma gushed with a false effusiveness. ‘And, you do look great and fabulous. How are you?’

Dan frowned at her and then demanded, slightly offended and flustered at her manner, ‘Am I such an unwelcome visitor to you that you’re trying to get rid of me even before I’ve had the opportunity to come in and exchanged a word or two with you? Or are you very busy right now? And what were you doing? You look flushed.’

That’s because I’ve been busy kissing the father of my children who happens to be a very handsome devil that deserves to be thoroughly punished by me, she thought, but before she could summon a baked-up reply to the question, Obinna breezed out towards them with a radiant smile that was totally charming lighting up his handsome face. He gave Adamma a winning smile. Adamma watched, horrified as his left hand circled her waist and he leaned his face into her hair. And then she was able to realize what a picture they must make to the amused man who was watching them with a bemused expression: Obinna without his jacket, and she with the buttons on her dress undone, and also with her shirt half torn off from her body; and she was looking flushed. She was terribly appalled. We look like lovers who were caught in the act.

Dan’s eyes widened dramatically with understanding. ‘My darling, you should have told me that you were busy, with such a handsome man with you.

And I must have really interrupted something, dear, yes?’

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‘You interrupted nothing!’ she denied hotly, feeling heat rushing to her cheeks. She flung off Obinna’s hand. ‘I was doing absolutely nothing. Come in, my dear Dan.’ She waved him in with a fake flourish, but she was inwardly seething at Obi. God, she’d sooo deal with the fool!

Dan fell into a gale of laughter. ‘Me, come in? Certainly not, because I know that your friend will feel that I’m intruding on the privacy you need to continue with what you were doing with each other. He won’t be happy, no?’

Obinna’s face broke into a smile. ‘You guessed right, Dan. And please do not let us keep you from leaving. Also, remind me to buy you a bottle of beer for our upcoming engagement.’

Dan’s smile never faltered for once, but Adamma felt a shift in his friendliness. He was now wary and unhappy, with the look of shock appearing in his eyes which were directed at her. Her heart sank with at his plight. Now rigid with shock at Obinna’s audacious manipulation of her once again, her gaze flicked from the face of one man to the other in astonishment. Dan was supposed to be raving mad and filled with jealousy_ she wanted him to be. He, who had severally professed his undying love for her for the better part of a decade, was still smiling when he received news of her engagement. It was unfair. And they were laughing at her misery.

‘But, you’ve got it all wrong!’ she cried out, her face nearly downcast with shame, her voice trembling with indignation and fury.

‘Oh yes, as wrong as the buttons on your shirt,’ Dan said laughingly, blithely unconcerned about Adamma’s pallid face as she glanced down at her dress to find the top curves of her breasts revealed. With a squeal, she hastily buttoned up as Dan made his exit, laughing uncontrollably at her obvious discomfiture.

Chuckling wickedly, Obi laid a hand on her shoulder but she screamed and sprang away from his touch as if she had been touched with a burning brand.

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Eyes burning with fury, she clenched her fists with frustration and glared at him, narrowly missing hitting his arrogant face with her clenched fists. And if she dared to do so, who knew what further threats he’d inflict upon her? What further agony? What about the question pertaining to her kids?

Plastering a fake smile on her stunning face she was miles away from feeling, she addressed him icily. ‘Obi, I will go with you to wherever the fuck you kept my children. And please be aware that the man you just told off is in fact the very man who saved my life. I owe that man everything.’

‘Are the both of you an item?’

She snorted, and the look she fixed upon him would have wilted flowers.

‘It’s none of your business, but since you wish to know, I love that man with all my heart.’

Obinna opened his mouth to say something, thought better of it, and then he closed his mouth. She added his furious, stricken expression to the gallery of what she’d enjoy when she had the time to do so. Ah, how she’d enjoy pissing him off. It was worth it. She loved Dan very much, but as a brother or a close friend, but it wouldn’t hurt to keep that information hidden from Obi, no?

CHAPTER FOUR

Obinna stroked the soft hair on his daughter’s head lovingly as he towered over the huge bed, staring at his kids while they slept. A wave of admiration, almost worship, flowed from him to the figures on the bed, and he felt like engulfing the twins with a love and protection so strong and intense, it hurt to even envisage same. Oh yes, love. He really loved and adored them because 48

they were what he had, all he had. They were what he had always wanted, but had been too reckless and arrogant to have. They were his flesh and blood.

His eyes suddenly narrowing at the direction his traitorous thoughts had veered; the prospect of marrying that proud, preternaturally beautiful singer, he reviewed his interactions with that proud, provocative, stubborn, fiercelyindependent, twenty-eight-year-old woman. He knew with a wave of certainty that she fully intended to be as opposed to him as was humanly and physically possible. Her undisguised sarcasm, her icy indifference and contempt, her leashed anger and the basilisk flash of dislike in her luminous eyes whenever she looked at him, all pointed to it with unwavering intensity. But he fully intended to put the proud woman to heel, break down her invisible barrier, and get her to respond to him, however reluctantly.

The hand of dawn was stealing across the sky, sending in shafts of pallid sunlight to the room through the heavy curtains that curtained the windows. Obi silently crept out of the room so as not to awaken the kids_ who knew whether they were light sleepers? _ and moved hastily down the long stretch of corridor to the room that he’d installed Adamma into the previous night.

How and why she had meekly assented to deign to spend the night at his home, he would never know, but he had welcomed it because he couldn’t bear the thought of leaving her in the hands of the congested roads and night prowlers. Not that he would ever admit such a thought to her, anyway. . .

He invariably hesitated before the mahogany door, and then he gently turned the knob and walked into the vast monstrosity of a room, with its modern decor, a queen-sized bed, expensive art paintings that adorned the walls, and dark blue curtains. And there, seated cross-legged on the chaise longue in the room, was the object of his speculations. Her only item of clothing was a silk gown that barely concealed her gleaming skin, which he was sure she had no doubt borrowed from one of the numerous maids who had gushed at her all 49

night long. Her raven hair hung loose around her shoulders, her face was utterly devoid of makeup, and she looked undeniably lovely, completely ethereal as she sat there like a frozen statue, staring at him. She was the most stunningly beautiful woman he had ever encountered in his whole life.

A lump rising in his throat at the thought of being the father of her kids, he mouthed a greeting. ‘Good morning, my dear girl.’

Instead of proffering an appropriate response, she infused a look of pure ice into her face and inclined her head backwards, appearing like a deadly snake about to strike a defenseless prey. ‘When is your mother coming down to see me?’ she questioned him in a haughty, queenly voice. She conveniently forgot to answer the greeting he’d proffered.

‘When she has summoned enough strength, she will have you ushered into her presence. Never fear.’

Alarm flooded into her luminous eyes as the supposed implications of his words sank in. ‘Energy for what?’ she burst out, leaning forward in her chair to glare at him angrily.

‘Oh,’ he replied casually, ‘when she cried and wept at the sight of her grandchildren, she was soon drained of all energy and had to retire to her room to weep in the safety of her inner sanctum. But what she does not know is the fact that you are the mother of her grandchildren; she has always been a devoted fan of your music. She will be undoubtedly and absolutely delighted when she sees you here as the mother of the rolling balls of energy that besieged her all night with an avalanche of questions. So please dispel your fears and relax your mind. She is not a monster who will eat you at the slightest opportunity she gets.’

In spite of his reassuring words, she was still adrift in a sea of fear and drowning in a cauldron of emotional chaos. She was doubly sure that, like every 50

mother was wont to do, his mother would unquestionably be in firm support of her wayward son and probably brand her a cruel, wicked, obnoxious, conceited woman who had deliberately refrained from disclosing the paternity of her children to the father for such an outrageously long period of time. But it hadn’t been a deliberate act, she mentally defended herself.

Oh yes, it had been a deliberate act, an inner voice that could not be silenced mocked at her. She had been reading all about him, about his numerous business successes, his charity work, and about his plethora of lovers, she admitted to herself. And then her fists clenched of their own accord and a flood of unholy thoughts gushed into her mind. What about his numerous lovers? The whores who warmed his bed whenever he had an itch in his loins? she wondered to herself.

She was unaware of the fact that the object of her speculations had excused himself from the room as waves of jealousy and anger hit her with the crushing force of a sledgehammer. It clearly demonstrated how infatuated she had become with him. Now that she had agreed to chain herself down to him in matrimony, would he, in the interest of propriety, kick all his lovers away and stick solely to her?

That was most unlikely, she thought bitterly to herself. She was totally dispirited. The man she had agreed to chain herself down to was an independently rich, devilishly handsome and virile man whose undisguised pursuits were stunning women who thronged the TV screens_ models who were insatiable sex maniacs, actresses who were notorious for their sexual escapades_ and all of them were glamorous beauties. Her shoulders drooping with dismay, she wondered despairingly on what to do.

Thirty minutes flew by before she dared summon the nerve to get out of the room she now found stiflingly hot and walk down the long corridor in search of the living room after she had tackled her bathroom obligations. However, all her 51

efforts proved abortive_ all the doors she threw open were the wrong ones and opened out into big, opulently-furnished rooms which were so big, she had the feeling she could park a car comfortably in any of them without being stifled for space.

She had the fleeting feeling that she was lost in this opulent

wilderness of monstrous rooms.

And so, Obi, strolling around the house in search of her, discovered the object of his attention standing at the far end of house, looking totally lost right in the middle of a room. Leaning on the doorframe, he drawled mockingly, ‘So you got lost, my dear girl.’

She whirled round at the sound of his voice, an exclamation of surprise dying on her lips as she beheld the towering form that stood at the door, dressed immaculately in a white shirt and blue pants, with Gucci loafers to match.

‘My dear, I did not get lost in your house,’ she lied, a bright smile turning up the corners of her lips. ‘I was merely admiring the rooms which I find to be exceedingly wonderful. It was decorated by your mother, yes? And she owns this house, yes? Anyway, is she ready to see me now?’

Unaccustomed to seeing women lie with such an astonishing consistency and match their wits against him without fear, Obi decided not to cross words with the woman because of her expertise and biting sarcasm. All he did was nod his handsome head and briskly walked out of the room, leaving her to follow him.

Unlike she was, he was not apprehensive, because he had already

proffered an explanation to his mother, explaining his brief sexual liaison to her, clearing the way for the stubborn woman to be relaxed.

As they walked into the living room, the singer glanced around nervously, as if she expected a hatchet-wielding woman to be lurking around the corner, waiting to attack. She rubbed damp fingers on her dress, and, seeing that the coast was clear, she held her head proudly and walked into the room.

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Her nerves were aflutter with apprehension, signaling the fear that was welling up in her to erupt in a film of sweat on her face. She had to admit it herself: the prospect of meeting Hope filled her with a nameless dread. She was terrified.

‘Good morning, sweet mother,’ Helen and her twin brother sang in greeting.

Their mother forced a smile as she watched them dip into bowls of sweetened cereal and bread. She slid into a chair opposite them. ‘Did you sleep well?’ she asked.

Before they could chorus a reply as they invariably did every morning, a scream erupted from a throat and Adamma twisted around in her chair to know the reason for the scream, and then she froze into immobility. Standing beside the rich curtains, her eyes almost popping out from their sockets, was a tall, slim woman, whose face looked ageless, making an accurate guess of her age a near impossibility. Her attractive features and regal bearing readily identified her as Obi’s mother.

She bounded into the room, waving and talking at once. ‘Adamma!’ she cried out. ‘What are you doing in my house!?’

Adamma bolted up from her chair as if she had just sat on a hot stove. She dropped into a deep curtsey. ‘Madam, your son must have told you everything.

He must have explained everything to you. And I am very sorry I hadn’t come here sooner.’ If she’d had her way, she would never have come here.

‘Madam and sorry be darned!’ the woman exclaimed, drawing the singer up to encircle her in an embrace. ‘Call me Hope if you must call me anything, and as for the sorry, it died years ago. There is absolutely nothing to be sorry about and there is nothing to forgive. Oh, and you were so young; I gathered your age from the newspapers so long ago and I also never knew that you were the woman my reckless son was talking about. Oh my dear, welcome!’

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The woman’s transparent honesty and sincerity made Adamma to visibly relax and dispel her fears. A sigh of relief escaped through her lips as she relaxed comfortably into her chair, pouring herself a cup of tea and snatching up a slice of fresh buttered bread. She could relax, enjoy her meal, and then, afterwards, she could engage the lively woman in a serious conversation because the woman had a likeable personality.

But it seemed that Hope had other plans, for no sooner had she gulped down a cup of green tea than she plunged into conversation with the singer. ‘My dear, I am still quite shocked that you are the mother of my lovely grandchildren. And you were so ridiculously young at that time! Seventeen is such a young age for a girl to conceive but I am quite sure that your parents must have been there for you. They had supported you and cared for you. Am I right?’

That question made Adamma’s head to jerk up from her cup as if she had been slapped forcefully. It was a reminder of the fact that she had no identity, and she didn’t want to shock the poor woman by delving into such depressing territory. But as her eyes fell on the sculpted Adonis who was watching her intently, waiting for her to speak, she decided to fling her reservations aside and shock their pants off them. It would be fun.

‘Oh, my parents died in a car crash when I was thirteen,’ she answered flatly, waving one manicured hand dismissively.

‘My God!’This exclamation burst forth from Hope’s mouth as she jerked bolt upright in her chair, a dazed look in her eyes, a frown marring her brows. ‘I am so terribly sorry, my dear. It must have a terrible thing to have happened to you at such a young age. But your relations must have helped you at the time, your cousins, your family. . .’

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Thoroughly enjoying their discomfiture and the pity game she was playing with them, Adamma impassively expounded on her losses, smiling radiantly with forced joviality throughout her explanations. ‘When I was fifteen, my elder sister was crushed to death by a hit-and-run driver. And I have no family. When my parents were still alive, they never talked about who they were, or where they had come from, so I do not know my origins. So, I was all alone during the time of my pregnancy. Dan was my only help_ he is now my manager and the kids’ godfather.’

Obi blinked rapidly, a lump of pain rising in his throat. So that explained Adamma’s vagueness whenever she talked about her past and her heritage on the screens and in the society pages of the tabloids, he realized, noting that everything about her was shrouded in mystery. Everything. Her past life, her present life. . . Vivid images of her face as she had danced across that room more than a decade ago flashed through his mind in an instant. She had been an orphan, a lonely girl trapped in the vast wilderness of life, locked up in her own private world, a whore who battled for survival. He was horrified and appalled at how she had lived her life, but he tried to keep his features impassive and his expression cool and impersonal.

‘Oh my darling, I am so sorry about it,’ Hope murmured in a low gentle voice that trembled with emotion. ‘I just never knew about it because you never mentioned it in your interviews. But how did you manage to survive? How did you take care of yourself?’

‘Oh, I was a singer in a club_ a respectable club_ and that was where I met your son and we had our affair. That was also where I met the man who saved my life and took me away from doom,’ she added slowly, a sad smile appearing on her lips, concealing the inner pain and turmoil that was hidden beneath the surface. How would Hope react if she divulged it to her that she had been a

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stripper who performed to a crowd of leering men and smiling women? That her son had fucked her and impregnated her inside a nightclub?

Obi needed no magician to tell him that the doom she was talking about meant. She had indirectly revealed her life to them_ to his mother; she had introduced her humble beginning by sketching vague marks and leaving the rest to remain shrouded in total mystery. She had suffered heartbreak and surrendered to her plight, a born victim of circumstance. And yet she had plodded through the ocean of life with unwavering faith, and Obi felt a new wave of respect towards her. It was palpably obvious to him that she now wanted her life and her unsavory past to remain in the past, and he now intended to stop bringing the details of her past life to the fore and taunting her with it.

Let the past remain in the past, he resolved silently to himself.

THE NEXT FEW WEEKS PASSED in a blur for Adamma. It was a buzz of activity for her as she made preparations for her marriage to one of the most eligible bachelors of Lagos society. She was not in any way ecstatic and neither was she unenthusiastic about the wedding; she had just accepted it and taken it all in stride.

To her surprise and suspicion, Obi’s attitude towards her changed dramatically. Gone was the arrogant man who took impish delight in taunting her and flooding her sensibilities with ridicule; gone was the man who wished to dominate her and have her firmly under him. He was now tender to her, and she was touched by his generosity and a trifle suspicious when he showered her with expensive gifts which were beyond her wildest dreams. He often took her out to expensive restaurants and exotic locations where the TV hounds and paparazzi were bound to notice her and ecstatically take photos of her.

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Hope insisted on the presence of a family for her daughter-in-law as that was the paramount factor in her esteem of marriages, so she made suggestions about procuring a temporary family for the singer for the duration of the marriage festivities. Adamma told the older woman that she knew what she had to do, and so she consulted her closest friend, Amanda, and the latter rounded up some of her family members. But first, she demanded an audience with the singer so they could discuss certain puzzling aspects of Adamma’s hasty marriage to the well-known bachelor.

It was with a pounding heart that Adamma drove to Amanda’s residence at Ikeja to go and see her friend. A tall, attractively fleshy thirty-two-year-old woman, Amanda had scratched through life in her childhood and her youth, subsequently swimming from the pits of despair to fortune and affluence. It was a change of fortune that astounded her.

‘Hello, Singer,’ she gushed in greeting as she hugged Adamma tightly and lovingly. ‘Thumbs up, baby. You look great and sexy. Anyway, put that aside and let us get down to business. What is the news flying around that you are about to get married to someone I do not know about?’

Adamma laughed. ‘Well, I am getting married to Obinna Obiekwe, and I know you must have heard a lot about him. He’s rich, very sexy and handsome to boot, and so, I’m going to have a wonderful time as his wife.’

Amanda inclined her head and tried to glare at her friend, but her efforts at sternness was a wasted effort. She asked slowly, her voice ringing with clarity, ‘Is this man the father of the twins? Was he the mystery man who knocked you up and then vanished into thin air?’

‘Yes.’

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‘Do you love this man and wish, on the basis of that love, to become his wife?’ Amanda fired on, totally undeterred and unperturbed by the warning glare that Adamma threw at her. ‘Does this man love you and care for you?’

It was an unanswerable question that even Adamma herself did not know the answer to. It was a question she had asked herself severally but had met with a brick wall. And so she framed her reply carefully. ‘We both want the best for our kids and I also know that I am going to be very balanced in his house. We will be happy together; we may not love each other, but at least we’re compatible with each other.’

Amanda released a sigh of resignation and horror and her expressive features took on a look of horrified dismay. ‘My dear, you are stark raving bonkers! What the hell is wrong with you?’ she cried out in outrage. ‘A marriage of convenience! Is that what you want for yourself? Don’t you think that love matters more than anything else? Do you think you can stay with a man who does not love you? Would he be able to care for you? Listen to me: you need to be loved and cherished by a man who is worthy to be a companion to you. You deserve it after all you’ve been through in your life. And that man seems to be a ruthless, self-centered womanizer and arrogant bastard who care for no one other than himself. I read about him a lot.’

Adamma adopted a look of consternation before she summoned a reprimand for the meddlesome words of her friend which was an utterly cold assessment of her fiancé. ‘Oh, don’t be so silly and crazy in the head,’ she chided, waving dismissively. ‘I’m quite sure Obi is willing to change now that he’s getting married to me, one of the best screen goddesses ever encountered in this country.’

Amanda erupted into a gale of laughter and threw her head back, her long braids flying. ‘That’s a good one!’ she exclaimed excitedly, and then she mellowed instantly and became all serious once again. ‘I think the only reason 58

why you’re getting your sorry ass chained down to that man is because of the kids_ they have the right to know who their father is and be with him. But it’s so unfair to you. My dear, please be wise and try as much as you possibly can and forge out a new world for yourself, a world where you’ll be truly happy with your decision to get married; true, lasting happiness that washes away your sorrows and brings smiles to your face whenever you wake up and realize where you are. If not with that man, then try Dan. He loves you_ has always loved you, and will always do. It shines in his eyes whenever he looks at you, and he’s a good man.’

‘I know that Dan loves me very much,’ Adamma agreed quietly, sadness swamping her senses. But she managed to shrug indifferently so as to veil the sadness she felt. ‘But he’s been around for ten years, and yet he’s never made his feelings known to me in any way. My new beaux beat him to it, so I’m sticking to Obi. Nothing can change that_ it’s too late for Dan now.’

Amanda looked stricken as she asked, ‘Are you quite sure of what you’re doing?’

Adamma drew in a deep, unsteady breath, and that action was an almost palpable reminder of her single lifestyle and spinsterhood. As from now on, she was a man’s property, and her happiness was to be dictated by a man she barely knew. ‘I want the best for my kids,’ she answered, evading the question. ‘I want them to be as happy and as secure as is physically possible. They have a father who adores them, so I’m as happy as I can ever be. Their happiness is my paramount concern.’

Her ploy wasn’t lost on Amanda, who asked, in a voice that trembled with emotion now she was aware of the fact that Adamma was hiding something, ‘Does he love you? And are you in love with him? Does he care for you?’

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Adamma smiled sadly but supplied no answer to that question_ she was as much in the dark as Amanda were about Obi’s true feelings towards her, and was at a complete loss for words with which to proffer an accurate definition of the feelings of the sculpted Adonis she was getting married to. He’d most likely be cold and indifferent towards her, she reasoned. She would be a mere fly on the wall, an inconsequential article that had to be endured by his sensibilities.

She believed deep in the inner recesses of her consciousness, that her fiancé’s ultimate goal was to deflate her ego, to taunt her and subject her to ridicule at every turn, to break her spirit and her independence; he wanted to control her, to foist his decisions on her and expect her to obey him just like a docile lamb.

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CHAPTER FIVE

Adamma stepped back from the mirror and surveyed her countenance with a critical eye; she looked good, as had been intended. An avalanche of emotions surged through her, taking control of her senses, numbing her brain and making her sway unsteadily on her feet with dizziness. She felt terribly apprehensive at that moment, and butterflies clutched at her stomach.

Today is the day, she thought to her reflection in the mirror. It was an indelible part of her life, a constant companion to her for the rest of her life.

How could she just impassively walk out onto the garden, to be bombarded by an avalanche of reporters and cameramen? Then she would be delivered into the car that would drive her out to the church where she would say her marriage vows and chain her destiny permanently to a man she wasn’t sure if he cared for her in any way. It would all seal her fate. An indescribable horror, a gripping coldness surged through her, blocking out the influx of other thoughts. How could she ever possibly find out if her decision to marry Obi was a good one?

Did he care for her? If he did, would he be the physical embodiment of all that she’d craved; all the fantasies she had built up from the books she used to read when she was a teen? If he wasn’t, would she be able to live under his tyranny?

And what if she did not like the fact that marriage to him may not be the thing she had thought it would be? Then what if she ended up divorcing him?

She would then join the ever increasing ranks of Nigerian celebrities who were taking to the marriage wagon and getting out when they felt the journey was not worth continuing.

Considering herself to be too old for such girlie thoughts, she forced a pout before the mirror, and then, she turned and started walking towards the door, 61

only for it to be thrown open to reveal the object of her thoughts, standing there, smiling at her.

‘My dear girl, you look fabulous, absolutely ravishing,’ he complimented her, his eyes drinking the loveliness of her features and the fit of her gown. And she does look stunning, he thought to himself. The material of her wedding gown was duchess satin. It was a strapless gown that fitted the upper part of her body like a second skin, sweeping down to the floor in a voluminous swirl of white from the waist down, that glistened as the sun shone on it. Diamonds shimmered on her throat; her face was a mask of makeup that made her look so stunning, it almost hurt the eyes to look at her face. Sweeping down the length of her back in gentle waves, her glossy black hair sparkled, pulled back from her face with a tiara. She looked outstandingly beautiful, almost like a fairy tale.

‘My dear, you really are beautiful and glorious to behold,’ he told her truthfully, his voice a gentle caress. ‘People will go absolutely crazy when they see you today and then subsequently in the papers. But don’t worry.’ He gave her a warm, boyish, smile. ‘I know how to keep my dutiful wife away from prying eyes and interfering busybodies.’

She was looking at him, and there was something akin to anger in her luminous eyes. ‘You’re not supposed to see me before the wedding!’ she hissed in a low, intense voice. ‘It’s bad omen. It is bad omen.’ She made sure that she stressed each word.

He laughed her superstitions away. ‘That’s bullshit. You really believe that crap? Come, Mon Ami, please let’s not fight today_ at least not today. Come.’

Quietly, she followed him down the flight of spiral staircase towards the foyer where the plethora of servants waited to congratulate them and wish them well, and they moved into the garden which was a splash of greenery. The bride’s mind was awash in misery. In a few hours, she would utter the words 62

that would bind her to Obi’s side and trap her firmly in a state of physical hell or purgatory, a fire which even her popularity and celebrity status could not extinguish. It would be a fight, a pitting of her strength against the one man that was adored by women everywhere he went to. She had to put on a brave face; she had to be strong, and her mask of smiles was there to help her.

There were photographers everywhere; there were the usual press reporters and magazine representatives who all had a myriad of questions to ask: ‘Is true that you’ve finally found love?’

‘Do you intend to give up your career?’

‘What about your kids_ is he the father?’

‘How long ago have you two been dating?’

And on and on the questions went.

The cameras were flashing, and the din of many voices was drowning out every other thing. But she was oblivious of all of them as her eyes swept through the sea of faces, searching for familiar faces.

Hope came pounding her way towards her daughter-in-law, her arm clutching a bouquet of roses which she thrust into Adamma’s hand. ‘Take this,’ she said. ‘It’s for luck. Now you lovebirds run along to the church and have fun.

I’ll be on my way shortly.’

Then the bride was being rushed into the waiting car, and the doors were slamming shut, and they were driving to the church. And they got there too fast_ it was as if she was in a daze. All around her, she recognized a myriad of popular faces; there was a movie star who had always been after her for a date; there was the wife of a former president; there was another controversial female singer who garnered much negative publicity because of her wild love affairs_ the crème-de-la-crème of Lagos society had turned out en masse for the wedding. There were men she couldn’t recognize, so she added them to the 63

mental list of guests from her husband’s world. And then, even more puzzling, was the massive turnout of gorgeous, glamorous women who glared at her with open envy and hostility as the service progressed. These women, she added to the list of her husband’s lovers. Former lovers.

And then she was exchanging her marital vows, pledging a life-time commitment to Obinna Obiekwe, the man who had forced her to marry him.

There, she’d said it; she had uttered the words that would change her life and subject her to a life-long prison sentence. But if he were to tell her that he loved her, and he was getting married to her not because of their kids but because of her, then she would explode with joy and happiness. No, she amended to herself_ love was too strong an emotion for the arrogant Adonis to ever admit to; if he assured her that he cared for her, then she’d smile with contentment. It was all she wanted for herself.

After the church service, the wedding reception was staged at the Phoenix Hotels, one of Obi’s exclusive hotels on the Lagos Mainland at Yaba. The bride managed to feign an interest she didn’t feel; outwardly, she exuded happiness and excitement, but inwardly, she felt truly disgusted. She had stupidly pledged her life and fidelity to a man who was unscrupulous, and he had done likewise, but now, as she stared at him in scandalized horror while he flirted outrageously with the flock of beautiful women who thronged the room, she realized she had made a stupid mistake. She should never have married him.

Hope, who was seated next to her daughter-in-law, noticed the face of the glorious woman seated beside her undergo a dramatic change that couldn’t be masked by makeup. She leaned forward conspiratorially. ‘My son has always been like this,’ she whispered, patting Adamma’s arm. ‘He loves women and enjoy flirting with them. It gives him an odd sense of pleasure.’

Adamma managed to infuse a semblance of composure into her face before she turned to face Hope. ‘I beg your pardon?’

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Hope laughed. ‘My dear, you have much to learn about my son. On the outside, he’s quite a good man, but sometimes, other things take control of his mind. Gambling, drinking, and of course, women. Just tend to overlook this side of him and you’ll get along perfectly well.’ She sipped her wine slowly. ‘His father was like that when he was alive. We quarreled constantly because of it.

“Just be brainless, my dear Hope, and then you’ll be able to enjoy all I’ve got to offer you.” That was what Anthony said to me, and it was true: there was nothing I could do to make him stop.’

Adamma smiled in empathy and sympathy, though she refused to be drawn out to start discussing infidelity, and so she turned to survey the densely populated room. At that moment, she thought longingly of Dan. She hadn’t caught sight of him in the room, but she seriously doubted he would attend, and she couldn’t blame him. He still cared for her intensely.

A hand was waving excitedly in the air and a woman who was dressed in an all-pink ensemble that stretched tightly on her body frame materialized. It was Amanda, and she was smiling radiantly, one hand shoving strands of hair away from her face.

‘Hello, baby,’ she murmured, bending low to kiss the bride’s proffered cheeks and engulf the table in her expensive Chloe perfume. ‘I wish you happy married life.’ And then she bent forward again, her voice dropping even more noticeably low. ‘Dr. Peterson stopped by at my house, and he gave me the birth control pills you asked for. I gave them to your daughter_ take them away from her.’

Adamma nodded her thanks, and, three hours later, she gratefully sank into the back seat of the chauffeur-driven Bentley that would convey her back to her husband’s house. It was her house now, and Hope had wanted to pack up and leave, but she had adamantly refused to even envisage such a scenario_ it was

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Hope’s home, and she couldn’t possibly expect the poor woman to pack up and leave simply because another woman was coming into the house as its mistress.

My husband. . . The words burned in her mind with a ferocious intensity, like acid, eating at her raw flesh with the ease of a sharp scalpel slicing through flesh. It all seemed so wrong now, so unreal, that she had gotten herself chained down to a man whose arrogance and indifference far exceeded his sense of reasoning and humanitarian kindness and sympathy. A feeling of sheer dread engulfed her mind as she suddenly thought to herself that she’d sealed her fate; she had allowed herself to be manipulated into signing a marriage contract that she should never have gotten herself mired in. It was going to be a trying period for her.

OBINNNA SNEAKED A SURREPTITIOUS GLANCE at his wife who was seated beside him like a marble statue, and he contemplated striking up a conversation with her so as to fill the silence that engulfed the car’s interior, but he decided against that course of action because he felt she might not be amenable to it. Through the deepening twilight, her expression was unreadable, and it was an aspect he found puzzling and which troubled him greatly. He wanted to know what went on inside that head which was crowned with raven hair, and it was her stunning face, a mirror of the highest quality, that would invariably give away her thoughts. Was she a happy woman? That was the uppermost concern in his mind at that moment. And then, he felt the most important question crop up in his mind: did she love him? Was she crazy about him? He certainly wanted her to be in love with him, to cleave to him for support, to bear more babies for him.

His eyes narrowed at the direction his thoughts had veered into. Did he want more babies? Was that what he wanted from his wife? It was one hell of a tempting thought, an alien avenue he now intended to look into. He wanted 66

more kids; he loved kids. And he also wanted the challenge of making his proud wife bear them for him.

‘We’ve arrived,’ Adamma said shortly, interrupting the flow of his thoughts. He was jolted back to the present, but before he could alight, she had already climbed down from the sleek machine and was walking up the front entrance.

She ignored him pointedly and went to undress with the help of the cook.

After she’d divested herself of the gown, she took off her jewels and locked them up in the wall safe her husband had assigned to her, and then she sat down before the mirror and carefully creamed off her makeup. She emitted a sigh and then walked into the bathroom that adjoined the master bedroom where she spent the next twenty minutes soaking in the tub. When she returned to the room, clad in nothing but a skimpy bathrobe, she saw Obinna seated at a sofa in the room, perusing through a magazine which had a half-nude picture of her on its glossy back.

The fury she had barely managed to clamp down now threatened to erupt from her in waves. ‘You fucking bastard!’ she hissed at him in a voice that trembled with rage. ‘How dare you flirt with every fucking whore that was there at our wedding? Don’t you have any shame?’

Languidly, the object of her rage put down the magazine he’d been reading and looked up to stare at her. ‘Do you expect me to have any shame? Should I be filled with shame? I think the answer is no. My dear, I am a virile man who knows where, when, and how to entertain myself. You must learn to overlook certain attributes of mine so we can live in peace and for this marriage to be able to work out well. Did you think my marriage to you would disrupt my lifestyle; turn me into a docile lamb that flinches away from the members of the opposite sex?’

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Stunned, and bereft of all words, all the beautiful woman could do was supply a mute nod.

‘Good.’ Obi smiled at her wanly. ‘And for the record, I think it would only be fair for me to retain the services of some of my lovers just as you retain yours. Yes, the lovers. You are a stunningly beautiful woman, a former whore who sampled men like clothes_ please don’t tell me you don’t have any lovers now because I won’t be expected to believe it.’

But I don’t have any lovers; she wanted to yell at him, though she kept mute and said nothing of that sort. All she said was, ‘I hate you. Oh, how I hate you! You’re despicable and wicked, a super bastard without scruples.’ She threw him a withering glance that mirrored the contempt she felt for him.

‘You’re a devil, a fucking sadist! I shouldn’t have married you. But don’t worry, soon, I’ll ask for an annulment.’ Even to her ears, those words sounded lame and stupid; totally unbelievable.

Obi laughed at her words, and then he seized another subject to divest her of her anger and bitterness. ‘By the way, my dear girl, when you reeled off that edited history of your life to my mum; you never gave me the opportunity to tell you what I felt about it. Now, I’ll tell you. I was disgusted.’

She faced him squarely, presenting him her fine-boned profile and her proud, stubborn chin. She looked fierce. ‘I know you were disgusted_ at me. It was palpably obvious even to me.’

Obi laughed once again, and it was obvious to her that he was laughing at her. ‘No, you stupid dummy who is suspicious of everything. I wasn’t disgusted at you; I was disgusted at myself. I never knew what you’d gone through, how much you suffered at the hands of a cruel world. Now I know, and I say I’m sorry about it.’

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The brief flash of empathy in his voice and gaze warmed her and almost brought tears to her eyes, but she controlled herself. However, as he rose from the chair he’d been reclining on and strode purposefully towards her, a seductive smile playing on his full, sensual lips, the look in his eyes an unmistakable mirror of his desire for her, she drew back, horrified that he was already about to stake his claim on her body. He was trying to show her that she belonged to him and to no other man.

‘Stay away from me,’ she warned, shrinking back from him as if he was the carrier of a loathsome disease.

But she knew that she wanted him as much as he wanted her, so why was she acting like some wary virgin?

His face oozing amusement and arrogance at her antics, Obi drew her into his arms, his powerful muscles holding her effortlessly. He was determined to brook no opposition from her. He was fully in charge of their liaison, and his proud wife had to be made to accept that and not fight him.

However, he refrained from staring into her face directly, for her beauty had the effect of lightning on his mind. Darn! She was so beautiful, more than she ever appeared on the screens. The cameras couldn’t capture the fiery light in her luminous eyes, nor the spark of intelligence in her eyes, or the sensual vibes she constantly emitted like a beam that drew men like bees to her whenever she went out in public.

Slowly, he brought his lips down to hers in a kiss, his eyes challenging her to pull away from him or try to resist in any way; she didn’t. He kissed her thoroughly, savoring her warmth and her surrender. Here he was, kissing this woman who had bewitched him for years, and had haunted him and occupied his dreams and fantasies, and had reined him in and made him hers on that night at that whorehouse.

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His fingers traced the ripe swell of her huge breasts which she invariably flashed to her adoring fans in her music videos and showcased in the numerous photo shoots she did to promote her best-selling albums. Already, he was having a rock-hard erection as he thought of her body, and he felt his huge cock straining against the fabric of his boxer shorts. He drew her away from him so he could drink in her loveliness.

He looked at her and she looked at him _ they were appraising each other wordlessly, communicating to each other that the moment had arrived. He reached for her once again, drawing her into his muscular arms, and then his lips claimed hers. They kissed for a long time, and then, hand-in-hand, they moved towards the huge bed. There, he undressed slowly, and when he stood naked before her he undressed her, with the same slow reverence with which he’d attended his own clothing. To his experienced eyes, she was beautiful, as she had been from the very moment he had first laid his eyes on her, and he pressed his lips to the thatch of black hair that nestled above her hidden feminine triangle, eliciting a moan of pleasure from her lips.

‘You’re beautiful,’ he whispered, meaning it.

Standing up to his feet again, his arms encircled her slim hips and he began to kiss her again. His wet kisses touched her throat, her breasts and erect nipples, her flat midriff, and then he knelt before her, parted her legs apart, and his tongue connected with the damp feminine heat that he’d fantasized about. She moaned in ecstasy and held his head, and then he licked at her, making her cry out in pleasure and gasp his name. He focused his mind on giving her the utmost pleasure he could, and her moans of rapturous ecstasy fuelled him on.

He loved it that she was thoroughly enjoying the cunnilingus he was giving to her in spite of her earlier inhibitions, and he continued with his worship of her body.

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When her moans become too loud and more pronounced, he knew she was reaching the peak of her pleasure and he withdrew his mouth; he didn’t want her to explode immediately. He wanted the moment to be prolonged so she could savor each sensation as they swept over her.

‘Obi, please,’ she begged, dropping down to her knees so she could look directly into his eyes. She opened her mouth to say something, then thought better of it and kissed him instead, her tongue swirling around his in a masterful caress that almost had him begging for more.

‘You are a witch, do you know that?’ he asked, laughing.

‘I may be,’ she replied, smiling teasingly at him.

He nodded and they burst out laughing because they had declared themselves safe. He reached out for her body and her body was like silk, her lips tasked like berries. The sheer joy of touching her and kissing her and caressing her body was so sweet he could do nothing else. Something in her moans of response made him pause and look into her eyes.

‘Tell me what you want, my dear girl,’ he said gently.

She blinked rapidly and then said quietly, her voice almost a whisper, ‘Fuck me.’

With a smile, he drew her to the bed and as she lay down he slowly massaged his tumescent penis, then he knelt down before her, thrust her knees up so they were drawn up almost to her chest, and he inserted two fingers into her vaginal opening. They slid in effortlessly, and he drove them in and out for almost a minute, fucking her with his fingers, getting her more aroused as she moaned and moved her hips in rhythm with his fingers.

Unable to bear the ecstasy any longer, he removed his fingers and then gently guided his throbbing cock which dripped with pre-ejaculation fluids into her. Her vaginal muscles closed in around his cock’s shaft, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, her fingers stroking his firm buttocks.

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‘You are magnificent,’ she whispered, her voice a passionate murmur that was like a physical caress to his skin. ‘And you’re very huge down there. Please don’t hurt me.’

He kissed her reassuringly, and then he began to fuck her. His hips moved slowly at first as he kissed her patiently, and then he moved faster. His huge cock pounded her with a passion he’d never known before, and occasionally she’d stroke his back and buttocks to slow him down. When he was about to climax he stopped and flipped Adamma over so she was now on her hands and knees then he fucked her from behind. As he fucked her he counted numbers in his head, and on the count of fifty, he withdraw out of her, then he sat on the edge of the bed, his muscular arms bracing on the mattress for support, and Adamma lowered herself onto his cock. In this position he didn’t have much control; Adamma controlled the moves, so he was content to caress her taut, rounded butt and kiss her nipples.

She rode him with a melody and speed that almost made him see stars exploding right in the periphery of his vision, his eyes closed as the waves of pleasure swept through him endlessly, and then he climaxed, stars exploding in his vision, his semen shooting out into Adamma’s receptive body. He collapsed on the bed, totally spent, but his wife wasn’t done yet.

She knelt before him, took his cock in her arm, and then she put the organ into her mouth. Slowly, masterfully, she began to suck on him, almost smiling when he held her head and moaned with rapture. He was growing in her mouth, and then he became rock-hard once again. He called out her name, and then he began to move his hips, fucking her mouth slowly, savoring the sensations as they washed over him in waves. She sucked on the huge organ, and then, she took his balls in her mouth, sucking on them. She moved up, kissing his hard flat midriff, his nipples; she kissed his neck and then his lips. She moved up and kissed his nose, his forehead, and she was stroking his cock and rubbing his 72

balls. When she finally kissed his hair, she shifted down to his feet and started from there, moving up again. She teased him expertly, giving him small bites that made him moan with pleasure, and then she was sucking his penis once again, biting it, licking it like a stick of ice cream that she couldn’t get enough of.

‘Tell me when you’re tired of my tired of my torture of your body,’ she said teasingly, and she took him halfway into her mouth, her tongue swirling around the extremely sensitive head of his penis.

And then he exploded, his voice crying out her name, his fingers clenching into her hair. She swallowed the semen as the flow gushed into her mouth, and then she squeezed his testicles gently to squeeze out any that might remain in the sac.

Obi drifted off to sleep and she lay beside him, snuggled against his warm body. She awoke just as the sun showed above the horizon. Obi wasn’t in bed, so she got out of the bed, and, naked, moved into the bathroom. It had two marble counters, one sink, two bathtubs, two showers, and it was stocked with razors, shaving cream, and skin toning creams, essential body oils, brushes, and combs. She brushed her teeth, took a shower, slipped into a bathrobe, and then she headed back into the room and sat down on the bed to think and plan about her future.

It was an indisputable fact that her husband was a terrific love-maker, an insatiable machine in bed with his tumescent cock. She would enjoy him in bed_ he would always ask for his right in bed and she would never dream of refusing him. However, she had the last laugh: she had come into his house prepared for any unforeseen circumstances. Her first pregnancy had been due to the fact that she was still a green girl who had relied only on condoms and had been bitten on the ass. But her kids were indeed very beautiful and extremely intelligent. They were a source of joy to her, especially her daughter, Helen.

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Tears sprang to her eyes. They were tears of pain and sorrow at the prospect of living here without being loved by the man who had forced her to marry him. She was surrounded by wealth and opulence everywhere she looked, but she was unloved. And so she knew what to do: she would never conceive again for Obi. Not until he told her that he loved her and was ready to make her float high up in the clouds.

That was why she had stocked her cabinet with the Pill. She would never have to conceive for him and have herself give birth to a child in a completely loveless marriage. That would amount to torture and pain for her.

Her tears flowed then, streaming down her cheeks in an uncontrolled stream, and a wave of unutterable despair swept through her. It was a moment of private agony and sorrow for her, a moment she was sure no other woman would want to encounter or be forced to live through. And at that moment, she wished for her dead mother, yearned for the guidance of a woman who had been snatched by the jaws of death many years ago.

And she had to admit it to herself: Amanda had been right. She hated admitting it, but it was the truth. Her friend had foreseen the possible outcome of her stupid, loveless marriage to Obi, and now, all that her friend had been afraid of was unfolding before her eyes.

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CHAPTER SIX

Obi looked out at the garden which was awash with rain. His lips curled into a smile of wry amusement as he looked at the greenery of the garden. The completely unexpected downpour had inhibited him from going out to the office and had likewise compelled his totally rebellious wife to remain in bed after she had cancelled her morning appointment with her belly dance choreographer and the group of female dancers she intended to use in her much-anticipated upcoming single that she had released a lot of teaser videos for and which had her legion of fans waiting with bated breath for her to send the video out to the world to see.

He knew that she considered her life to be simpler when she had not married him, and she often told him that she would never have the time to think about him, or to trust him. She had told him that their marriage was one huge disappointment, one that was given the green light by the media who adored them wherever they went.

As he spent time with her, he’d gained considerable insight into the psychological makeup of her life. She was an extremely stubborn woman, and she resisted him in every way possible_ it was as if she was bent on making their time together as unprofitable as possible. He’d let her have her way sometimes, but when it related to sex, she was more than compliant to him with her body and her sexual affections. In bed, she was a completely different woman, and what she did to him whenever they were naked and engaged in hot sex, often made him smile in the mornings and forget his sorrows. She was an expert in the art of lovemaking, giving him small tasty bites that often had him begging for more. There she would be, licking at his body with her tongue and eating his cock with her lips, sucking and licking his balls, fondling him, teasing 75

him until he was almost at the point of release, and then she’d withdraw from him, smiling at him teasingly and calling him a bad boy in that voice that was like a caress to his senses.

She was also very strong-willed and opinionated, a very a stubborn and independent woman with beauty and brains to boot, a roaring flame who was swift to say what she wanted to say, when she wanted to say it. He was thoroughly fascinated by her; the flash of humor in her eyes when she engaged in stimulating talk with his mother_ Hope still lived with them, though in the east wing of the huge house_ his wife had bluntly refused that the woman would leave her matrimonial home for other lodgings, and he was grateful to her for it.

But what he really wanted was to make her his, to break down the barrier that separated them. He wanted to claim her love just the way he’d claimed her body.

He knew she didn’t love him; the unmistakable flash of hostility and anger in those bewitching luminous eyes of hers pointed to it unwaveringly. He hoped to one day make her love him and care for him the way she loved and cared for her children and those around her.

He pondered to himself what it would be like to be loved by a woman like her, and he was often so aware of her that he could think of nothing else. The black hair that gleamed like spun silk ,the smooth, fair skin, the long legs she loved showing off in her short skirts she enjoyed wearing because she knew how they teased his cock, the way her long body moved with the grace and effortless flow of a model. He often felt an urgent desire to own her, to touch her and never stop, to be closer to her, to be the bane of her existence, and none of her petty scheming would deter him from achieving his objective.

Crossing over to the master bedroom from his vantage point, he eased the polished door open and walked into the room to find his wife lying on the bed, her body posed seductively like the cover model of a magazine. He felt a stab of desire, and he was sure the woman was aware of the effect she had on him, for 76

he felt the stiffening of her body and the hardening of her eyes. She had been reading a fitness magazine, and she put it down, and the look she plastered on her face was one of indifference. It was what he invariably called her poker face.

‘Obi, my dear, I thought I begged you to stay out of this room, that I’m battling with an onslaught of headache because of the hectic schedule I’d had to put up with this week because of my new upcoming video,’ she said, and there was an undertone of annoyance in the well-modulated tones of her voice. She fastened a basilisk glare to his face, which merely amused him at how hard she fought him, how hard she tried. ‘Now please leave,’ she continued dryly, ‘and while you’re at it, would you please fetch me some aspirin from the kitchen cabinet? I need it desperately.’

‘On the contrary, my dear girl,’ he replied, ‘I’ll leave when I please, and I’m just not ready to leave yet. I think now would be the best time for us to talk.’

She laughed, and there was malice in her eyes as she said, ‘Oh, but we have nothing to talk about, and I wouldn’t deign to listen to your ranting. You’ll just be talking to yourself, dear.’

‘My dear girl, listen to me; you owe me ten long years, and now is my time to collect. Did you think I forgot all about you after we met at that club? I just couldn’t get the image of your body and your lovemaking out of my mind at that time, and you were supposed to come to my house the following day; I waited for you. Why didn’t you come to me like we agreed?’

She pushed herself to the extreme corner of the bed, and there was anger and sheer annoyance etched in her face as she looked up at him. She snapped, ‘I do not have the time to sit here and listen to your ranting about something that had happened over a decade ago. Can’t you just let sleeping dogs lie? And then, now that mention it, did you think I’ve been blind? Did you think I never notice

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the way you flirt around with whores who have no brains underneath all their hair and their bodies?’

‘I know that you’re not blind, but what I do with my spare time is none of your bloody business. I am a man, a virile man with a healthy libido, and I can go to any woman I want and satisfy myself with her. You should have more sense than to talk such nonsense.’ He wanted to tell her that he yearned for more than what they had together. What they had between them was nothing but pure sex, the clash of burning hormones which had nothing to do with love. He knew that she loved her manager and friend, the godfather of her kids; Dan. But what he wanted to know was whether that love transcended mere friendship, whether she loved Dan in that way.

‘But why would you dare to do it in places where you can be seen by other people? If you knew you had to go out and have your fun, why would you choose to be seen in the public so people who can put two and two together?

Have you no code of morality? Do you willfully choose to be so blatantly decadent?’

Face oozing with anger at the sheer audacity of this woman who had sworn to make their marriage a living hell; he raised his hand to strike her. It was the first time he had ever raised his hand with the intention to willfully slap a member of the fairer sex. But this woman had the ability to incite him to such anger, he often felt like committing murder, and she didn’t even flinch at the prospect of having her beautiful face slapped or battered by his fists. Her eyes were burning with indignation, and she was staring at him with a cold, controlled fury that matched his, and he could see that she seemed to be enjoying their verbal sparring. Her burst of anger totally amused him, and he was thinking to himself how very beautiful she looked in her anger, like a feral goddess.

Quelling the urge to compliment her on how stunning she looked in her anger, he commented grimly, ‘You’ve suddenly become jealous of my women 78

and that makes me wonder if you’ve not started to fall in love with me, hence the possessiveness and jealousy at the thought of seeing me with other women.

You are too proud to admit it, of course, and I know I’m right.’

RAGE WAS ERUPTING WITHIN ADAMMA, and she was feeling the strong urge to strike the face of the man who took such wry amusement in taunting her, and, inwardly, she was turning a shade darker than she was. She was furious, and she would never allow that anger to burst forth from her because it would give her husband a warped sense of victory over her.

As she looked at him, she felt such anger at him, such disgust at his stupid antics. And he thought she could ever fall in love with a conceited, manipulative man like him_ men are so stupid and terribly naive, she thought to herself.

She said coldly, ‘I have suffered in life, Obi. My parents died before I could grow up and be the lawyer they wanted me to be, and then my sister also died. It was one tragedy after another, and I was then forced into the streets to go and fend for myself or have myself gobbled up by the society. I was a hungry girl, who never had enough for me no matter how hard I tried, but then, Fortune smiled on me and I rose to staggering fame and fortune. I have everything I want, but, surprisingly, the only thorn in my flesh is my husband_ you. You are despicable, my dear, and I would gladly do anything I can to be rid of you.’

She could see he was laughing at her, making fun at her expense. But it was his next words, uttered with such carelessness and mockery, which made her temper snap. ‘You’re such a flaming piece of ass, and believe me when I tell you that I’m happy to be married to one of the greatest whores in the business; at least I get to have a free fuck whenever I want it.’

And she snapped, her fury erupting within her like a volcano. Her feet dragging her off the bed of their own accord, the magazine she’d been grasping firmly flying out of her hands, she hauled herself at her husband, her clenched 79

fist shooting out to deliver a well-aimed blow to his face. Effortlessly, he slapped away her fist and then he hauled her back to the bed as if she weighed no more than a feather pillow.

The force of the impact stunned her, and she lay there panting like an angry tigress, then flew up once again and launched her body at him. This time, he allowed her fist to connect with his hard chest, and then he twisted her around with a speed and force that knocked the breath from her lungs. He grabbed her by her hair which now hung in disarray around her shoulders, and she gasped and struggled against him, her fists pummeling at him. But it was as if she was fighting a brick wall, and he didn’t let her go.

It was a small voice which spoke from the doorway that froze the both of them into immobility and made her emit a low moan of pure anguish. ‘Daddy, let go of mummy,’ their daughter’s voice said with such anger and precision that Obi released her abruptly, making her lose her balance and topple flat on her face.

As she struggled to her feet, she had a glimpse of Obi as he controlled the expression on his face and turn to smile at the girl. But Adamma knew that her daughter would never fall for that trap; Helen was too perceptive to be fooled by fake smiles. ‘My darling,’ he said, addressing the girl in a cool voice that would’ve charmed even a snake, ‘aren’t you supposed to be with your grandmother, playing scrabble? I know that you love that game.’

‘Do not call me a darling!’ Helen hissed in an angry voice that was very unbecoming of her sweet face and customary angelic disposition. She scowled angrily. ‘I saw what you were doing to my mother. You were about to hit her, and yet, whenever I ask you if you love her, you claim that you adore her.’

Summoning the last shred of her dignity because she knew she would definitely need it in order to be able to tackle her daughter, Adamma barely managed to infuse a semblance of coolness into her voice as she addressed the

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furious Helen. ‘Your father was not hurting me, my dear. If he was, then I’ll surely beat him up. Now apologize for your rudeness to him right now.’

But the girl was adamant. ‘No,’ she said resolutely, completely undeterred by her mother’s look of silent plea. ‘He was trying to hurt you. But that’s not why I came up here. Dan called you, mother. He asked me to tell you to get ready, that you’re going to attend the St. Matthew charity party tonight.’

Adamma was in no mood for Dan’s infectious sense of humor and also be the recipient of that look of adoration which was intermingled with sadness whenever he looked at her, so she opened her mouth to tell Helen to call Dan and cancel the invitation, that she had other social obligations encroaching on her time, but she thought better of it. Why not go out with the handsome record magnate who was as good a friend and as loyal as a dog and make her husband die of jealousy? Why not indulge in a little dalliance with the man and watch what her husband’s reaction would be? It would give her a kick to see the look of murderous rage on his face.

She told the little girl to call Dan and respond in the affirmative, and, as she dismissed the girl from the room, she threw a scathing glare at her husband and saw that he was frowning at her. She plastered a mirthless smile on her face.

‘Surely the best father in the world, aren’t you?’ she jeered at him, her voice dripping with heavy sarcasm. ‘Remind me to nominate you for an award for Best Lying Father of the Year.’

Obi towered menacingly over her as she got back into the bed, his eyes blazing with black fury. ‘What was Helen talking about?’ he demanded angrily.

‘You’re going out with another man even though you’re married to me?’

She smiled lazily at him. ‘Yes, and is something wrong with my choice?

Well, I never knew you could be so jealous. That shows just how you much you care. Anyway, do you think my strapless Amy McBride gown will be suitable for the date?’ She was now enjoying herself. ‘Help me choose a gown, darling.

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And please do not try to impose a moral code different from the one you adhere to on me.’

Obi stared at her as if he’d never seen her before. He thought she had lost her mind. ‘Cancel that date or I’ll do it myself,’ he warned in a cold, hard voice that would have sent the nearest mice scurrying for cover. He was now perilously at the end of his patience, and he knew that he could easily throttle his wife to death in a moment of insanity. What gave her the heightened guts to try and flout his orders, he couldn’t possibly conceive, and even more disturbing was the wave of emotions and intense anger and jealousy that ripped through him like a tidal wave at the mere thought of his wife going out in the company of another man. Could this be that he was infatuated, possibly in love with this rebellious woman who took such perverse pleasure in taunting him?

Quelling the urge to laugh at his stupid imaginings, he lifted his shoulders in a shrug. He knew Adamma was itching for a fight with him, but he wouldn’t pander to her wishes. ‘My dear girl, I am not in the mood to argue with you, so I’ll let you go to the charity whatever it is you want to go to, but you must steer clear of that man, and also refrain from looking too provocative. That’s an order.’

And she was smiling at him in triumph, and she stood up to face him and look him squarely in the face. He turned his eyes down so he would not have to look into her face_ there was a magic about her that captivated him and trapped his senses. It was painful to look at her face; that magical face that had thrilled millions of fans from Lagos to the Federal Capital Territory, from the shores of West Africa to the entire continent; from Europe to the glittering fashion capitals of the world: Spain, Paris, New York, and even Asia. And when he looked into her beautiful face, something inside him snapped. Darn, he’d fallen for this woman like a sack of potatoes, and being this close to her, her nearness doing things to his body which had his cock tingling with desire, without being able to do anything about it, was pure torture. She was a vision of ecstasy, and 82

he thought that if she ever held him or touched him at that moment, he’d become more alive in her arms, his fantasies soaring to the high heavens.

He turned resolutely to go because there was something bewitching about being here in her presence. ‘I have to go, Adamma,’ he told her shakily, his body trembling. ‘I think I’m becoming crazy, all thanks to you, so I think it would be better for me to leave you alone now. Thank you for all you’ve done_ making me crazy, that is.’ Bending forward, his arms encircled her neck, he planted a kiss on her cheek, thinking that she’d pull away and hit him. But she didn’t; she wasn’t that malicious.

She held him, and returned his kiss. Then she pulled back, and he saw a strange light in her luminous eyes. He couldn’t claim to be a good judge of thoughts through a person’s eyes, so he couldn’t quite fathom what her strange look meant.

‘At least I did something good for you,’ she said quickly and smiled. It was a flash of white against the light brown of her face, but he couldn’t tell whether there was humor in it or not. He looked up to face her, and he stood a head taller than she was, even without his shoes on. ‘That counts for something, yes?’ she continued, and then she leaned forward and planted a kiss on his lips.

It was a mere brush of her luscious red lips against his in what could be called an innocent friendly gesture, but it got his blood heated up instantly.

Before she could pull away and dive back into the relative safety of the bed, he held her by her trim waist which she contrived to keep that way through rigorous exercises and a sometimes strict diet, particularly when she had to go on one of her famous tours; his dark eyes searched hers for any sign of withdrawal or revulsion at his touch. He expected it since they were always fighting each other and quarrelling and squabbling over nothing and everything.

He stood taller than she was, he was muscular and physically imposing to look at, but he felt a little uneasy holding her there, inhaling her heady feminine scent, afraid she’d pull back or hit him with her fist. She was even into boxing, 83

and so, could quite pack a blow. She did nothing; instead, she continued to look up at him, fire in her eyes, waiting for him to make a move, to take the lead, and at that moment, he began to feel an erection. Slowly, his cock began to rise, straining against the thin fabric of his underwear.

‘I’m not sorry about this,’ he murmured, his voice laden with desire. ‘It’s just that you’re standing so close to me, and touching me, and making me aware of you as a woman, and not just an ordinary woman, but a dangerously sexy woman who has a lot of sexual power over me . . . I wanted to run away at that club on that night as you stared at me with these incredible eyes of yours which can grab so much, and give so much when you wish to give; I had wanted to run away from you before you hooked me too tightly. But when you came at me in that corridor, and subsequently, I ran into you again after all those years had been spent hoping and praying that I would meet you again. . .’

‘Say it,’ she challenged, smiling wryly.

‘You have hooked me too tightly,’ he responded softly, pressing a thumb to Adamma’s lower lip which looked extremely sexy and kissable. She sucked in a breath, and then he knew that the desire swirling around the air was not in any way one-sided; she wanted him just as much as he wanted her. There was a passionate side to her, one that could not be stifled even by their fights and quarrels which they both seemed to thrive on as if it was their own aphrodisiac.

He continued. ‘You are a flame, one that burns in my loins. . .’ In my . . . heart?

My soul? . . .

‘Should I be glad or terrified?’ she asked with a mischievous glint in her warm luminous eyes.

‘Both,’ he managed to answer, one moment right before his lips sought and claimed hers in a deep, intimate kiss that practically knocked the breath out of his lungs. He entwined his arms around her slim waist, drawing her closer to him. He could feel the warmth of her body through the thin fabric of her dress, and he moaned as her sexy lips shifted from his to trace an invisible line down 84

his jaw, her kisses trailing down seductively to his muscled chest. . . And then her tongue swirled around his lift nipple, her mouth finding it even through the fabric of his shirt, moments before she sucked it into her mouth, making him to emit a gasp as the shock and pleasure of the electrical touch sizzled through him.

She bit the taut brown nipple with her teeth.

‘Ouch!’ he gasped, blushing; he was sure his skin color had turned three shades darker. But still, her sucking his nipple had felt good; it had excited him further. Sometimes, he thoroughly loved a lot of sucking and licking during sex, and he was quite sure that Adamma’s specially trained mind had latched on to that piece of information; her time as a teenage sex worker had enlightened her to a lot about the male erogenous zones and erotic preferences. She was smiling at him knowingly, a gleam of anticipation in her eyes.

‘Let me see to your utmost pleasure,’ she murmured seductively, her voice a cat-like purr of pleasure that sent waves of pleasure slicing through him. Her breaths came in uneven gasps, and she was almost panting. ‘Let me worship you. Let me worry about the numerous moves that are necessary. But we can’t lose control in here, darling: this is my room, so it’s most inappropriate for us to just strip off our clothes and have sex. I do not want to take you here; I want you to take off my clothes with your teeth and then take me on the table.’

And then she was smiling at him in that seductive way that had made her so famous, her fingers working on the buttons on her shirt; she was flashing her breasts which were encased in a hot-pink bra at him, and then she was leaning forward, her lips kissing him, her hands stroking his fully erect cock through his trousers. ‘So huge. . .’ she murmured approvingly as he ached and rubbed against her hand. ‘You are magnificent. Now, take off that thing you’re wearing; I want to really touch you.’

He obeyed her, and when he pulled his trousers and boxers down to his knees, his huge cock springing free from the confines of the material that had restrained it, she signaled for him to stop. Smiling warmly at him, she took the 85

erect muscle in her hand and stroked it slowly, her fingers working from his pubic region and sliding up the full shaft of his cock to the head which she massaged masterfully, making him to shudder and gasp out her name. She then knelt before him and took the organ in her mouth, her tongue swirling around the extremely sensitive head of his cock.

‘Baby, you’re so good,’ Obi gasped, throwing his head back and driving his hips forward slowly so as to have his organ buried deep inside her mouth_ as much of him as she could accommodate anyway. ‘I want this to go on forever.’

And then she pulled her mouth free of him and rose to her feet, her eyes gleaming with cold triumph. ‘Now that you’re fully erect and rearing to go like a charged beast, let’s see what you can do about your erection. As for me, I want to go and have a cup of tea, and then I’m going to play with my daughter and enjoy a new Tess Gerritsen thriller before I go out for my dance practice.’

She turned and headed towards the door.

Obi stared after her, stunned. She had already thrown the door open.

‘Wait!’ he cried; she stopped. ‘You can’t just leave me here like this.’

She laughed. ‘I can, and what’s more, I will. What you do not know is that we whores really do know how to leave a man with an itch that’ll drive him crazy. Let’s see what you intend to do about that monster you’ve got in-between your legs.’ She turned to look at him squarely in the face and then she blew him a kiss. ‘Enjoy yourself, honey. Helen!’ she called out, turning towards the door and throwing it open. She stepped out of the room and banged the door shut.

‘Mummy is coming to play with you!’ she called.

Obi balled his fingers with frustration and glared at the door in annoyance, and he knew that if he had a gun, he would surely use it on his wife. And for the second time in his life, he was forced to masturbate in front of his wife’s picture which adorned the east wall in the huge room_ the first time had been the night when Adamma had failed to turn up at his apartment so they could enjoy a night 86

of passion; that was ten years ago. As he stroked himself, he inwardly raved at her, and when he finally spewed out his ejaculation, he murmured her name and then he burst out laughing.

He’d give it to the woman anyway; she really did know how to exert punishment. But he’d get her for this. That was his promise to himself as he walked out of the room ten minutes later and slammed the door shut behind him.

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CHAPTER SEVEN

A feeling of relief was surging through Adamma as she waltzed down the stairs to the other side of the house as she sought out her daughter for the game she’d promised her husband she was going to play with the girl. She had defied him, had shown him that she was no little girl to be ordered around or a fool to be trifled with as he pleased. She knew he was being unreasonably stubborn and jealous even though he knew it was Dan who was like a brother to her that was going out with.

The simple truth was that she really loved the man Dan, but it was not in the way that Obi thought that she did; she loved Dan as a brother, not as a lover.

She felt heated up, her skin still burning from his sex touch; she had to admit to herself that she wanted no more than to go back to the room she’d just fled from, pull down her skirt, and have him insert his throbbing manhood into her and pound her all day long. But that would be self-contradictory, she thought, sighing to herself. She had to stick to her guns, and she was happy with herself; she had taught him a well-deserved lesson, one he wouldn’t forget in a hurry.

Her first act of rebellion that evening was to don on a breathtakingly lovely, low-cut gown that showed off an unholy amount of cleavage at one end and a nice view of her long legs at the other end; it made her look provocative and divine with its white color and the light makeup she applied on her face. Her hair was left free to hang loose around her shoulders, completing the effect she’d intended, and her second act of rebellion against her husband was to go to the dinner party with the man he’d warned her to steer clear from.

‘My dear, you look wonderful!’ Dan breathed when he laid his eyes upon her. His eyes lit up with appreciation, and she couldn’t help flushing with a deep sense of pride which not even the image of her jealous, possessive husband 88

could dampen. Here was a man who appreciated her beauty and took pride in her as a woman, not the hypocrite she’d gotten herself entangled with, who viewed her as nothing more than a trophy on his wall and an object of sexual gratification.

And when they arrived at their destination, she was happy to see a sea of paparazzi and photographers on the premises. Ordinarily, she never took vain glory in their fawning. She had always treated their fawning with quiet, amused indulgence, but today, fuelled on by a deep sense of rebellion against her husband, she decided to pull out all the weapons she had: she knew the allure of her beauty; she knew that she could stop traffic. When Dan came around to pull her door open for her so she could alight out of the car and step into the cold night, she dallied a bit; the paparazzi had seen Dan, and they knew he was her business manager, and that meant that she was with him, so they waited for her to appear.

One long, bare leg which was encased in black, five-inch wedges appeared, and the cameras flashed, and then she showed off the second long limb, her bare skin exposed; the cameras were flashing, missing nothing. She finally stepped out, and she flashed a dazzling smile at them, contriving to look so sexy and seductive as she leaned her body into her surprised companion and posed, and then she turned and walked gracefully up the stairs. Her mission had been accomplished; she had given her jealous husband something new to be jealous of and had given her fans what they wanted and the gossip tabloids new fodder for their columns.

And Obi was indeed jealous when he saw the provocative pictures of his wife being plastered with glee on the internet. The following day, when she returned from one of her studios after a recording session, she found an angry man waiting for her upon her return, waving a Pocket PC in her face the moment she stepped her feet into their room.

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‘And what is this?’ he demanded. ‘Since when did you choose to take your whoring expertise out into the timeless pages of the internet? And why were you falling into Dan as if you wanted to devour the poor man? Did you wish to seduce him? And why did you flout my orders? I told you not to leave here with any provocative rubbish on your body!’

She merely smiled at him. ‘Don’t tell me you’re jealous, darling,’ she said dismissively. ‘It was just a dress. And besides that, you’ve always drummed it into my head that I’m a whore, so why are you now angry that I’m playing the part of a whore, and trying to preclude me from doing the one thing I know how to do?’

And she could see his jaw clamp shut with anger, though he said nothing further, and he turned and stomped into the adjoining bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him with a loud bang that shook the floors. She called out, ‘Darling, please mind how you bang my doors like a mad man. Such unbecoming behavior won’t be tolerated by me. Try it again, and no sex for you for a week.’

In response, a glass shattered inside the bathroom, followed by such vituperative outpourings as would undoubtedly set the ears of a monk ablaze with shock. She laughed softly to herself, though she feigned annoyance and called out in a loud voice, ‘Now, there will be no sex for you for a week.’

That night, when they had retired to their bedroom for the night, she washed up, put on a sheer red nightgown that could barely contain her huge breasts which she had stuffed into it and her long legs which was barely covered, dabbed some perfume which was loaded with aphrodisiac, and then she sashayed her way back into the room. Obi instantly became filled with burning desire the moment he saw her, and he reached out for her, but she raised her hands in mock horror, stalling his movements.

‘What exactly do you think you’re doing?’ she asked, one arched brow tilting up, her lips curling with annoyance and feigned distaste. She knew the 90

effect she had on him, but she wanted to punish him for trapping her in a loveless marriage and rubbing her past life in her face, so she wanted to tantalize him and then leave him frustrated, and then she’d make it up to him another day when they weren’t fighting each other. But the point remained that they were always fighting like cat and mouse.

‘I am about to make love to my wife, that’s what,’ he replied.

‘And why would you do that?’ she asked, curious to know the real reason why he wanted to ravish her body. Was it because he wanted another child, other children from her? Well, that would certainly never happen. At least not until he told her that their marriage of convenience meant more to him than nights of unbridled passion and the chance to be with their children whom he adored and pried with ridiculous amounts of gifts even when they did not need them.

‘I find your body adorable, my dear,’ he said, licking his lips in invitation.

He pulled her into his arms, his manner brooking no arguments, and his lips nibbled at her throat, his fingers caressing her breasts through the flimsy nothing thing she wore. And he was already growing hard through his boxer shorts; he hadn’t changed into his pajamas yet because he was working on a report in his laptop. ‘You are so soft, so yielding when you choose to be. But you always fight me and ridicule me when all I want is for you to obey me and have fun with me. You are my wife.’ He gently eased the nightgown away from her shoulder, and one breast swung free, and he put his mouth to the raspberry nipple, drawing it into his mouth and sucking it, eliciting a gasp of rapturous pleasure from her.

She held his head and caressed his smooth back, and her fingers were tracing a line down his abdomen towards his crotch. She let her fingers slip past the waistband of the shorts, and then her fingers were closing around the tumescent cock, and she was stroking him. She pulled the throbbing organ free from within the confines of the material he wore, and she rubbed her hips 91

against it, knowing how well it excited Obi. She said, ‘I know our marriage is a sham, but we respond so well to each other in bed. Can you imagine what it would be like if we were in love with each other?’

‘Well, we’re not, so quit talking and let me focus on what I’m doing to you,’ he said impatiently, his fingers seeking, and finding the wet opening inbetween her legs. He kissed her lips, her neck, her throat, and then he was fondling her breasts and touching her most private, most erogenous zone.

Something in her moans of response made him pause. He looked into her eyes and she looked back at him, though her fingers continued to play with his cock and she continued to rub and purr against him luxuriously like a cat. He moaned in response.

‘Why are you giving me that look?’ she demanded.

He smiled mockingly at her, sucked a taut nipple into his mouth, and bit it before he looked at her again and answered. ‘You said there’d no more sex for me for a week, but here you are, panting like a bitch in heat, responding to my kisses and my touch. You contradict yourself too much, my dear, so I wonder: once a liar, always a liar.’ He watched with satisfaction as her face fell.

Adamma was furious with him for daring to dredge up their earlier quarrel, but she refrained from lashing out verbally at him. She wanted to lash out at him like a tigress for his cruelty to her; did he always have to rub it in her face that she had been a sex worker in order to survive? But she was a gutter fighter with a tough backbone, and she could take his insults and relegation of her status to the dregs of the society; however, she had her own ways of dealing with him.

She smiled. ‘I know what I said, darling, and I meant it. There will be no sex for you for a week.’ She looked up in concentration and then pointed at her own ear. Impatiently, she signaled for her husband to listen too. ‘Four, three, two, one_’ she said, and then she broke off and flew to her feet. A knock sounded on the door. Perfect. ‘Honey, you better get dressed and cover that thing up; we’re having some late-night guests.’ She quickly pulled up the dress 92

to cover up her exposed breasts, slipping into a robe as she called out cheerily, ‘I am coming, my darlings!’

‘What the fuck_’ Obi snarled in fury as he flew under the covers, his hands flying to his waist to pull up his shorts and cover up as his wife flew to the door happily, throwing it open and moving aside as their twin kids, both scrubbed and ready for bed, dashed into the room.

‘Dad, mummy said we’re going to sleep in here with you tonight,’ Ian said, smiling at him and hurrying forwards towards the monstrous bed that could easily contain seven adults simultaneously. He jumped into the bed and bounced about merrily. ‘This is going to be so cool! Helen, come on and join me.’

Helen, the older and more mature of the pair, walked slowly towards the bed and then climbed up, a smile on her lips. ‘This bed sure is huge,’ she said.

‘I’ll be sleeping snuggled close to mummy, and, Ian, you have dad all to yourself.’

Adamma was smiling in triumph at her husband as she beheld the fury that clouded his eyes. ‘Darling, the kids wanted to sleep in here tonight,’ she drawled in the sweetest tones she could muster. ‘I hope that’s all right with you.’

‘That’s fine, I guess,’ he answered gruffly. To the exuberant twins, he said, ‘Welcome aboard the ship.’

Adamma moved forward, clapping her hands with happiness. ‘Actually, there’s one more thing. They will be sleeping here for the rest of the week.’

‘What!’ Obi exploded, but immediately, the faces of Adamma and the twins fell. And then he relented instantly, knowing when he was bested. His wife had won this particular battle, and he couldn’t just turn his adorable twins out of the room without appearing bad to their eyes and their estimation of him as the perfect father might diminish. ‘Ok, kids; you’re in. Now climb in and let’s sleep. You are tired, no?’

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‘Yes!’ the twins chorused, and their mother silently sent a message of thanks to her daughter; if Helen hadn’t been exact in appearing at the door with her brother, then, she would undoubtedly be on the floor, moaning in ecstasy as Obi fucked her all night. And then her plans to seduce him and leave him in the lurch would have backfired at her because he would undoubtedly force himself on her if she refused to let him have access to her body. One thing she had learnt about him was that he was not a man who took no for an answer, and if she flashed her body at him and then withdrew, he would leave no stone unturned to make sure that she was in his bed that night.

He didn’t deserve to come to her bed. It was true that he had a body every woman alive would die for; it was true that he could make love with a wild passion, and could incite her to become a screaming, wanton sex maniac in his arms. But one thing was missing: he did not love her or care about her in any way; he merely saw her as a cheap fuck whenever he needed to quench the hunger of his ravenous libido. He often made it plain clear to her that she was nothing but a cheap whore, and there was no way she could make him see her for the true woman she really was. He considered her to be a dangerous woman, a femme fatale who he had to be extremely wary of; his wariness often showed plainly in his eyes and in the way he treated her.

And she knew that she was barely tolerating him because she wanted to make an attempt at setting things right between them; she wanted to make the marriage to work out so that she could have that love Amanda had told her to reach for. And she didn’t want to be like the other celebrities she knew who jumped into the marriage fray on a sunny day and dashed out on the next day.

And she also wanted her children to have a complete family, something she’d never had; she wanted them to have a chance at having a normal life.

So, it was obvious she had a mission; she had to make Obi like her, and if possibly, fall in love with her.

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ADAMMA WENT TO SEE AMANDA when she had the chance to so.

She was shooting one music video at Victoria Island, and Amanda was spending the weekend there with her mother-in-law who was recuperating from a minor operation to remove a cyst from her body. The two women met at Tetrazzini for lunch after Adamma walked out from her interview with a reporter from Alive magazine who wanted the details to the new pop album she was working her bones off to release and putting in hours of work at the studio to see that it took shape. There were numerous prospective female dancers to interview, watch them perform, and then make a decision as to whether the person was bold enough, and hard enough to bare some flesh and undergo a rigorous dance training session. It was all so exhaustive.

The two friends met at the fashionable Bella restaurant on the ground floor of the sprawling rich man’s playground, which was away from the main bar and from the prying eyes of those that bugged the singer, and Adamma was fashionably late in keeping to the appointment. As she walked towards the table Amanda had reserved for their meeting, she was halted by some of the patrons who knew her; she stopped for a minute to talk to a fashionably dressed couple who were having a quiet lunch at a corner table. And then she was walking towards her friend, and the seated woman stood up to hug Adamma and admire her ensemble.

‘You’re looking nice,’ Amanda said as they sank gracefully into the green chairs. ‘But you look a bit thinner. Do you rest at all?’

Adamma laughed, grabbing up a piece of doughnut and taking a huge bite out of it. She said, ‘Well, you know how it is in our business. There’s no rest for the wicked. What about Claudia?’

Amanda shrugged. ‘Fine, I guess. But that is not why I was so anxious to talk to you. I wanted to know about your husband. I disliked him from the first day I met him, but I guess that’s because I was playing the loyal friend to you

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and allowed that to cloud my judgment. Does he treat you nicely? Are you hopelessly in love with him?’

Adamma laughed so hard, crumbs of the bread she was feasting on flew out of her mouth, and some of the diners turned to smile at her; she looked so transparently happy. ‘Well, my dear, I got myself married to a machine,’ she said, finally sobering up after she’d enjoyed her laughter. ‘He loves sex so much, and can really use his thing, and so I have nothing to complain about.’

Amanda looked horrified, and she said severely, ‘You know I am jolly well not interested in your sex life, so please cut straight to the chase and answer my question about him. Does he love you?’

And the singer answered with gay cheerfulness, her arms waving expansively, ‘No, he does not love me. We fight all the time and we absolutely hate each other; we’re the perfect specimen of the perfect couple.’ And it was true. In public, they were the models of what married couples should look like and act like; they went everywhere together, and he bought her expensive jewelry and took her to exclusive hotels and clubs to dine out. They went to the beaches of Lagos, and the people they encountered, the people who admired her for her boldness and sensuality, often commented favorably on their union. To the media, their marriage match had been made and ordained in heaven. But the reality was a far cry from the perfection outsiders had painted of the marriage, she thought wryly to herself in amusement.

‘He does not love you,’ Amanda said in a low voice, her spoon hovering halfway in the air, her eyes narrowed in concentration. ‘And you do not love him in any way. So, what do you two have in common_ hatred?’

‘Yeah, you got that right,’ the singer replied cheerfully. She raised her cup of decaffeinated coffee to her lips and toasted, ‘To me and my husband; to our union which was ordained in heaven by the media.’

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Amanda shook her head in sorrow. ‘And couldn’t you try to love him? And can’t he also make that effort? Must you two be so terribly pitted against each other?’

‘Yes, dear, we can,’ Adamma replied, but this time, the cheerfulness had gone out of her voice and she looked dead serious. She smiled ruefully at her friend who was staring at her with such love and commiseration in her eyes.

‘The man says I’m a whore; he makes me feel so unloved, so bad, as if I was some kind of monster. Sometimes when I look at myself in the mirror, I almost believe him; I remember the time I had spent in that seedy club; I remember the men who cluster around the hundreds of tables, staring at me while I perform my act which they elevated to some kind of art form. There they were, leering at me with that look in their eyes that told me plainly that they all wanted to have my ass for a nice fuck. And my husband makes me remember everything so vividly, and whenever he’s annoyed with me_ which is quite often_ he would tell me that I was a whore; that I’m still a whore, and so had no right to refuse him whenever he wanted me. That is the classic couple, yes?’ and she laughed at her own bitter joke.

Amanda looked stricken, and she said, leaning forward towards her friend so she could say quietly, ‘I am very sorry about it. I never knew that it was that bad.’

Adamma nodded, and the cheerfulness had returned to her countenance. ‘I never knew too, so there it is. But at least I really get to enjoy his money_ I have unlimited access to his debit cards, and he pays what could be called a hefty salary into my account every month. I also get to be envied by those women who love him so much and wish to be in my shoes.’

‘That’s the worst thing I’ve ever heard you say. It is so terrible that he treats you so poorly and you see nothing wrong with it. And he calls you a whore!’ Amanda actually shuddered at the horrific thought. She frowned, and then she gulped down her glass of sherry to wash down her vegetable salad 97

before she plunged back into the conversation. ‘So, what do you intend to do if he continues to treat you in that way? What if he gets worse?’

Adamma waved one hand in utter dismissal; it was almost as if she hadn’t a care in the world. ‘Then I’ll look for ways to get rid of him. I’ll try and divorce him on the grounds that the marriage has broken down irretrievably but I think that would hurt my image very much, so who knows? I may even dispatch him to the next world and inherit his wealth.’ She laughed to reassure her friend that she’d meant it as a joke_ the last part. But she hadn’t been joking when she’d talked about divorcing her husband and gaining her freedom from him. If he continued to goad her on and taunt her, showing her how he regarded her with derision, then she would have to do something about him.

Amanda’s smart phone dinged and the woman looked at the screen of the phone, groaning out loud as she flipped locks of hair from her face with an impatient gesture. ‘I have to go,’ she apologized, smiling ruefully and lifting her shoulders in a shrug. ‘I have to take Claudia to the doctor’s for her appointment with him. Well, we’ll see each other very soon, next week at the latest.’ She kissed the singer on the cheeks. ‘I love you, and I am truly sorry about the way that animal treats you. How I wish you had listened to me and not gotten yourself entangled in a union of convenience, then you wouldn’t be in this mess.’

‘I was acting for the interest of my children,’ Adamma replied dryly. She looked up at her friend, seeking desperately for her friend to understand her plight. ‘At that particular time, I’d had no choice but to marry him and it had seemed the easy thing for me to do. It was my only option, and he would have hounded me to my death if I had stuck to my refusal to become his wife.’ She leaned back in her chair and looked into the eyes of her closest friend, her luminous eyes burning with emotion. ‘And do you know what really made me to agree to his marriage proposal?’

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Amanda smiled ruefully, and it was obvious to Adamma that her friend knew why; Amanda was no fool. Amanda said, ‘He forced you, my dear. He used his wealth and influence and browbeat you into getting his wedding band around your finger. That was why I had been against the union from the very beginning, but what could I do? And what’s more, what could you do? There was nothing you could do back then, but there is something you can do now.

Make him fall in love with you, or at least you can die trying.’

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CHAPTER EIGHT

Adamma donned on the emerald-green gown she had been slated to wear for the party she was going to attend that evening. It was being hosted in the honor of the outgoing German ambassador to Nigeria, and she was one of the lucky invitees to the party_ Dan had told her that the man was enamored of her music, and so she’d had no way to beg off the party without appearing rude to him. She knew that her rakish husband would attend; they were even supposed to go together, but he’d called her at the last minute, telling her to go on ahead, that he was being delayed at the office. She darkly wondered if the delay was being caused by one of those women who were so in love with him. I must be getting old, she thought wryly.

When the chauffeur-driven car arrived at Almanac’s, she alighted from the car and then, without the need to proffer her invitation card to the security men who manned the gate, she was led right inside, past some of the guests who had to suffer the indignity of waiting in a long queue for their names to be sorted out.

She headed straight for the ambassador after she had invariably halted in her strides and exchanged pleasantries with their hostess, a crossover classical opera singer.

The man was extremely pleased to see her and he personally expressed his gratitude that she had agreed to come. And then she found herself being drawn into conversations with some of the nearest guests with whom she was acquainted with, and even though the room was packed with well-scented bodies who buzzed with aimless conversation, she managed to plaster a look of interest on her face. As she listened to their host rattle on about the snake delicacies he’d sampled on his visit to the North, she found herself searching around the room for her traitorous husband whom she knew invariably would attend; she had to be with him so that she’d give the other people around the 100

impression that she was a happily married woman. Her quest to win her husband over to her side and make him see her differently had already begun.

And surely, he attended. From his vantage point on the dark, unlighted terrace, Obi was watching the men and the women in the room, talking their hearts out. He hated the fact that he was being forced to put in attendance at such an affair and had tried to beg off, but his mother would never hear of such cowardice or rudeness on his part, so he’d donned on the green tuxedo he’d ordered earlier that day and had driven out to come and pay his respects to the ambassador. The dizzy spell that had been caused by the arrival of his wife had not yet worn off and he was still reeling inwardly from its effects. Her arrival in that gown had made the entire party hold their breath, and he was forced to grudgingly admit to himself that she was true physical perfection.

Obi approached her as she was deep in conversation with an American woman whose raven black hair, bright blue eyes and alabaster skin contrasted with her all-white ensemble, making her look almost angelic and divine in the sea of green that was all around them.

As the woman bestowed a charming smile on him and excused herself, sauntering off in the quest of other characters, Obi smiled at his wife who looked outrageously calm as she stared at him with those luminous eyes that always had the capacity to burn holes right through him.

‘So, you’ve decided to entangle as much men as you can into your web of seduction,’ he remarked, watching with satisfaction as her shoulders sagged.

‘Surely, you do know how to make use of your gifts of feminine allure.’ But before she could make a reply, he hurried on, raising one hand to forestall her from saying anything. He said soothingly, ‘My dear girl, please let’s not fight or quarrel here. Let us call a truce, at least for now, giving the assemblage the impression that we’re hopelessly in love with each other.’

That we’re hopelessly in love with each other . . .

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Those words, uttered with such flippancy, burned through Adamma and stung her senses like a legion of vengeful scorpions. Her emotions were sent into a tunnel of sharp pain which she hadn’t anticipated in any way. She asked herself: why would Obi single himself out to be the source of her doom? Why would he choose to single-handedly extinguish the light in her eyes with just one devastating sentence?

She knew that this man did not love her; the reprehensible creature was seemingly incapable of showing such a selfless emotion, but couldn’t he try, however slowly, to lessen the burden he’d inflicted upon her by chaining her down to a loveless union that would horrify even the most insane of women. It was now as clear as crystals that she was merely a name in his list of women, singled out specifically for making him look respectable in the eyes of the society. And was this the man she had been harboring such hopes for? Was this the man she was planning to bend so he could love her? And he was a womanizer_ at least that was what she felt in her heart. And there was nothing on earth to make her believe that he was not getting it from those leggy women that thronged through the hallowed halls of his establishments.

‘Obi!’ That husky, well-modulated voice which was meant for the bedroom jolted the singer back to the reality of her surroundings and she turned, fastening her eyes at the intruder who was making her way over to them with a sway of curvy hips. Adamma stared at a head of acrylic hair that shone with its faux gloss; she stared at the beautiful face which appeared a bit older than her own, and sensuous lips that curved in a sexy smile. The woman cast the barest of icy smiles in her direction before she turned her attention to Obi. She seemed to have come to animated life at the sight of the magnate.

‘Darling!’ the woman gushed, and then she swept herself into his arms to be given a warm kiss that nearly sent Adamma over the edge and had her eyes deadening with anger. But, to the shock and the secret surprise of the singer, her 102

husband held the wench off with a hand while he gave her what his wife had already termed his businessman smile.

‘I’ve been looking everywhere for you, and then here you are. I just returned from Holland with some goodies I know you’ll love, and as you know, this party is just boring. So why don’t we make arrangements to excuse ourselves and get the hell out of here? It’s been so long! Look at you_ how dashing you look! So, if this woman will excuse us?’ The woman’s brown contact lenses flashed at the singer with a hint of anger and cold triumph.

‘Oh, but of course,’ he replied, choosing that golden moment to get back at his wife for the way she teased him with her body. She had really punished him, pushing him over the edge, and then leaving him to be thoroughly frustrated and horny with desire for her. He had promised to get back at her, to punish her for what she’d been doing to him with her body, and now seemed like the best time to fulfill that promise, and so he curled one arm around the woman’s waist and smiled adoringly into her face. He knew that his mother would be so proud of him because of the fact that he was a magnificent actor. He would dump the bitch who had dared to act so oblivious to his wife as if she was nobody and then get back with his wife.

Stupid Della, the one who knew as much as the next woman that he was now married to the singer but had chosen to ignore that fact now.

‘But Obi_’ Adamma began, stunned at the deliberate rudeness of her husband. Tears glistened in her eyes.

‘As it happens,’ Obi snapped, faux repressive coldness in every line, ‘Della and I have a lot to catch up on because we’ve missed out a lot on each other’s lives.’ There, he had done it. He knew that what he had done was reprehensible, but he just couldn’t resist the jab. And the look on her face: priceless.

Obi led the woman away, while Adamma stood there, her fists balled with fury, her eyes glaring after their departing bodies. She was furious with Obi for daring to throw such an insult at her, and she knew he was doing it for revenge 103

at her for some imaginary sins she’d committed. And there, witnessing all that had transpired was Lady Smith, a gossip columnist for Who’s On Board magazine. Adamma wished the ground would crack open and swallow her up.

To her, Obi was such a wicked, cruel, and remorseless sadist, choosing such a public place to shame her and pour ridicule upon her. The utter sense of desolation she felt knew no bounds.

Holding her head high so as to give the impression of unconcern, Adamma turned around to walk away, and then she stopped short. Obi was standing at the far end of the room, leaning against a wall, and the woman_ Della_ had her hand in his pocket, and they were talking in hushed tones. Adamma could see Obi close his eyes and tilt his head back: she knew that look; it was his look of rapturous pleasure, one he often adopted whenever she was licking at his body with her tongue and he was enjoying it so much. Now, she needed no binoculars to look closely so she would know that the woman had her hand fondling his cock.

She nearly snapped, and black rage seized her mind. Whirling round so she wouldn’t go over to them and crack the woman’s skull open, Adamma collided with Dan, the very last man she’d expected to see there, but before he could register his shock at her murderous expression, she grabbed his wrist in a viselike grip and hissed in a low voice, ‘Take me away from here before I commit murder! The bastard has done it again! The filthy, bloody devil! I hate him, Dan! I hate him!’

Without giving her astonished listener the time to recover from his shock, she turned and marched him out of the room, and she was aware of the compassionate eyes of the hostess glued to her back; obviously, the poor woman had seen what had transpired. They walked to Dan’s white Acura, and when the silent man with her unlocked the car doors, she got into the front seat and trembled with rage, and from her lips came the sounds of unspeakable anguish.

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Dan slid in beside her, and in the faint lights that wafted in from the house, she could see that he looked worried. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said.

‘Just drive!’ Adamma hissed, and then, as the car slid out of the premises, she burst into tears. ‘Just take me away from here; do not take me home because I have no home. Take me to your apartment.’

Dan looked sideways at her. ‘I know your husband has not been the best of spouses to you, and I’m very sorry about it. But please do not tell me that you hate him, because you don’t. You’ve always looked so happy to me, and you’ve got that glow in your eyes; and now, you’re possessive of him and jealous of the fact that another woman is jerking him off in public_ I saw what you were fleeing from, and I could have killed that bastard. But what good would it have done? It’d have spoiled the party, and then your name would be dragged into the pages of the newspapers. And I know you don’t want that because you’re in love with him.’

Adamma threw him a scathing glare, and then she burst out into bitter laughter. ‘You idiot,’ she snapped. ‘I would rather be dead and buried than be in love with that bastard.’ And then she looked at the loyal man who was seated beside her, and she felt a pang of regret and sorrow that she had not gotten herself attached to him. It was plainly obvious that he was in love with her; he had been from the very moment he’d set his eyes on her, and yet he’d never moved to take advantage of her. He was so different from the arrogant devil she’d married, and she knew he was hurt that he hadn’t gotten her to himself.

But he’d unreasonably delayed, and he hadn’t even touched her beyond the occasional kiss and the heat that was always mirrored in his eyes whenever he looked at her.

‘Pull over,’ she ordered, and he did so, turning off the ignition and then twisting round in his seat to look at her. She continued, fuelled on by a sense of anger and rebellion. ‘I know you’ve always loved me_’ ‘And I always will,’ he replied.

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‘Well, I also know you’ve fantasized about me a lot_ I can see that look in your eyes.’

Dan squirmed uncomfortably in his seat, obviously at a loss for an appropriate response to the succinct observation. ‘Well, a man has got to indulge his fantasies once in a while.’

Her chest heaving at the direction her traitorous thoughts had veered into, her cheeks became suffused with warmth, and she was swimming in an ocean of ecstasy, like a man who’d had too much beer to drink. All her senses were tuned in to the music she was playing to herself; it was the music of rebellion against the man who had sworn to ill-treat her. And she’d decided to play the same game he was playing; the idea of infidelity was growing in her mind, warming her, preparing her for her next line of action.

She leaned forward, breathing heavily, her fingers working into the chest of this man who had done so much for her, and yet she’d failed to pay him back properly, as a woman should. She brought her lips forward, engulfing him in a cloud of her perfume, and before he could protest at the inappropriate and scandalous nature of their position, her lips touched his. She felt him gasp, and then he seemed to relax, his rigid posture on the seat relaxing. He was reaching forward to her, his fingers touching her neck, brushing against the top curves of her breasts, and she was moving forward, their bodies joining with a primal need that blocked out all thoughts.

Suddenly, he broke away and stared at her, disbelief written on his face.

‘Are you for real?’ he demanded.

‘Dan, make love to me,’ she whispered in that low, sultry voice that had made many men in the past flip with desire and forget whatever inhibitions they had and taking her; it was the voice that chained her husband down to her bed and had him fulfilling whatever favors she’d demanded. ‘Show me how much you love me.’

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And her fingers were brushing against his chest, moving down to his crotch where she felt a hardness that strained against the fabric of his trousers.

Dan shook his head as if to clear it, and then he groaned loudly and buried his face in his palms. ‘My darling,’ he said, raising his head to look at her.

You’re not in your right senses. Do you know what you’re trying to do? Are you trying to fuck me just so you can be even with your husband?’

Lost in the sheer seduction of what she was doing, she pouted indifferently, ‘So what? Look here, Dan, my husband drove me into this and so why not have a little fun while I have the chance? And I am not changing my mind because of your qualms and your sense of morality. If you’re not interested in me, then fine; there are more than a million men who would die just so they can have me. So, my darling, you can either accept me or you can refuse; that won’t stop me from going on to the next place I can find and getting myself a cheap fuck.’ She reached for him once again but he shoved her hands away.

‘You’re definitely mad!’ he snapped. ‘You’ve become insane, and not only that; you’ve also turned stupid. Now let me advice you, dear. For the sake of your dead parents and your sister, and everything you hold sacred in this world, do not jump into something you’ll definitely regret. What would people think of you? They’ll be disgusted at you.’

Her eyes misted once again, and she started to cry because of the condemnation that had been washed over her. Her sobs racked her body, and she realized that Dan was right; what would people think of her? What would her family think of her wherever they were? And it was at that moment that it dawned on her that she lacked the coldness and the detachment to carry on with her plan of infidelity against her husband in spite of the fact that he was a cruel beast; she’d just have stripped Dan naked, and then she’d come to her senses and he’d be extremely angry with her for being such a tease; a cock-teaser. How could she possibly break her marriage vows to Obi? She couldn’t.

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But then, it came to her that her husband would never try to make such a fool of himself in the eyes of the public. Perhaps, there was another explanation for the fact that the woman had her hand in his pocket while he had that pretentious smile on his lips. She knew him well enough at least to know that he was not the type of man that would make a public fool of her in the glare of the public. Now, she felt really ashamed of what she had tried to do.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said through her tears, her body shaking with tears. ‘It’s just that Obi has dealt me such a cruel blow_ the natural instinct is for me to fight back at him. And now I can’t even . . .’ She burst out into a huge sound that was part silly tears and part laughter.

Dan’s features softened; he heaved a deep sigh and then gathered the sobbing-laughing woman into his arms. ‘That’s it, my dear,’ he said, stroking her back gently as if she was a kid, soothing her. He pressed a kiss to her fragrant hair. ‘If only you’d listened to Amanda when she advised you, then you won’t be having these problems. I had wanted to interfere then but I didn’t because I had the feeling you knew what you were doing. Besides that, he’s the father of your kids and it was only fair for the children to stay with their biological father. But now, I wish I had been faster.’

Adamma drew away from him, strangely reassured by his words. She pulled out a handkerchief from her purse and dabbed at her eyes. She was horrified that her makeup was ruined, and then she burst out laughing at the twisted sense of irony she felt. ‘My husband has ruined me,’ she said on a lighter note. ‘He’s punishing me for keeping his children away from him.’

Dan started the car. ‘You need to rest, my dear,’ he said, easing the car back into the Mainland traffic. He put on the stereo, and the duet between the Italian tenor Andrea Bocelli, and Sarah Brightman, Time to Say Goodbye, filled the car’s interior. And then, he was driving her home silently, and they were both lost in their own thoughts.

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When they arrived at Obiekwe residence, with the opulent grounds lighted up like some Christmas tree in a fairy tale, Dan declined to follow her into the house. He walked her to the front brass doors which were lighted up with white light that spilled out into the garden and the long, curved driveway which was lined with a wonderful array of trees, and then he talked to her for a few minutes.

When he turned to go, Adamma was filled with a deep sense of loss, and, on an impulse, she hugged him and kissed him on the lips, and he pulled away, slightly embarrassed. But she was not annoyed; he was shy in an appealing way, and she was now almost sorry that she hadn’t taken to him to bed all the time they’d been together. If she had, she knew she would have entangled him firmly around her little finger, and he would have married her, and then Obi would not have dared to walk into her life. Then that would have taught the bastard a lesson.

She then turned and walked into the house after she’d watched him put the car in reverse and drive away from the opulent grounds. She walked past the foyer, kicking off her sandals as she did so, and then, wearily, she made her way towards the huge, downstairs living room which was decorated more like a palace than a private sanctuary. She now felt she hated this house and everything in it; there were servants everywhere to attend to every need, though she often refused to let them wait on her because she remembered her own humble beginnings and the suffering that went with it; she insisted on preparing the meals herself, though the cook was filled with horror, insisting that she was the mistress of the house and so had to do nothing but be waited upon. But since she was the mistress of the house, there was nothing the kind cook could do other than to pander to her wishes.

They’d struck on a compromise. ‘Fine,’ Adamma had told the woman.

‘We’ll do the cooking together, but I will be the person to prepare my husband’s meals.’ And they had stuck to that routine and a firm friendship had developed 109

between the two women. She helped out in the house chores in the early hours of the mornings before she dived into her gym for her fitness routines; she treated everybody like an equal, her fame and fortune notwithstanding, and the servants loved her for it. But now, she had become weary of it all; she was tired of being trapped in this opulent prison and being ignored by the only man who should have made her a happy woman.

It was like being trapped in a golden cage. Beautiful and stunning, yes, but she was still a prisoner in it because there seemed to be no escape from it.

She walked into the living room, her eyes wearily taking in the ridiculously expensive furniture and oil paintings whose price would feed a hundred hungry children comfortably for three years. Her mother-in-law, Hope, was reclining on a sofa, perusing through a voluminous John Irving work. She seemed unaware of the presence of the younger woman, so Adamma leaned against the doorframe and watched her, a pang of longing whispering through her.

Hope was more than a mother-in-law to her, and through the several months they had been together in the same house, they had become firm friends, and she had gotten to rely on the woman as a trusted companion and confidant, a mother she’d never really had. They had gone for numerous shopping trips together and had giggled like young teenagers as they made their selections; Hope had been there to take very good care of her grandchildren when Adamma had gone on a three-week continent-wide tour, thrilling thousands of fans who were there to watch her perform her act, and when she had returned to Lagos, performing at the Lagos stadium to an audience twenty thousand strong, Hope had been there with the kids, cheering her on as she’d performed a belle dancing gig with two talented teenagers who had gone on the tour with her, the three of them dressed in long skirts and shimmering bras; the Lagos township stadium had been the last lap of her tour. Afterwards, all of them had gone for a nice picnic at the Lekki beach where Hope insisted she wear a revealing bikini, and

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she’d been the sensation of the beach in the bikini; Hope took a motherly pride in her daughter-in-law.

Later that evening, as they were having dinner, Hope had said to Obi, ‘You’ve landed quite a catch. Your wife was marvelous; please don’t let her slip through your fingers.’

And he had merely grunted a response, and that night he had made love to her with a wild passion that made it so obvious that he was hungry for her. He’d fucked her all night long, and, the following day, he’d taken her out and had plied her with gifts. But she was not deceived; his gifts to her were the gifts of a master to his slave_ and in this case, his sex slave.

As if she’d sensed her presence, Hope looked up from her book, and a frosty look came into her eyes. She gave Adamma a cold, assessing glance.

‘Hello, my dear,’ she said in a surprisingly cold voice which nearly made Adamma to reel back as if she’d been hit physically. ‘I was waiting up for you and my son to return, and now, you’re here. I want us to talk.’

Adamma nodded, but she felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that whatever Hope wanted to talk about would be unfavorable to her. She braced herself and then sank tiredly into a chair. ‘I’m listening, Hope.’

‘Let me start with a question: who was that man that was hugging you and looking as if he wanted to eat you outside?’ But before her daughter-in-law could reply, she raised one slim hand and stopped her. ‘Let me answer that. I know he’s been your manager for a decade, but who is he, really? What’s he to you? Is he just what everyone think he is? Is he your lover?’

Adamma was flabbergasted. ‘What is this?’ she asked, annoyance taking over her mind. ‘Are trying you trying to accuse me? Are you trying to start a quarrel?’

‘Wait; I have not finished.’ Hope’s voice sounded like a whiplash. ‘You weren’t supposed to have come returned home by this time, and I have no doubt that my son is the reason why you fled from that party. News travels extremely 111

fast in the circles I move around in; a friend had already called me and told me what had happened between you and Obi. He was smiling at another woman right before your eyes, yes?’

Adamma’s chest heaved with apprehension at what was going to happen, and she had no doubt that Hope’s ‘friend’ was Lady Smith. She said calmly, ‘So you know what your son is doing to me. You know everything, Hope.’

‘Yes,’ the older woman blurted out, her head tilting up so she could get a better view of Adamma. Her face was a mask of annoyance and disapproval.

‘Well, what do you think of it?’ Adamma demanded.

Hope crossed one leg over the other and regarded her daughter-in-law coldly. ‘You deserve it, you little bitch. As much as I find it distressing that my son is not faithful to his significant other, I’ll say that you deserve it. You put on your mask of innocence, but you’re a devil underneath all that shocking beauty of yours. You are just like a powerful seductress, and you ensnared my son at a whorehouse which had the cloak of being a club where you worked as a whore over a decade ago!’

Adamma gasped and then reeled backwards into her chair as if the other woman had struck her physically. The impact of the older woman’s icy words was overwhelming, and the pain she felt was excruciating. No, this cannot be happening to me, she thought in anguish, tears blurring her vision. No. Please no.

Hope’s eyes shone with cold triumph. ‘You thought I would never find out?’ she fired on, her voice hard, her expression deadpan. ‘I hate you, Adamma.

You’ve done quite a lot, and I hate you for it. Nothing happens that I do not find out, and so if I hadn’t decided to have your past investigated, then I would still be here, feeling sorry for a wretched whore who preys on the fantasies of men.

How could you not have told me? How could you have hidden that fact from me even though you knew I would have understood?’

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Adamma was now crying in anguish. She put her head in her arms and wept because she was afraid she’d lost a friend, and she pulled herself together and looked up. ‘I can explain,’ she said quietly, though she sounded heartbroken. ‘I had no choice then; it was forced on me. I had never wanted to do anything so depraved, but I’d had no choice. You have to believe me!’

The anger, contempt, and hatred in Hope’s eyes were unmistakable. ‘It was forced on you by whom? You sit there, bedeviled by jealousy and burning with spite against my son for his infidelity, but you were and still are, a whore, a hooker! And even now, right before you came in here, you were hugging and fondling a man right in front of my house, the both of you looking ready to jump into bed and do something to each other. You are worse than a despicable animal; you are a beast and a filthy scumbag.’

Horror coursed through Adamma at Hope’s fiery condemnation of her.

‘Hope!’ she cried in a choked voice. ‘You must listen to me! I had no choice! It was either I got my ass into the streets or die, so I had to choose between the two evils. I could not just drop dead for the sake of morality.’

‘But you could have at least had some dignity about the matter,’ Hope pouted, a smile appearing on her lips. ‘You, know, you’re such a talented actress; your acting skills are flawless. Now, please stop playing the innocent, wounded wife and leave Obi to enjoy his life. He is a man; he’s got normal sex urges, so he’s free to go and seek his pleasures anywhere.’

For a moment, shock held Adamma still, and then she slid to the floor in a near state of collapse. ‘How can you say such a thing?’ she cried in disbelief.

‘You’re his mother; you’re supposed to be angry with him for his actions.’

A thin smile appeared on the woman’s lips and then disappeared. ‘Of course I am his mother and should be suitably horrified at his behavior. But in this case, I won’t be; I am solidly behind him to do whatever he wants. And you’re not even smart_ can’t you even ask me why I now hate you?’

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Through her tears, Adamma remembered it was true, and so she asked, ‘Why?’ Hope waved as if was inconsequential. ‘There are many reasons. First: you were a whore, and yet you never trusted me enough to try and confide in me even though you knew I would understand. Secondly: you’re as unfaithful as you accuse my son of being_ perhaps even more so_ yet you shower accusations and abuses on him, painting him as the villain in your marriage.

And thirdly: you flirt with a lot of men_ your beauty, fame, and your chosen career has made it impossible for the men not to notice you_ but yet you’re filled with jealousy whenever Obi looks at another woman. And the forth and classical reason . . .’

Here she broke off, and she fixed Adamma with a look of such intense anger and clear, unadulterated hatred that made the younger woman to feel utterly wretched and cast, bereft of her clothing, into an icy wilderness. Through her misery and the impending doom that hung over her like the storm clouds, her mind dwelt on possible reasons why this woman would show off display such a frightening display of contempt and hatred for her. And then, her mind wondered why the woman had decided to go and unearth the sordid details of her past life.

Hope’s icy voice jerked her back to the present with the force of a physical slap to her face. ‘There was this woman who destroyed my happiness several years ago, even before I met and married Obi’s father. She was more beautiful than I was; she was more gifted and talented_ of course the children of Lucifer are often very stunning to behold, and she was younger than me. But she was a snake; a man had wanted to marry me, but she thrust herself in-between us and destroyed our union. She got him to herself, but I knew she’d never make him happy in any way; there was something bad about her, a bad aura that spelt doom. She got pregnant and then she gave birth to a baby; you. That man and that woman were your parents.’

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All color drained away from Adamma’s face as she clutched at her chest because of the utter shock Hope’s declaration had caused. Breathing was now a task she performed with difficulty as she stared at Hope with rounded eyes of disbelief. Could the woman’s words be mere lies or could they have the ring of truth? She believed the former because she couldn’t believe her mother to be capable of doing such a despicable thing.

‘You are a liar, Hope!’ she spat out, though her throat felt as if it was clogged up with bones. Her tears were now gone for good as she got ready to defend the honor of the woman who had given birth to her. The suffering look of the abused wife was gone, to be replaced by anger.

‘Oh, believe what you wish to believe,’ Hope said pleasantly. ‘However, it’s the simple truth, and if you’re interested, then I can show you a photo of them I’ve kept over the years.’

And she extracted a photo from within the pages of the book she’d been reading and leaned forward to give it to Adamma. As the latter studied the faces that were frozen permanently on that page, her face fell. It was of a young couple; and the man looked solid and strong, a man in the prime of his life, and the young woman standing beside him, her face wreathed in smiles, was stunningly beautiful, with a shock of black hair that was upswept and away from her face. They were unmistakably her dead parents, and tears slid down her cheeks anew as she stared at them.

‘I couldn’t believe it at first,’ Hope continued flatly. ‘There was something about you that drew my mind irresistibly to my past enemies; there was something about that woman that lay in your eyes; her face was like yours, and the body_ there was the same grace of movement, the same sensuality that would make a mountain goat lose its foothold. So, I decided to investigate and lay my mind to rest, and then I found out everything about you. You were a whore; a famous singer; the daughter of the worst enemy I’ve ever had; the mother of my grandchildren; my friend . . . what a formidable combination. And 115

I would like for you to understand that I know more about your family history than you do, more than you’ll ever know about who you are.’

‘Hope . . .’ and words failed Adamma with which to express the chaotic emotions that were whirling around in her. The heartbreak she felt was more excruciating than any pain she’d ever felt before in her entire life. Here it was right in front of her eyes; Hope had given her the proof of whom and what she was. It was all laid down before her eyes.

‘Now, my dear,’ Hope said in arch tones, smiling; but there was no truth and humor in that smile. ‘Ruining you would be the perfect revenge I can exert on you for what your parents did to me many years ago. They broke my heart mercilessly, and to be sincere, the natural impulse is for me to exert my revenge; to pay them back. Unfortunately, that’s no longer possible; meeting you, knowing you, and even loving you right back from all those bygone years when you’d appeared on the screens, has lessened, and even deadened my desire for revenge. But I can’t stay with you anymore under the same roof, not after knowing what I now know about you. So, go to the master bedroom you share with my son, pack your bags, and then get out of here. Feel free to take your children with you_ I have the feeling that you’ll need them now more than ever.’

Shocked, Adamma shook her head. ‘But this is also my house; this is my home,’ she protested. ‘This is my husband’s house.’

‘And your husband does not care for you or want you anymore,’ Hope amended stubbornly. ‘And this is my house, not Obi’s. Please do not try to fight me or argue about this; you’ll regret it. I’d like to have a bowl of cereal right now, and I’d invite you to join me, but of course you’ll want to pack your bags.

So, I’ll say goodbye to you, and good luck; you need it now_ we all do.’ She stood and turned towards the direction of the kitchen.

Without another word, Adamma turned and also left the utter monstrosity of a living room behind her, heading for the bedroom she’d shared with Obi so 116

she could pack her bags and leave the house behind. She threw the door open, stood irresolutely in the middle of the room as she considered whether to call Obi and tell him what his mother had done; she decided against it. Moving into the room, she began to throw open her trunks and the wardrobe; shoes were thrown to the floor in a haste; haute couture were thrown unceremoniously onto the floor. She then began to pack, and as she did so, she wept in despair, and from her mouth came the sounds of unspeakable despair and agony; she was on the fringe of breaking down finally.

At last, she’d become trapped, and there no visible route of escape. She found it utterly unbelievable that Hope would venture to go and investigate her past, seeking for ways to pull her down, and the fact that the woman had coerced her into agreeing to leave her matrimonial home was incomprehensible to her mind. And the woman had even used her past life against her, wielding it like a weapon.

And where did the woman expect her to go to?

She’d go to her house, the house she’d bought with her own finances and turned into a lovely home for herself and her kids. Fortunately, even after she’d moved into her matrimonial home after her wedding, she’d hired a housekeeper who cleaned the house twice a week. And the house had been a safe haven to her; it was a place she escaped to whenever she needed to think or work on new lyrics for her albums or tried to escape from the headaches she was suffering at the hands of Obi_ sometimes she even spent days in that house, locked indoors.

And now, she was returning back to the same house she’d left over a year ago.

But the shame and scandal her removal from her matrimonial home would cause would serve as fodder for malignant gossip which could last for several months. Ah, at last, Obi had succeeded; if his intention had been to punish her silence about their kids even though she’d known how to contact him, then he’d succeeded; her ruin would serve his purpose perfectly because her dignity and sanity had fled from her. There would be headlines everywhere!

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Sinking down to the floor as her emotions finally got the better of her; she gave in to a fresh flood of tears which racked her body with its intensity. Why had she agreed to Obi’s marriage proposal, which had finally crumbled apart after just more than a year of their making their vows to each other? She had seen through him; she’d seen him for the monster he truly was, and yet she’d agreed to marry him so that her children would have a home and bask in the love of their father. And she’d tried to make the marriage work; it had been a sham from the very beginning, but she’d tried. She had worshipped his body whenever, however, and wherever he’d needed her; she’d cooked his meals and washed his clothes and ironed them herself with meticulous care even though there had been a plethora of servants to do so; she had really tried to make the marriage work out for them. And what had she gained in return for her sacrifices; her efforts? What ultimate price was she paying for his treatment of her?

He’d ruined her beyond redemption. He had scrubbed her public image in the dust and made her a laughingstock of her critics.

She stood up, shook her head to clear it, and then she continued to pack.

Twenty minutes later, after she’d walked up and down the staircase to her car which she’d parked in front of the driveway, lugging heavy trunks to the car but not breaking a sweat because she was quite strong due to her physical torture of her body every morning, she threw in the last of her trunks into the car and headed for the kids’ room to wake them up. It grieved her to think that they would be so disappointed at the prospect of being separated from their father at such a time in their lives. But she couldn’t just leave them here, could she? And so they were coming with her.

Walking into the room, Adamma crossed over to the bed where Helen lay, sleeping peacefully with the innocence of a child. She gently shook the girl free from the bonds of sleep and smiled when Helen’s eyelids fluttered open and the girl stared up at her mother.

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Adamma’s heart twisted with agony at the thought of what she was about to do to her beloved kids. ‘Get up, honey,’ she said gently in a strangled voice, her fingers reaching forward to stroke the girl’s hair. ‘We’re leaving.’

‘Leaving?’ Helen echoed and her eyes wide with disbelief. She frowned, and her mother knew that the intelligent girl was trying to work out the facts in her mind. ‘But where are we going? Why now?’

Adamma drew in a ragged breath and tried to smile, but she was sure it came out as a grimace. ‘Your dad doesn’t love me and your grandmother has asked me to pack my things and leave; you know I cannot leave here without you and your brother. So let’s wake him up so we can leave, ok?’

All sleep seemed to ooze out of Helen’s face and the girl sat up, now very alert. She looked thoughtful; she was trying to figure out why her father would act so monstrously; she was that intelligent. ‘Mummy, are you sure of what you’re saying?’ she demanded. ‘But daddy won’t be so cruel to the extent of sending you_ us_ packing right now. It is so unfair to all of us. But, I’m not quite surprised that you’ve told me what you just told me; I always knew there was something bad about him because you’ve never been happy around him. He treats you so unfairly; I often noticed it.’

The girl threw back the bedcovers and flew to her feet just as her mother turned around towards the wardrobe. As Adamma began to throw the clothes inside it out on the recently discarded bed, Helen hastened towards the other side of the room to her brother’s bed where he lay under the bedcovers, sleeping peacefully. As Helen impatiently shook her brother awake, Adamma had to ponder what feelings were bottled up inside that young body: perhaps rage, resentment, anger . . . Adamma didn’t blame her; the girl had the right to feel that way.

Ian woke up, and as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, he grumbled, ‘Helen, why don’t you just leave me alone? I want to sleep.’

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She waved him to silence with a queenly authority she’d perfected over the years. ‘We’re leaving,’ she retorted. ‘Dad doesn’t love us, and so we’re leaving here right away. We thought he was the best thing that could have happened to us, but now, he’s sending us away from here.’

‘But he can’t do that,’ Ian protested, turning wide eyes of disbelief on his mother so she could counter the statement. ‘He promised to take me out for shopping tomorrow and come and see my play after school.’

Helen laughed. ‘And he also promised to take me to my dancing practice so he’d cheer me on to victory. But then pigs wear wigs, and he’s always making promises to us. So please snap out of your confusion and move your ass out of that bed before I take a switch to your hide!’

Ian frowned at her angrily. ‘You can’t do that!’ he exclaimed. ‘And I love my daddy! This is all a mistake, and he’ll make everything right again; you’ll see.’

Helen laughed at him in scorn. ‘So you love the man who is responsible for making our mother so sad? Can’t you see that she’s been crying? Oh, how stupid and utterly silly you are! You are so blind! Now, will you get out of that bed or do you want me to force you out of it?’

Adamma whirled round like a dervish and thundered at the sparring twins to shut up and obey her instructions, and they immediately obeyed her, their verbal exchange subsiding

into glares that promised that the topic would be

revisited by them once again. And then Adamma mellowed instantly at them_ it wasn’t their fault that the world had gone upside down.

She felt cold fury well up within her at Obi, the man who had made her life miserable. It ignited her temper that he was the person who would come between her kids and make them fight about him; Helen condemned him with a fury that belied her age, while Ian tenaciously clung to the belief that his father could do no wrong to them and would never dismiss them from his life.

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But he has dismissed them from his life, Adamma thought bitterly and disconsolately to herself, a wave of feral anger and jealousy coursing through her. Her fists clenching of their own accord, she straightened up as her mind dwelt on the unsavory images of Obi reclining back in a sofa somewhere while a gorgeous woman attended to his body and they laughed at her and taunted her memory; that woman was Della. Could the sadistic man be as cruel as that?

Didn’t he realize what a beautiful, intelligent woman he’d married? Was he blinded by his lust for the fairer sex and his rage against her that he couldn’t sit down and think about what he had_ what other men would go to the ends of the earth to have?

She hated him; hated his guts and his daring for doing what he was doing to her!

As that thought dropped, unbidden, into her mind, she realized, with a sickening jolt, that she did not hate him in any way. She loved him; she had always loved him in spite of the fact that he was cruel to her and had sadistic tendencies which made him to punish her with such dedication, that she often thought if her life with him had any meaning at all.

She was in love with her husband, and this sudden realization of her true feelings for Obi nearly rocked her off her feet and she had to clutch at the table for support. It hit her with the crushing force of a sledge hammer. That explained why she’d always hung on to their marriage; that was why she let him take her whenever and wherever he wanted to take her. And that was what explained the feelings of jealousy she always felt; the anger that was lodged firmly in her chest; the bitterness; the pain and feelings of desolation . . . it was because he had not returned her love for him or appreciated her sacrifices . . . because he was indifferent to her and seemed oblivious to her charms as a woman except when they were out in the glare and censorious eyes of the public . . .

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But now, even with that knowledge she now had of her for a man who treated her worse than he’d treat a criminal, she knew that she could not stay on here and expect Obi to treat her with any modicum of respect. Staying on here would be tantamount to subjecting herself to a new unbreakable bondage, and it was not something she expected to bear with meekness; it’d drive her crazy. She wouldn’t want the man she loved to hold such sway over her and toy with her, subjecting her to the cruelty of his actions. How he would hurt her if he ever found out that she was in love with him.

No . . . never again. Hope’s dismissal and condemnation was the last straw; she had to go, and there was nothing to keep her here again. Her mind was definitely made up.

She turned to her children, and she appeared strangely calm. She said, ‘We have to go, my darlings. But do not worry; you have not seen the last of your father, and neither have I.’ The real battle was about to begin. She knew it; she was sure of it.

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CHAPTER NINE

Obi was reluctant to leave the relative sanctuary of the room he occupied in the luscious hotel he had. He had just gone over that night when he had left his wife and gone off with Della. But then, it was so much for the fact that he was trying to make her jealous; the woman he had taken to the other corner of the room was just nothing but a cloying whore who wanted to have him, conveniently forgetting that he was supposed to be very married. It had been a mistake, for Della had thought that he had designs on her just like she had on him and she had been royally pissed off when he had refused to have anything to do with her. Like he would even think of touching her when he had Adamma_ she was a big dreamer.

He was now ready to return home. He wanted to leave the hotel suite he’d been occupying in his luxury hotel and return home to his mother and his children, and to his wife. He tried to envisage the frosty reception he’d receive from her, but he just couldn’t.

He sighed wearily. He did not want to engage in any verbal fencing with her because she seemed to be becoming an expert at it, and he knew she would undoubtedly be in a foul mood, though she’d try as much as possible cloak it in front of the kids and then unleash the full brunt of her fury on him in their bedroom. She had many facets to her personality, and he knew now that underneath her cloak of smiles and flighty words which she used to cover up the turmoil within, there lay a strong will and a steely determination that could bring out the devil in her. He didn’t want that.

Della and Adamma . . . The two women were polar opposites and the gap between them was too wide: Adamma was an extremely strong-willed woman who wasted no time dallying aimlessly when she knew what she wanted and what ought to be done, and she did it without the least hesitation; that was how 123

she’d single-handedly revolutionized his new chain of supermarkets into becoming mega sellers that sucked in rich clientele. But on the other hand, Della was fickle, and there was practically no thoughts in her head beyond the horizon of spending hours and money pampering her lovely self, investing heavily in couture, some of which would never see the light of day; she spent her time in salons and beauty parlors, her primary concern being the beautification of her natural assets. But Adamma practically had no time to do such because she worked so hard and so late into the nights . . .

He headed out to his car and drove off, heading back home. He’d been living a pipedream, casting his marital responsibilities and his children aside simply because he was steeped in work. It was too ridiculous to contemplate.

He knew that he was a good father to his kids, a terrific lover in the bedroom, but on the marriage chart, he knew that he’d failed; he was a dismal failure. He had never wanted to relegate himself to the role of the dutiful husband who lived a dull life, knowing that it was blatantly against his principles. But that had been before he’d met Adamma the second time, and his world had been turned upside down.

When he drove into the opulent grounds of his mansion an hour later, he found the gardeners working on the flowerbeds, but their greeting was too cool and cold, quite unlike their usual friendliness. And then, the sight that greeted him when he parked under the huge canopy that accommodated the cars that were meant for everyday use was empty spaces where his wife’s two cars were supposed to be. The minivan he’d bought her, but which she rarely drove except when she was accompanying Hope on errands, was there.

He said nothing of this, but when he entered the house a minute later, he felt an absence, not of persons who’d gone out and would return, but the deep silence of persons who were no longer there. He sauntered into his marital room, and then he stopped short; the feeling of emptiness was too profound here, and

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then he realized why. Every item that belonged to Adamma was missing from the room.

He nearly reeled back in shock, but he stood his ground and then hurried forward. He began throwing open the trunks; the cabinets; the wardrobes; the chest and the drawers. But the story remained the same; his wife was gone.

He felt a feeling of pure rage and other less identifiable emotions surge through him as the thought flew into his mind that his wife had vanished.

Whirling round like a crazed devil, he stomped his way to Hope’s room, seeking answers.

Hope was seated on a chaise longue in her room, eating buttered bread, her eyes glued to the laptop screen that was on her laps. She looked up as he entered the room, and the look of concentration she’d adopted fled, to be replaced by a wary stare at his face as her eyes swiveled in his direction.

‘Hello, mother,’ he said coldly, stopping before the chair and fixing Hope with a glare that would have frozen a lake. ‘Wrong time of the day to be eating killer junk with lots of fat in it, isn’t it?’

Hope bit into her bread, and then she snapped, ‘Why are you here?’

Obi folded his muscular arms across his chest and regarded her with angry eyes, his tall frame dominating her slim body that sat so gracefully, and yet, so rigidly upon the chair. They locked their eyes together in a wordless battle, and then he shifted his gaze; it was a tiny victory for Hope, and she smiled mirthlessly.

‘Where is Adamma?’ Obi asked.

Indignation flared hotly in Hope’s eyes. ‘If you’re talking about that whore, then I’ll be glad to tell you that she’s left here. The girl has become fed up with you, and so she packed up and flew out of here as if the devil was hot on her trail. She’s moved out of here, son, and she’s not coming back to this house.’

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Obi’s eyes bulged with incredulity. ‘What? She’s left here? But you could have restrained her, or at least tried to contact me to tell me what she was trying to do!’

‘Contacted you?’ Hope released a laugh of annoyance, and then she fixed her sob with a cold stare, ‘I couldn’t contact you because there was no way I wanted to interfere in your fight with your wife. But I have to admit it to you that I’m glad to see that whore get out of this house.’

‘She’s not a whore!’ Obi bellowed.

‘Oh, isn’t she? I am glad to tell you that I know how you met her at a nightclub where she worked as a singer and a dancer and a whore. And then, you fell for charms like a pack of cards. To be sincere to you, I’ll tell you that I wouldn’t be surprised if those kids she’s been parading around as yours don’t really belong to you. That bitch is disgusting!’

Obi reeled back at the cold words that were being spewed out of his mother’s mouth with such venom and anger. He had never fathomed that his mother could be capable of displaying such antipathy towards Adamma whom he knew the woman was very fond of. That her habitual warmth could be replaced by such cold anger and fury was inconceivable, and the fact that she’d stood by meekly and watched Adamma leave the house without doing anything about it, was downright maddening.

‘Mother, where are my children?’ he demanded, fixing her with basilisk glare that would have wilted lesser mortals, but which did nothing to shake Hope’s pose on her chair. She matched his look with a hard, uncompromising stare, and then she shoved the remaining piece of bread into her mouth before she deigned to reply.

‘The whore took them with her when she was leaving, and for all I care, I could have scores of grandsons and granddaughters who will surface to claim you as their father. Your promiscuous life being the judge, I wouldn’t be surprised in any way. Now, let me implore you to get your sorry ass out of my 126

room and please do me a favor and don’t return here until I deem it fit to have you ushered into my presence.’

And then Hope lowered her eyelids towards the glowing screen of the laptop and looked at her scarlet fingernails. The thought flashed through Obi’s mind that she’d dismissed him from her mind, and so, his mind reeling from the blows of her revelations, his thoughts a jumbled mess, he turned and walked out of the room. All his elation that he’d been able to hit back at his wife left him, and he felt as if she’d cast out into an arctic wilderness in which there was no protection for him.

He felt certain that the rebellious singer could not have accomplished such a fit all by herself; he’d realized a long time ago that she was never one to back down from a fight, and she’d have stuck it out to the very end. So, why had she left? Had his mother, through some means he could not fathom, been able to browbeat her into fleeing from their matrimonial home with their kids? Or had she left of her own accord? Had she suddenly decided that she was fed up with him and couldn’t remain with him any longer?

If that had been her intention, then she’d succeeded in giving him a sucker punch below the belt, where it hurt like hell. His mind could not, and would not bear the disconcerting thought of his wife making a public spectacle of him by running. Jesus! Running away! That would set the town agog for months!

His mind narrowing in concentration as a cold fury seized him, he resolved at that very instant to go and bring his wife back to this house even if he had to drag her by her hair as she screamed and shouted obscenities at him. He had to bring her back to this house even if it was the last thing he ever did in his whole life ever again! She must be made to come back to him, even if he had to blackmail her back into his arms. He would never, ever let her go; she was his_ she belonged to him, and anything that belonged to him was meant to stay with him.

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A smile creased his lips. He knew that blackmail was the only option he had, and it was something Adamma responded to with great trepidation; that was how it had been when he’d forced his wedding band into her finger. But first, he knew that he had to go and see her; he’d try to talk some sense into her: he’d try to reason with her to return home, to return to his arms. He would give her a reason to stay with him; he’d call a truce so they’d stop fighting and try to settle their differences. He had to try to make her come back to him of her own volition, but if she chose to remain stubborn, he’d force her back to his house, keep her under lock and key, and make love to her till she became pregnant again. And then she’d have no option but to stay with him.

Knowing that she’d be at her house which she’d bluntly refused to sell and pocket a hefty check, he went up to his room and lay down on the bed to think.

He waited for a week, and when he heard nothing from or about his wife, he knew that the time had come for him to go to her. He’d given her a reasonable interval to return home but she hadn’t, so he would have to go and get her.

He drew out his Blackberry phone, and then dialed her main number; she had three mobile phone numbers_ one was strictly for her business dealings with her marketers, and her lawyer; it was her ‘music line,’ and the other was for the hundreds of acquaintances she had who were always plying her with dinner and party invitations_ she rarely answered the calls that came to it every minute of the day but instead, she relegated that task to a secretary, and the last line was for her family and her close friends. He called her, and to his surprise, the call was diverted to anther number; it was then answered by Ian. ‘Hello, kiddo,’ Obi said, forcing some sense of fun into his voice, although he was very disappointed that Adamma had been up to her tricks again. He asked the boy, ‘How are you?’

‘Hey dad, we’re fine.’ Ian replied in a quivering voice that tore at his heart.

‘Dad, I’m not supposed to be talking to you unless mom was around, and she might get mad at me. I hope you’re not angry with me, dad?’

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Obi laughed to reassure the boy that all was well and as it should be between them. ‘Of course not. Hey, kiddo, is your mother around you right now?

We had an argument and so I’d like to speak to her so we can settle our differences.’ And then he heard movement at the other end of the line, and he knew that his son was no longer alone. Suddenly, the sound went on mute, and he waited; someone was in that room with Ian, and he had to wait for whoever it was to reveal herself. It turned out to be Helen, the quieter and more intelligent of the twins.

The line went back on. ‘Dad, I was listening to everything you were saying,’ she said, her voice sounding surprisingly strong for an eleven-year old girl. ‘I know how you made us leave, and if you think I’m going to let you keep on hurting mummy, you’re mistaken. She’s really mad at you, and I think you’re aware of that fact. And she’s gone out; she’s not here with us.’

‘Well, where is she?’

Helen sighed, and he could hear the sound of her tongue clucking at him scornfully in annoyance. ‘Where do you expect her to be?’ she asked, and the edge of weariness in her voice sounded obvious. It was as if she was tired of him. ‘She’s gone out, of course, to go and shoot a music video at the Lagos beach, and then afterwards, she’ll be meeting with some people at the Hilton club or something. I’m not so hot with names.’

Obi was thoroughly relieved, but before he could thank her, she said something about going out for some snacks and then she hung up on him. He put the phone down, settled into a chair, and, with a smile, he reviewed the options he had.

He told himself that to try and talk to his wife, to reason with and make her understand that her place was by his side, that they fit in together perfectly, was an exercise in futility. However, to use forceful means to convince her and make her realize the folly of her actions, would definitely yield positive results.

She was a stubborn woman who had to be forced to see the light of truth; 129

otherwise, she would remain adamant and unrepentant about fleeing away from him as if he was some kind of monster. The rebellious singer would definitely be furious with him if he went to her and forced his will upon her; she’d swim in a cauldron of rage and fury against him, but he intended to break through whatever barrier she’d erected around herself so he could get what he wanted from her.

Damn, what is this? Attraction; he was fascinated by her. And then he asked himself if there was any underlying motive why he wanted to bring his wife back to his house apart from the fact that they were wedded under the laws of man and God and he desperately wanted to get his kids back? The power and heady sense of delight that followed the fact that he was married to the most beautiful woman on the big screens of African television was simply exhilarating to him. But, was there something else? And he knew that there was; the vision of Adamma on the screen in one of her music videos_ Falsehood_ her long, sensual body framed by the ocean behind her as she sang out the slow lyrics to the song, her body flashing in her skimpy gown that blew around her by the ocean breeze, was a mesmerizing vision to him. There was something about her constantly moving body, and also the notion and yearning he had that one day she would come to love him more than she’d ever loved another man, all fascinated him too much than was rational.

What was it his father had said? ‘It is nice to be loved by a woman, but to be loved by a very beautiful woman who is very gifted, carries with it a feeling of power and strength that surpasses anything that can be felt by the senses. It is a heady feeling.’

He smiled to himself. He would definitely get his wife back from the unseen hands that had grabbed her away from him. She belonged to him; she was his, and she had no right to run away from him.

He would do anything to have her back, and she was in a pot of trouble if she thought she would remain unreasonable and adamant for long.

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CHAPTER TEN

The esteemed Hilton club was a club that had exclusive membership, and so, catered exclusively to the needs of the rich and mighty. It was nestled within the very heart of the VGC Estate, and so the less affluent residents of the Lagos Mainland knew better than to dare step onto the posh hallowed grounds of the club.

It had a glittering swimming pool that the members could enjoy, and parasols with tables and chairs under them; there were four tennis courts where even the governor himself played tennis on weekends; there were flowerbeds that were tended to by Asian gardeners_ they were a blaze of colors; the car park was superb, and expensive cars lined it. The club itself, soaring three stories high, was a modern architectural masterpiece that was equipped with well-stocked bars, a restaurant, and a relaxation lounge that was off-limits to non-members of the club. It had glass doors and French windows all around it, giving it a panoramic view in all directions.

When Obi drove into the grounds of the club, he looked round as he climbed out of his car, his eyes spotting his wife’s white Mercedes parked between a low-slung Bentley and a glittering black Porsche. Nodding with satisfaction to himself, he turned and walked briskly towards the doors of the club, and then he stepped into the lobby, walking past some distinguishedlooking couples. He walked into the restaurant, and then he saw her.

There she was, seated at a corner table, sipping a cup of tea, her eyes glued to the manuscript she was clutching in her left hand. He had to pause and admire her for a moment, and he had to admit to himself that she was really beautiful. She wore a sky-blue gown that was fashionably tailored without looking provocative; her dark hair had been left free to flow down her shoulders, strands of hair brushing against her breasts; her makeup was very mild, and 132

circled around her throat like a blue ribbon, was a necklace that matched the color of her dress perfectly. Her face had a morning freshness quality that totally captivated him. Even now, after several months of marriage to her, he still hadn’t really gotten used to her exceptional beauty, and he had to lower his face to avoid looking at her as he approached her table.

She looked up, and her luminous eyes became fixed on him with a blank, nevertheless cold expression. ‘Why, I am not surprised to see you here,’ she said, and she leaned back in her chair to look him squarely in his face. She sighed and then waved him into the chair opposite her almost as if she was resigned to having to suffer the displeasure of his company. ‘And please let’s be quick about this. What do you want from me?’

Obi’s lips curved into a contemptuous smile as the beautiful woman crossed one leg over the other, revealing one long shapely leg to his view. ‘Your gown is straight up, my dear,’ he told her. ‘Don’t tell me you’re feeling so horny here that you now want to perform a striptease. It won’t be appreciated by the conservative patrons.’

Adamma flushed with embarrassment and quickly uncrossed her legs and discreetly shifting them away from his prying eyes. The bloody fool! Did he always have to be so confrontational, seeking to incite her annoyance and fury every time they were within a mile radius of each other? She wondered how they’d been able to sleep together in the same room and the same bed for over a year without killing each other, though she wryly admitted to herself that they did not always sleep in the same bed_ whenever he incited her to anger, she’d simply lock the door to their room and make him sleep on the couch in the private living room of their suite or to go to the other numerous rooms in the house and make himself comfortable. As she saw the gleam of mischief in his eyes, she knew he’d come prepared to unload whatever torture he had in his arsenal on her. And she was ready for him; she’d steeled herself for their

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encounter because she knew he would definitely seek her out. How right she was about that.

‘What do you want from me?’ she asked, looking at him blankly and smiling in amusement when he looked down once again. She was no fool; she knew the electric effect her eyes had on him, so she was ready to use it to her advantage.

Before replying, Obi took up her cup of tea, took a sip from the bitter black tea she was drinking, and he grimaced with distaste; darn, he’d forgotten that she was addicted to unflavored black tea which he had a strong aversion for. He said, ‘What do I want? It’s very simple, actually. You are my wife, and your position in the eyes of the society and the eyes of God is by my side. I want you to come back home.’

Adamma’s eyes widened in wonder at the sheer boldness of this man who’d had no regard for her whatsoever. ‘You are a bloody fool, my dear,’ she said, smiling pleasantly at the handsome waiter who’d materialized at her side to fill her glass with chilled white wine. When he left, she continued. ‘After all you’ve made me go through, you still expect me to come back to you?

Sometimes I really wonder if you’re sane. Certainly, I’m sure you’re aware I’m a free woman, with the freedom and liberty to do what I want and make my own choices. My marriage to you was a sham right from the beginning and I am glad I got myself extricated from it. Marriage is purgatory, but my marriage to you was hell on earth.’

‘Are you trying to imply that you hate men?’

‘On the contrary, I implied no such thing, you fool, but I am glad you voiced your thoughts about the subject. And for the record, men are worthless, evil; diabolical. Many women have had their hearts broken by men, and one of such women is my friend Amanda. And no; if there’s one thing I’ll never do again, it’s to admit or acknowledge the fact that I’m your wife. I am free from you, darling, and very soon, I’m going to file a divorce suite on you on the 134

grounds of unreasonable conduct which I cannot be expected to live with; emotional cruelty, lack of care and empathy, infidelity. . .’ and she was reeling them off on her fingers, smiling at him as she did so.

Summoning his courage, he gazed deeply into the eyes of the audacious woman he’d married; this was the woman who’d occupied his fantasies for so many years and had taunted him and derided him for so long. It was as if she was deliberately putting him through the flames of her private hell. Perhaps that was why he was so bitter about her, but her beauty had trapped him firmly, and he desired her more than he’d ever desired another woman in his whole life.

What was it all about? What did it mean? And as he looked at her face, seeing the leashed anger and coldness in those eyes that had bound him to her from the very first time he’d seen her, he knew with an unshakable conviction that she’d toughened herself up; she’d adequately prepared herself to repel him and freeze him out. It was painted all over her face.

He intended to browbeat her to come back home into his house and into his arms, and if she dared to labor under the misapprehension that she was free from his clutches, then he would have to force her to return to him. If he didn’t have her, then there was no other person in this world that could be allowed to have her.

‘My dear girl, you’re coming home,’ he told her, his voice flat, his expression, emotionless. ‘If not today, then it would be tomorrow, but the fact remains that you are coming home.’

Smiling saucily for the first time, Adamma asked, ‘And who is going to force me to return back to that horrible mansion? You would force me to return?

Or would you leave the job for your mother?’

‘No.’ ‘Come on, dear, you can do better than that.’ She rolled her eyes in weariness, as if he bored the pants off her. ‘Why are you here for me? Why did

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you decide to leave that woman’s bed and come here to ask me to return with you to your house?’

‘I need you. The house seems to be different without you in it, and believe me when I tell you that I miss your company_ though you often try to be disagreeable at every turn. You were meant to be there.’ He remembered her earlier accusation and frowned at her. ‘And let me put this straight to you: I never slept with Della.’

Choosing to ignore his declaration of innocence, she demanded, ‘So you came here because you needed someone to liven up your days and make them more memorable to you?’

‘I do not need a companion; I need a wife. And you’re my lawfully wedded wife; your place is at my side.’

‘We’ve had this conversation, darling,’ she said pleasantly, waving his words away as if they were flies. ‘I never wanted to be your wife, and I don’t intend to return so I can continue to endure your insults. I’m more my own woman than that.’

Obi relaxed into the chair, and then he laughed, deciding it was time to lay his cards on the table. ‘You were a whore, my dear,’ he reminded her. ‘Your past was seedy and reeked of dirtiness and decadence. If you refuse to come back to me, then I’ll spread your past out for the public to see. What about your family? Don’t you want to know who you really are? You see, I know everything there is to know about your family; my mother told me about it.’

He’d intended for his revelation to rattle her and hurt her, and from the way she jerked her head up as if she’d been slapped, it was obvious that it did.

However, her next reaction was unanticipated; her face hardened into an icy mask that made her look vicious, like some avenging angel; her hands trembled with cold fury while her breasts rose and fell under the thin stuff of her dress as if she was suffocating.

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Obi frowned in amazement, and it dawned on him with vivid clarity, that the Adamma he knew had changed. There was something in her face that seemed to suggest it irresistibly.

No . . . not her face. Her eyes . . . the indifference and amusement in their luminous depths had vanished and had congealed into a coldness that seemed to waft from them in icy, waves that seemed to reach out and touch his face. It really astounded him, making him to wonder if this could really be the woman he knew. There was a new awareness in her, as if she’d made a stunning new discovery about her capabilities.

‘You can’t do anything to me,’ she said, her voice cold and hard, her face a mirror of sheer contempt. ‘Ask yourself a question: why hasn’t anyone chosen to expose my life to the media even after all these years? Some things are better left unsaid, and I’ve also gotten over the urge to trace my family. Be warned, my darling. Don’t stir up disaster for yourself. I have warned you.’

Obi had looked up, and was staring past her towards the doors, his eyes fixed on a lady who was making her way towards them with a well-practiced sway of curvy hips. The woman was a vision of feminine allure, and, Adamma, following the direction of his gaze, saw the woman. Her brief stare became a basilisk glare at the pink-clad woman who was smiling at them_ at Obi. Della . . .

Stopping before their table, Della leaned forward and planted a brief kiss on his forehead, engulfing them in the cloying perfume that wafted from her couture. Sparing Adamma a scathing glare from her armory, she pulled up a chair and gracefully lowered herself into it.

Adamma felt a wave of unassailable dislike flow from her towards this woman as she glared right back at the intruder with pure loathing. She knew what definition to ascribe to this home destroyer who had come between she and her husband and whose actions had caused the already fragile threads of her marriage to disintegrate. But to be fair, she couldn’t entirely blame the woman 137

for her actions: after all, there were hundreds of women like her who prowled around, hunting for men gullible enough to fall for their charms . . .

Throughout their conversation, she sat there, keeping her mouth stubbornly clamped shut even though Obi and even Della tried to include her in their discussion. She sat there mutely, wondering why she’d lost her heart to Obi; why she had fallen in love with a man who was incapable of returning her love, she would never understand, she thought. Obi was a fool personified, and he didn’t deserve her affections. He had inflicted untold hardships on her, wrecking her heart through his verbal abuse, his wanton disregard for her feelings, browbeating her into submission through his skilful use of blackmail . . . and then, he was busy lusting after women; other women. But he’d told her that he hadn’t slept with Della, hadn’t he? Was it true? Or was it a ploy on his part to make her come running back to his arms so they could enjoy nights of unbridled passion?

‘Oh honey, it was so hilarious!’ Della trilled, the sound yanking Adamma’s wandering mind back to their table.

Adamma wondered what the horrendous woman thought was so hilarious about and wanted to chime in with a sarcastic retort. But she changed her mind; the woman wasn’t worth the aggravation.

Obi fixed his eyes on Adamma, mischief twinkling in their depths, and he gave her a long probing look. He said, ‘Della and I were discussing the possibility of a man and his mistress moving in together after the breakup of the man’s marriage. And I wondered what you think about such a notion,’ he added.

Adamma frowned; she said nothing, ignoring provocation she knew to be deliberate. And then Della fixed her with a cold stare and said, ‘I know you‘re such a renowned star, with great beauty at your disposal, and men must be falling all over themselves to go out with you. Sometimes I envy the freedom you have around men; you don’t have to go to them_ they come to you. Do you allow them to get a go at you?’

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‘I do not bare my private life to whores and gossip-mongers,’ she snapped, making no attempt at sticking to social etiquette.

Della threw her head back and laughed, the sound a cultivated trill that made some people at the other tables to turn around and stare at her. ‘Gossipmongers and whores . . . oh, you’re such a hypocrite, hiding behind your veil of stardom and yet, your life is as dark as sin. And between you and me, you are the whore; the lousy bitch; you are the one who strip yourself half-naked on the screens. Oh, you are so alluring, but you’re not normal. If you were, then you would have held your marriage together. You are worth less than nothing!’

She turned to Obi, her made-up eyes flashing with satisfaction. ‘Let’s get out of here, darling,’ she said, rising to her feet and extending one long hand which ended in long acrylic nails towards him. But he didn’t budge, and his eyes emitted disapproval at her. ‘The sight of this bitch really sickens me with disgust.’

Adamma froze in her seat, and her eyes swiveled around towards Obi; she could see that he was appalled at this woman’s horrible behavior. At least, for the very first time, they were on the same side. Fury welled up in her chest, and the pent-up emotions she’d kept bottled up for so long threatened to overwhelm her, spreading from the pit of her stomach to her chest, rushing onward to her brain as a surge of adrenalin coursed through her until a cold fury seemed to invade even her fingertips. How dare this woman insult her with such audacity?

What impudence!

Della raised one hand to brush off a lock of hair from her face, and then Adamma rose to her feet, clenched her right fingers into a ball and rammed it into the woman’s jaw, sending the woman reeling backwards into her chair, a scream of pain erupting from her lips. She crashed into her chair, and then she continued falling, her body crashing into a nearby table, her hand clearing away the contents of the table as she struggled to retain her balance, and then she was sprawling to the floor, and a trickle of blood ran down her left cheek.

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All eyes in the restaurant turned towards the spectacle, and Adamma turned round to go, but, in a flash, Della was up and across the room towards her; she hit the singer at the back of her neck with a tray, and Adamma fell forward, though she regained her equilibrium instantly_ years of yoga and long hours of flexibility training and poll dancing came to her aid. She halted, and she turned towards her adversary, her eyes deadly, her fists balled with fury. The two women circled each other, and Adamma had the feeling that they were fighting for Obi’s affections; it was a battle between the wife and the paramour; the owner of the house and the meddlesome interloper.

Della looked battle-ready. ‘You think you can scare me?’ she shouted.

‘You think you can just embarrass me and go scot-free? I’ll sit on your head and make you eat sand.’

Obi was horrified; however, he was not fearful for his wife; he knew that underneath all that sensuality and sexy body was a monstrously strong woman, a gutter fighter who’d toughened herself up on the hard streets of Lagos. ‘Della, do not attack her,’ he said, looking from one furious face to the other; even the diners were still stunned by what they were witnessing, and he wanted to save his former lover a lot of pain.

There was even a few of them that were getting their phones out and turning the cameras on, hoping to catch every single moment of the spectacle so they could spread it through the hallowed halls of the information superhighway.

But the woman was already rushing towards Adamma, ready to do battle.

Then Adamma was moving on her feet like a ballerina, as if this was a perfectly choreographed fight scene in a movie. She slipped past the woman’s arms, her feet kicking out towards Della’s midriff, and then Della was on the floor, shrieking in pain.

‘What have you just done?’ Obi gasped in horror, leaping up from his chair to rush over to aid Della who was struggling to her feet, one hand clutched at her jaw, a look of murderous rage on her face, her eyes red with pain and fury.

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Adamma was furious. ‘How dare you ask me that stupid question?’ she demanded, though her voice sounded very controlled and she appeared calm; she had a public reputation to protect. It was only her deadly eyes which gave any indication of her anger. ‘She attacked me. She hit me with a metal tray and I was only trying to leave. I could sue her for that!’

Obi was torn between two impossible dilemmas; he wanted to kick his wife for being so hard on the hapless woman, though he also wanted to kiss her senseless: she was managing the situation with an intelligence and foresight that would make her look like the victim of a vicious attack from a deranged female.

Della was the villain, but he went to her and held her, and then he gently pulled her back so he could assess the damage to her face. But he was accidentally standing on the hem of her gown, and, as he drew her back to look at her face, the thin straps that held the gown in place snapped and it fell away from her body, revealing the strapless push-up bra she wore and the pink panties she wore. With a scream, she shoved him away from her and reached down, pulling the torn gown up to cover herself.

‘You bastard!’ she shouted at him, and then her hand flew up to his face in a slap that was delivered with all the strength her outraged body could muster.

‘You did that on purpose! I am going to kill you for this! I swear it! God! You’ll pay for this!’ Whirling round, she turned and fled from the restaurant as the security men began to arrive.

The men formed a wall around Adamma as Obi instructed them to lead her into the manager’s office while he retrieved her imitation leopard purse and her manuscript and followed them. He then instructed the men to leave so they could have some privacy. She sank into a chair in the plush office and then rubbed at the back of her neck with her fingers.

‘I’m going to have a blinding headache soon,’ she said, and then she confessed, ‘it sure felt really good taking that bitch down. She deserved to be taught a lesson or two for her impudence.’

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Obi leaned against the opposite chair and then watched her. ‘I am really sorry about it, my dear whore,’ he said, and then he was sorry he’d that last line.

But she seemed to be in high spirits, and she laughed softly, the low sound making desire hammer at him. A lump rose in his throat. ‘I’d like to do nothing more than to grab you and kiss you senseless,’ he confessed as he felt the spark of electricity in the air between them.

She smiled at him, her lips curling with invitation. She said flippantly, ‘You can try, my dear, and I won’t stop you. At least you earned your pay today.’

She was daring him, challenging him with her words. And since he was never one to back down from a challenge, he moved forward in two giant strides and took her in his arms. One part of her; the rebellious part, wanted to pummel him and shove him away from her, but the other part of her won, and she found herself leaning in towards him even though this was an office_ heaven knew that the scandal she’d have to deal with if they were ever discovered would be more than enough to shatter her peace of mind. But it had been spontaneous, and he was her husband. Even though she truly felt like shooting him down with a gun, she couldn’t help it that their bodies fitted in so perfectly with each other.

His fingers were becoming entwined with her hair, and he was sucking on her lower lip and murmuring her name, the sound like a gentle caress to her brain which couldn’t even think straight. She felt the hardness of his erection pressing into her, and she was so caught up on a crest of lust_ desire, after all, she’d discovered that she loved him_ that she did not even notice as his fingers touched the front zipper on her blouse, and he was pulling it down. Then, the cold, hard doze of waking reality snapped into her, and she realized that she was acting foolishly, like a woman who’d never had a man before.

She remembered that he’d called her a whore just a few minutes ago, and what it meant was that he still hadn’t yet seen her for the true woman that she 142

was. To him, she was his property. And that was not what she wanted. No man had ever dared to treat her like this.

She broke away from him, her fingers gently pushing him back as she stared coldly at him. ‘No,’ she said firmly, shaking her head. ‘This will not do at all. We are in a man’s office.’

Obi smiled at her, and his eyes were filled with passion. ‘You’re right. Let us go home and continue from where we’d stopped.’

‘Yes.’ She zipped up her blouse and rose to her feet, picking up her purse and the manuscript. ‘I’m going home, dear.’

‘You’re coming with me.’

‘No I’m not; I’ve got my own house and that is where I’m going to. Do not think you can browbeat me into doing your bidding. I told you I was not coming home, and I meant it. That house you call a home is a curse, and I’m really glad I walked away from it.’

Obi frowned in confusion. ‘But you were just responding in my arms and moaning your approval at my kisses.’

‘Yes, I was, and so what? You had to be taught a lesson, and there was no better way to teach you a lesson on humility than to tease you and then leave you hanging. See you later, darling.’ And she walked to the door, threw it open, and then she walked out into the corridor without looking back. She had made her decision, and she would never return to him again.

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CHAPTER ELEVEN

Obi realized that he was as perturbed by Della’s humiliation as he was by his wife’s sheer refusal to return back to his house. It troubled him that he’d lost Della as a friend because he was more interested in her friendship than he was in her body because of the fact that since his marriage to the beautiful singer who was the fantasy of every man and every sexually confused woman in the country, he’d never looked at another woman.

There was nothing they had that his wife couldn’t give to him, but in Della’s case, she’d been unaware that he was married, and that was why she couldn’t keep her hands off him at that party, and Adamma had witnessed it all.

Now, Della wanted to have nothing more to do with him because of her firm belief that he had deliberately tripped on her gown. And it was just as well, he thought; he didn’t want her cloying attention and it was good that they’d broken up after years of dating. But he hadn’t wanted them to break up in that horrible way.

Rejection loomed desolately in his mind, and he realized that he’d lost a lot, and it was all because of Adamma. He began to marvel at how she could effortlessly map out roles for the people in her life to play, and how they pandered to her whims with animal stupidity. He was now in her world, trapped in an endless maze of corridors which she’d left for him to explore, and he was doing so.

Four months had swept past since their encounter at the Hilton club, and the date was moving forward inexorably towards their two years marriage anniversary. He wanted to meet her and talk to her privately again, but it was impossible. At that time she’d met with him at the Hilton club, she’d met him because she’d wanted to talk to him; at least she told him that much on the day he’d managed to get her on the phone.

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But now, that kind of chance encounter was impossible and could not be repeated; she saw to it that she was surrounded by people wherever she went, and there were security men who guarded her house_ they were all strong and uniformed, with guns dangling from their belts, and had barred him from entry when he tried to visit her. He’d left messages with her secretary, asking her to call him, but she greeted him with stony silence. He’d sent her several emails; none were answered, and it was as if she was playing with him, making him look stupid, and he didn’t want to fight her publicly.

He didn’t know if he loved her, hated her, or merely wanted to assert his male superiority and manhood over her. But in that last aspect of his thoughts, he’d failed dismally because she’d made it public that she was now living away from him. It had been during the official press conference she’d done at the Nigerian Television Authority for her latest seventeen-track album that she’d announced to a nationwide audience that she was no longer living with her husband. Furious, he’d driven to her house the following day to confront her but had been told by the placid-faced guards that she’d left earlier that day for a tour to promote her new album. The album became a continental best-seller within a week.

The sensation of being an entirely helpless puppet with Adamma pulling the strings fuelled his rage against her. While he’d been making plans to bring her home, make adequate preparations for her comfort, and even come to an understanding with her to see if they’d stop their fights, she’d broken loose from him and gone ahead to announce to the world that she was an independent woman who could do whatever she pleased.

And, because of her stupidity in thinking that she could just ridicule him and go free, she had to be suitably punished. He had to see her pleading with fear, her face a mask of worry. She was almost thirty_ she’d clock thirty in a few weeks’ time, while he would turn thirty-six, and their children would be turning twelve, but she had destroyed everything. At the Hilton club, when she 145

was kissing him, it was as if she was subjecting him to some kind of test, and he’d failed, so she had fled.

He no longer wanted her, he told himself, though deep within himself, he wanted to chain her down to his side. And he still wanted his kids back in his arms, but he felt that it was highly unlikely because he felt certain that his wife had turned them against him. He also felt an arching deep within his heart, that there was a part of him that was missing.

His office door slammed and he looked up, watching as Hope walked gracefully into the room. Her lime-green suit fitted her like a second skin and was accentuated by the small dab of green eye shadow she’d used to highlight her eyes. She barely looked forty, he thought to himself, though she’d recently celebrated her fiftieth birthday party. She moved into the chair opposite him and settled herself comfortably on it, her eyes regarding him warily.

‘Tell me how you’re enjoying your life, my dear boy,’ she said, using the favorite term she often used on him when he was still a little boy but which she used now only when she had very important she wished to discuss with him. ‘I mean, after that woman had poured such scorn on you on TV, you know . . .’

He knew what she meant; after all, his mother seemed to hate Adamma now with a frightening intensity. He sighed. ‘Yes, after what she’s done to me, life has suddenly become so boring and everybody seems to be blaming me for the way I let her slip through my fingers. They all think I’m a fool. Her bitchy secretary called two weeks ago, telling me that she’s getting ready to press for a divorce and would discuss the matter with me whenever they were ready for me.

And do you know what that means? The bitch will be pressing for a huge settlement_ she is a big celebrity, and would claim that her reputation would be badly affected, so she might try and lay claim to half of my wealth!’

Hope leaned back in her chair, a smile wreathing her face as she brushed imaginary specks of lint from her suit. ‘Well, you have the money, so no need

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sweating yourself to death. And what about the kids_ will you press for their custody?’

Obi banged his fists on the tabletop with frustrated anger. ‘Come on, mother!’ he growled. ‘You know how it is; you know how it’s meant to be. The kids grew up under her guidance, and so the courts will automatically let her have them. But I am not ready to let her go yet. She wants everything to be played according to her tunes, but I still want my share in the lyrics; she cannot just dictate to me.’

The smile Hope had been wearing disappeared from her face, to be replaced by look of harsh determination. Her eyes narrowed to a hard stare sharp enough to cut bone and she leaned forwards, her lips compressed in a grim line, and then she spoke. ‘I know what you want, son; you want to get even with Adamma. You want to punish her for what she’s done to you; she dangled her beauty before you, baiting you with her powerful looks that cannot be ignored, and then she withdrew herself from you, aware of her powers and how she can use them. Well, I can help you get her back so you can do whatever you want with her; however, no matter what you do, I want you to keep her clear of my house.’

Obi tore his gaze away from his contemplation of the tabletop so he could frown questioningly at his mother. He wanted to ask her a question, but the look on her face stopped him from saying anything. Rather, his mind dwelt on the possible reasons pertaining to why his mother would show such interest in his wife, and then he remembered: Adamma had a past life which was shrouded in mystery, and Hope had the key to unlocking that past. But why would his mother choose to get herself entangled with the ex-hooker who had more plans and agendas up her sleeves than an army general?

He leaned forward, and his eyes clashed with his mother’s. ‘Tell me, mother,’ he said, and his voice had dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. ‘Tell

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me what you know about the enigmatic woman who’s been a nagging worry to me?’

‘She was a striptease and a whore at a nightclub over a decade ago. She worked there as their most popular girl, and then she left there and became a musician with Dan’s help.’

Obi waved impatiently and bade her to continue. ‘I know that, mother. I was aware of that fact a long time ago. What else do you know about her?’

Hope smiled, but there was something cruel about her smile that chilled her son’s blood. ‘My dear, I think you’ll love this. Her parents were related to each other; what that means is that Adamma and her elder sister were the products of an incestuous relationship. Her father had loved me and had wanted to marry me but she’d pried him away from my arms, and even though their family had serious inhibitions about their relationship, they disappeared together and started a family together_ Adamma and her dead sister were the products of that union.’

‘No!’ Obi breathed incredulously, his eyes widening with shocked disbelief.

He refused to accept what his mother wanted him to accept, but then, Hope couldn’t possibly be lying. Or, could she?

Hope nodded, satisfied with herself. ‘Yes, dear,’ she said, patting Obi’s arm. ‘They were conceived out of incest. Even her maternal grandmother has seen her songs and has refused to acknowledge the girl as her offspring. Let me explain. Adamma’s grandmother had married two husbands_ her first husband died in a hunting incident but by then she’d given birth to the angel-faced devil who took my lover away from me. She married subsequently, but it turned out that her second husband had adopted a son before he married her. And these two youngsters fell in love after I’d met and fallen in love with the guy; they wanted to get married. Everybody refused.’

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Obi frowned as he drummed his fingers thoughtfully on the tabletop. ‘But there is no incest involved; not in the real sense of the word. There was no blood relationship between them.’

Hope nodded. ‘Yes, there wasn’t, but the point is the union fell in within the statutorily prohibited degree of consanguinity and affinity. It would make such a huge scandal, she might even commit suicide.’

Snapping open her bag, she extracted a stack of photographs which were bound together by a brown ribbon and gave them to Obi. He glanced through them all, the expression on his face thoughtful. They were pictures of a much younger Adamma, and they were the story of the life she’d lived inside the clubs. There she was singing, dressed in a gown that barely covered her prized assets which were now earning her so much accolades; there she was again, seated on the laps of a middle-aged man, giving him a lap dance; and there she was, standing in the middle of a raised dais, money spread out all around her_ she was nude, and had stripped off her clothes when the money her audience were tossing at her was substantial enough.

Obi smiled, but it was a smile that was devoid of warmth as he stared at the pictures that was spread on the table before him. He was holding the key to his wife’s past life in his hands; it was the weapon that would destroy her if he ever made them public_ all he had to do was to spend less than an hour before a computer, and then all hell would break loose. He’d ruin her public image irreparably if he ever flung those pictures at the thousands of people who idolized her.

‘My dear, you now know what to do,’ Hope said, and he looked up at her and saw the triumph in her face. ‘You hold a deadly weapon in your hands.

Destroy that woman, or I will.’

Rising to her feet, Hope turned round and sauntered and sauntered out of the office with the feline grace of a cat, watched by her son. And then he smiled victoriously to himself, a wave of happiness intermingled with a touch of 149

sadness engulfed him as he conjured up images of what his wife’s reaction would be when he went to her and waved the pictures in her face and told her what he’d heard from his mother.

There was really no incest involved due to the fact that there was no blood relationship between them in any way, but it would be utterly scandalous if the news ever came out; people would never ask questions as to what had really transpired. He was really sorry about her life and the fact that she’d really suffered to get to her current position and station in life, but due to the way she’d cut him off as if he was some inconsequential riffraff, he had to use whatever way imaginable and get her back into his arms. She wanted him to come to her groveling on his knees, asking for forgiveness_ from what? But he wasn’t going to do that. She belonged to him, and he’d blackmail her back into his arms and make her be what he wanted her to be to him.

The seedy world of prostitution she’d been steeped in during the time of her youth would be used as a weapon against her now that she was in the prime of her life. Her past would serve as a curse to her and would be the means through which he’d bring her back to his life and into his bed, and this time, nothing would make him free her.

And with the myriad of facts he now knew about her, there was no way she could escape from him. Not even the battery of assistants and security personnel she’d surrounded herself with would help her this time around. He had the single-minded focus of a super computer, and he’d really turned his attention towards getting her back to his house. Now, she was his, and there was no way he’d ever let her go again. He had to give her a reason to stay; he had to make her understand that there was nothing she could say or do to make her escape from him; she could not bargain for her freedom because there was nothing for her to bargain for. She was his, and there was nothing to be done about it.

The days all passed into a blur constant blur of boredom for him. Working himself tirelessly from morning to night no longer had the therapeutic effect it 150

usually had on him like it used to, and he found himself attending luncheons and dinner parties where stupid matchmaking madams constantly and shamelessly besieged him from every angle, thrusting their lamb-brained daughters in his face with whom he could practically hold no conversation with due to the fact that they had zero intelligence in their brains. And then he stopped attending these lunches and stopped accepting invitations. Since he couldn’t be stimulated intellectually by any of them the way his wife stimulated him with her sharp wits and her intelligence, he found out that all such pursuits had lost their flavor for him.

The one subject that haunted him with unwavering tenacity was the subject of his wife’s life. He had to admit to himself that she had an appeal that made her irresistible, and there was a goddess appeal about her that was completely unique. And she’d dared him in many ways, as if she wanted to know what his reaction would be. Oh, he would retaliate in his own way, of course; that was what he was preparing for.

He’d stared at one of her pictures that adorned the east wall of his office every morning when he came to work, and he would nod with approval at how stunning she looked. To his eyes, she was so beautiful, sculpted to physical perfection; she was a dangerous woman who knew the type of power she had and yet never hesitated to use it to her advantage.

Even now, several years after their first encounter, he still could not erase the memory of how she’d looked at him as their eyes had locked together; it was as if at that very moment, she’d branded him as hers. And he’d known that she was a load of trouble, but like the fool he was, he’d fallen for her anyway, just the great men of the world had fallen for the stunning women who had subsequently destroyed them.

One day, after he’d returned from a board meeting with the staff of one of his establishments, he took his car keys, got into the machine, and then he drove out into the traffic, knowing what he must do; what he had to do. He wanted to 151

know Adamma better; he wanted to understand the real reason why she’d gotten herself steeped in the seedy world of the Lagos night life; he wanted to understand how she’d made her meteoric rise to stardom in spite of all the odds that had been against her. There was a choking curiosity within him to know more about her than he already knew, and he knew that if he didn’t seek the answers to the numerous questions he had about her, then he’d never rest.

He drove to Ajegunle, one of the shocking slum areas of Lagos state, to the Happy Day club where his wife had started her history; the place where his life with her had begun on that fateful night, nearly thirteen years ago. And when he got to Ajegunle, his mind still tuned to Adamma, he drove through the dirty streets for twenty minutes before he finally eased the car into the grounds of the club. He smiled, remembering how it had looked the only time he’d visited it years ago; it hadn’t changed much.

As he approached the steel entrance doors, the door eased open and a freakishly tall girl, with an olive complexion and was dressed in a skimpy nothing gown that defied decency stepped out. She was pretty, though her beauty had hardened, and her face broke into the hard welcoming smile only a whore knows how to give, contriving to appear eager to please.

‘Are you in for a drink, or is there something else you’d like?’ she asked, looking him over expectantly.

‘If you can answer one or two questions, then you’ll earn yourself a drink,’ Obi told her, smiling back at her.

Her smile disappeared so fast, there was no expression waiting to cover the ensuing blankness. She now looked wary, and when she spoke, her voice was hard and flat. ‘What kind of questions do you want to ask?’

‘How long have you been working here?’

‘Three months. Why are you interested in knowing how long I’ve worked here?’

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‘Sorry, but you cannot help me,’ Obi said pleasantly, and then he made to walk past her, but she caught his arm, her fingers clamping down hard on his wrist. He paused to look at her and she returned his look boldly, her eyes challenging him.

‘Try me,’ she urged softly, ‘I may not have spent a long time here but at least I know everything that goes on here. It is the only way for us to survive; we keep our ears open. I’d be a fool to shut my eyes to everything that goes on here, and besides that, I need your money. Tell me what you want to know.’

The determination in her voice left no room for any arguments, and Obi decided to test her and see whether she truly had her ears to the ground as she claimed to do, he said, ‘Ok, that’s fair. I need information about a girl who’d worked here as a singer and a dancer several years ago_ almost twelve or thirteen years ago. She was very popular then, and I am quite sure that there must be someone who’d remember her quite well. I am looking for such a person.’

He was unprepared for the slow smile that spread across her lips, and then broadened into a grin. She said, ‘I will definitely not know anything about such a person, but there’s a man who can help you. Since you say she was very popular back then, he must know her. However, if he doesn’t, then there is no other person to help you. Follow me.’

And she turned and headed back the way she’d come from, walking leisurely but swiftly. She led him into the club, and he was engulfed by the smell of cheap beer and cigarette smoke. There was a fair sprinkling of people in the club’s interior, but Obi knew that the club would be full to the point of overflowing at night when the singers and the strippers would be performing their act, and men and women would come in, seeking to buy sex from the willing sex workers. That was the way it was in this city; there was nothing that could not be bought by the persons with the money to buy it, provided that the price was right.

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She led him across the dance floor into a dimly lit corridor that had doors scattered to its left and right corners. The girl led him down the long floor, and then she stopped before one of the doors and stopped, turning back around to look at him. She then knocked, jerking the doorknob back and easing the door open to reveal the interior of what looked like an office.

‘We call him Daddy here,’ she said, giving Obi a lopsided glance that made him feel like a freak for coming here to unearth the ghosts of Adamma’s past life. She continued. ‘He loathes talking about his girls, but if you rub his back well enough and give him a good reason to talk, then he will talk.’

Obi smiled his thanks, his fingers reaching into his jacket pocket for his leather wallet. He contrived to look charming and thankful as he started to pull out some bills from it, but the girl laid her arm on his, stilling his movements.

She said, ‘I am sorry, but I do not accept charity; I like to earn the money I have, and I haven’t done anything to earn this money.’ She smiled at him, and then she turned round was gone.

Obi was puzzled by her frankness and warped sense of morality, but he said nothing as he walked into the room and eased the door shut quietly. The room was decorated in shades of green and brown’ there was a brown Persian carpet that was spread on the floor; it was worn but neat; the walls were painted a dull green color that matched the green wallpaper, and there were pictures of famous foreign pop stars, actresses, and nude girls that adorned the walls like trophies the room’s occupant had won.

On the other side of the room, facing the door was a huge mahogany desk whose color blended in with the color of the grey-haired, impassive-faced man that reclined behind it on a swivel chair. At a rough guess, he could be fifty, or sixty, or even seventy; the flash of intelligence in his silvery eyes made it almost impossible to tell.

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Obi advanced towards the man. ‘I am sorry for barging on you like this, but I was thinking that maybe, you can help me,’ he said, stopping before the desk and looking into the man’s oddly disconcerting eyes without flinching.

The man motioned him into the chair opposite him and then cleared his throat before he spoke, his voice surprisingly soft, mellowing the ice in his stony eyes. ‘My boy, I am not quite as young as I used to be and so, I can use the company, no matter how formal it might be. Well, what can I do for you?’

Obi crossed one leg over the other before he proffered a reply. ‘I need information about one of the girls who worked here several years ago and I was told that you were the only one that can help me. Well, let me put it this way: around twelve years ago, a girl worked here as a dancer and a singer. She was very popular here, and was outstandingly beautiful to look at, and she had a body that every man dreams of and every woman would die for. I would like to know everything about her, and I’m quite sure that her name would jolt your memory. Her name was Adamma.’

He was watching the older man intently as he spoke, concentrating on the man’s facial expression, and now, he noticed a shift in the man’s indifference.

The silver eyes had hardened, and his face had taken on an animated expression, and Obi knew that the man still remembered who she was. Well, who wouldn’t?

The man hummed softly to himself, and then he asked, ‘Do you mean Adamma, the singer?’

Obi nodded. ‘That’s the one I’m talking about. But then there are not two women that bear that name and had worked here, is there? Even if there is, then I don’t care; the one you mentioned is the person I’m interested in.’

The man fixed Obi with a cold stare, his lips compressed in a grim line, his fingers tapping some tunes on the desk. It was as if he was fighting some inner battle within himself, trying to make up his mind pertaining to whether or not he should talk to Obi about one of the star performers in his club; it was as if he was trying to make some urgent decision. That was the thought that flashed 155

through Obi’s mind at that moment. And then he asked himself a one-syllable question: why? Was the man trying to protect the famous singer?

A moment later, the man relaxed and spread his lips in a smile, and he didn’t look so formidable now that he was smiling. He raised one hand. ‘I will discuss her and tell you what you’d like to know about her. First, let me start by telling you how I met her. One day, she just knocked and walked in through that door, stepping into this very room. Now, let me tell you that she was an extraordinarily beautiful girl, and when she told me that she was interested in working here, I was flabbergasted. She was extremely beautiful, and so could do anything she wanted to do, but yet, she wanted to work here? Even though I liked her from that moment, I had to see what she was capable of, so I put on some music, sat back, and then I watched her perform her striptease. It was beyond imagination, and so I had to call in some of my men to watch her and see the pure magic she’d made with her stripping.’

‘And so you employed her?’

The older man lifted his shoulders in a shrug. ‘Well, from the very moment she performed her act and my men sat in here and assessed her performance with me, I knew I’d struck gold; I had seen a goddess in action, and I would have been a fool not to have hired her. She started work that night, and, after a week, she became our number-one girl. Her name was on every lip, and she brought in a lot of business for us and also earned a nice package for herself, and so I issued an order; no man was to touch her or make a go at her unless it was at her instance_ she was never to be touched. And she wasn’t, and men flooded in from all corners of the metropolis to come and watch her. She really had great potentials.’

Obi frowned. ‘Since you knew she had such great potentials, did you try to tap into it?’

‘I tried to, but then there was no way to really help her. And she was the kind of hard girl with a lot of intelligence and dignity to boot, and she wanted 156

no help,’ the older man said dryly. ‘She had a great body, a magical face, and she had a lovely voice; she could sing like a queen, so she took up singing on Friday nights. Her success was phenomenal; everybody was crazy about her_ she was the best cock-teaser we had_ pardon my language, and she could sing and also back that singing voice with a dancing step that could make a man forget his name.’

Looking at the man opposite him whose eyes had turned dreamy with remembrance of bygone days, Obi said, ‘She must have been very popular.’

‘To the men, she was the best thing and greatest piece of ass they’d ever seen, but to the other girls? Well, they were insanely jealous of her. But then, she had a lot of dignity and guts, and so would shoulder no bullshit from anybody; she steered clear of the animals. It was only her friend Amanda, a worker here and then a soft hooker whom the men loved for her full figure that really did care about her. Perhaps it was because she did not have to compete with Adamma, but the point is that Amanda had cared.’

Obi’s eyes narrowed suspiciously at the mention of that name, and then his brows shot to his hairline. The name this man had mentioned had rang a bell in his mind, and his brain hammered at it, working and churning with lightning speed to arrive at the answers he sought. And then, right out of nowhere, the answer flashed through his mind. It was Amanda, his wife’s closest friend, the woman who had on more than two occasions threatened to slice off his balls if he ever hurt her friend. So, she’d had a history with his wife? She had been a whore? She had known Adamma for so long?

Brushing aside this new piece of information for later handling, he turned to the next item on his itinerary. ‘How did she survive by selling her body?’

The man’s lips relaxed into the semblance of a smile. ‘Not much. She only slept with the men whose purse she considered to be deep enough for her attentions, and she sent the less fortunate ones off with such grace and charm, they could never be angry at her. She was a terrific stripper, a wonderful singer, 157

but I think she hated being a whore. Right now, as I look back over the years, and into her eyes, it’s suddenly dawned on me how she must have loathed it; there was such a look of great sadness in her eyes, that I often felt very sorry for her. And that is a luxury I can barely afford to indulge in. But then, my girl was ambitious, a predator who knew her prey, and so she waited, and I was often terrified, afraid I’d lose her to some rich bastard who would care enough for her to take her away from here; I did lose her.’

Caught on a burgeoning crest of fascination, Obi asked, ‘How?’ ‘Well, she waited for her prey, and she found it. I was in the bar on that particular night, and she was up there on that stage where she spun her magic and the men fell for her, and she was singing. And then her eyes swept through the crowd that were enchanted by her, and they rested on a young man who was so swept away in ecstasy, I feared he was on another planet. There was something extremely cold and assessing about that glance she threw at him, and then after she was done for the night, she walked straight to his table and sat there with him, and they talked in hushed tones, their heads leaning close together. I do not know what happened next, but she stood up and left with him; she never returned.’

Obi frowned. ‘She just left?’

‘Well, I saw her leaving with the handsome bloke in his expensive car, and then she never came back here again. I went to see her and know why she was betraying me, and she told me that she was pregnant; she wanted to start a new life and take care of herself and her baby. I gave her a fat sum of money, wished her good luck, and then I left. A year later, I heard about the album that was making waves in the market, and then I saw that it was her; she’d finally made it in life.’

What Obi refrained from divulging to the man was that the handsome stranger Adamma had left the club with on that night; the man who took her and

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catapulted her to stardom after he’d helped her during the period of her pregnancy, was Dan. He also kept mute about who the father of her babies were.

The older man was looking at him strangely, and he felt as if he was being assessed like a side of beef. ‘That is all I can tell you about her,’ he said.

‘However, I’d like to know who you are and why you’re so interested in her.

Obviously, you’re not a journalist or I would not have even let you sit here talking to me.’

Obi stood up and then lifted his shoulders in a shrug of feigned indifference.

‘I am her friend, so I was just curious about her. Thank you for your help.’ He extended his right hand and the older man clasped it in a firm handshake.

The man smiled, but now, there was hint of malice in the silver eyes that was looking at Obi. ‘Let me tell you something you might find useful in the future. My girls live very hard lives which bake the essence of humanity out of them. They turn into hardened women. They later get married, have kids, but the hardness and coarse texture still remains, and if you were stupid enough to push them too far, the gutter fighter in them kicks in; you’ll then be in a hell lot of trouble. Oh, and I really know who you are, Adamma’s husband. But is that really all you are, or are you seeking to do something to her? I wouldn’t advise that.’

Was that a note of warning? Obi wondered as he took his leave of the man and hurried out of his presence. And how had the man been able to latch on to the fact that he was married to the singer? Since the man knew that he was her husband, why had he told him that much? And everything the man had said stuck to his mind as if they’d been glued on, making him to wonder about the dumb stupidity of it all; some people’s lives were indeterminable. And that thought made him to think of the troublesome woman that was an indelible part of his life.

Adamma . . .

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The elusive woman who had captured the reins of his desire had been a lowlife, a person who had barely managed to scratch through life in her youth and yet she’d been able to rise through the gutters to staggering fame and fortune. He felt oddly proud of her in a twisted way; she’d done it, even against all the odds that had been against her. How he loved the power of the strong woman who knew what she wanted and went out of her way to do anything she had to do in order to get what she wanted from the little that life had to offer her.

She certainly knew how to spin webs, he thought to himself. She knew how to languidly dangle him in the air as if he was her puppet, enslaving him emotionally and torturing him to the extent that he’d become addicted to her torture. And for how long had she left him without that exquisite pain only she had been able to induce in him? He questioned himself; he indulged in a series of self-evaluations: did he love her or merely wanted her to be by his side?

What did he really feel towards her? Why did her image loom unwaveringly in his mind and accompany him wherever he went?

He did not know the answers.

Perhaps if he’d started his life on a sour note like she had and gone through a series of sufferings and trials like she had, making him to emerge a different person, then the answers would be there for him to glimpse. He’d come from a very opulent family and had inherited a fortune, and that had precluded him from having a panoramic view of life; he’d been stopped from fully comprehending and understanding what physical suffering was like. And his wife had really suffered: she’d trolled the streets, an orphan in a sea of other orphans who took to the clubs in a desperate battle against Fate.

Now, there was urgency in him, a desire to have her back in his arms so he could glimpse that magical face again and touch those curves that had an irresistible appeal for her. He also would like to tell her that the things she had witnessed out there in the streets of Lagos which had baked something out of her, were over, that there was no need for her to be remembering them anymore.

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He was already having an erection as he stood there in the glare of the afternoon sunshine that was burning holes right through the ground, thinking about the woman he had married. No other woman held the kind of appeal she held for him, and he knew that he would never let her go. She was too precious to him, but of course he would never admit that fact to her. She belonged to him, and at such, he had to make her to come back into his arms.

He slid inside his car, started the engine, and then he drove back to his side of the Lagos metropolis.

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CHAPTER TWELVE

Adamma brushed a lock of hair back from her face, her fingers lifting her cup of tea to her lips while her eyes travelled absently to the pictures on the album that lay open before her on her laps. Her eyes fell on her mother’s picture and the look of disinterest that had blanketed her face fled, to be replaced by a narrow-eyed stare on the page.

Poor woman, she thought to herself as she allowed herself to stroke the smooth surface of the page where her mother was frozen forever. It was at times like this, when she allowed herself to take a look into the past and moan about things which might have been, that she sprawled in total devastation and misery.

She wished that her mother was there to share in her fame and fortune, and also be there to proffer advise to her on what to do about her tumultuous marriage to a man who did not care about her. Her mother would have known what to do to bring Obi firmly to heel and make him repent from his treatment of her.

Blinking back tears of pain and sorrow, Adamma allowed her mind to dwell on the events that had preceded the death of her parents. She knew that her parents had been barred from getting married to each other due to certain 162

customs of their people, but they’d told her that they were going to rectify it, that nothing would halt them from getting married to each other. And then they’d set off for their home, to go and do something about the bar that kept them from being legally termed man and wife, but they’d never returned from that trip. At least they’d been happy with each other, she thought. The joy they had known in each other’s company had blazed forth with such transparent honesty that Adamma could almost envy them. But that part of her history was dead to her, and she did not have the key to unlock the answers to the myriad of questions she had.

She sighed deeply to shake off the unwelcome memories that had assailed her senses, and then she laid down her cup of tea and walked into the room she’d designed as her study, intending to attend to more cheerful topics.

Switching on the laptop computer that occupied the tabletop, she reclined in her swivel chair while she let her eyes wander to the picture of her estranged husband that was on top of the table. She was sorry that she was giving him the cold shoulder, blocking whatever access he had to her, but she felt that it was a necessity that could not be ignored; at least not until she cleared her mind and decided on a new course of action to follow.

Damn, how she loathed him for his arrogance! When he’d approached her at the Hilton club and had wanted to devour her with his kisses so that she’d follow him home, she’d erroneously labored under the misapprehension that he would profess his love for her and then she’d forgive all his sins and they’d live happily ever after, but she’d been disappointed because all he wanted was to have her in his bed. And then she made her decision and went on a crusade that totally halted him from ever coming into whatever contact with her again. She’d burned all his notes, she’d never opened any of his emails, and she’d instructed her guards never to let him into her house. He had to become truly repentant and really desire her to come back before she’d ever give him the light of day again.

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The computer booted on, and then she logged in to the Internet and entered into her email account with her password. Her eyes scanned the messages in her inbox, and she discovered that she had a new message. Clicking on the message, she waited while the server connected her to the message, and then she frowned as her eyes looked at the one word that popped up on the screen like an obscene monster.

Whore . . .

A lump of cold steel dropped into her bowels as the meaning of the word sank into her mind, and she was almost paralyzed as she stared at it. An unthinkable dread, an icy fear and unparalleled shock engulfed her mind as hot tears misted her vision. Who could have sent her such a horrible message? That was the question she swept around in her mind as she trembled at the memory the word evoked.

It was an inflammatory allegation, an insulting label that somebody was flinging at her, bringing her past life to the fore now that all she wanted was to forget that there was ever such a chapter in her life and focus on the flourishing career she’d carved out for herself in the music industry. Why? Why would somebody choose to conjure up that past life she wanted to desperately forget and pretend as if it had never existed? And who could be responsible for sending such a hateful message to her?

Willing her trembling fingers to comply, she managed to scroll down the offending page, and then, her eyes caught sight of the attachments which had accompanied the message. They were photos, and she had to see them and know what they contained, so she clicked on them in the silence of the room, and as she beheld them, she felt a chill descend into her body, so that even her fingertips seemed to have been invaded a coldness that any surpassed any she’d ever felt before.

Tears spilled down her eyes as she at these photographs which told her life story, depicting her as the stripper and perfect whore she’d been during her 164

youth. It was a perfect reminder of who she’d been, and it all lay right there on the screen before her, taunting her with the message it came with, plunging her into an arctic wilderness of emotional turmoil.

She glanced at the pictures again even as cold fury welled up within her, and she knew that whoever has sent her these pictures had wanted her to react in this way, and she was obliging the unspoken request of her messenger.

But who could have been so malicious to send this message? Who could have gone to such lengths to dredge up her past and then mail her what he’d been able to find?

Even before her mind had been able to formulate the question, she knew the answer. It was Obi who could be callous enough to go to such great lengths in order to get her to give him the attention he wanted. He was the only person who knew that such a message would draw such a violent reaction from her and laugh at her outbursts.

She shook off her mental depression and fear, and she set up the program that would print the obscene contents on the screen. As the printer whirred to life, beginning to work on her command, she leaned back in her chair thoughtfully. She knew that confrontation with the man she’d not seen for some months because she wanted to keep him out of her affairs was inevitable. When the printer was done printing the ten pictures that had come with the message, she shut the monitor down and picked up the pictures on the tray.

Her anger growing with each passing moment, she turned and walked swiftly but silently out of the house, heading towards where she’d parked her two cars. She could see her kids playing a game of cards with Amanda and her friend looked up, questions in her eyes, but Adamma did not halt or even slow down in her strides. As she slid in behind the wheel of her white Mercedes, she signaled for one of the guards to open the gate, and she started the engine and zoomed off, tears of rage spilling down her cheeks.

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She rushed off a quick message to her best friend that she was returning soon; not to worry_ there was nothing to worry about.

The road passed in a blur of movement as she raced towards Obi’s hotel complex where she knew he would invariably be, her mind a chaotic river of thoughts and emotions. The traffic was dense at that time of the day, as per usual here in Lagos, so she had some time to think and gather her thoughts.

She would kill that arrogant bastard who had been trying to contact her for a long time but had failed. Now, he’d gotten her undivided attention, all right, and she was now ready for him just as she knew that he was ready for her. They had a battle to fight against each other, and they had their separate weapons in their arsenals with which to fight that war against each other.

The car surged forward as she pressed her foot down on the gas to hasten her drive to the place of confrontation where she knew that this man she loved, but who didn’t care a hoot about her, waited for her. She was driving now like the mad drivers of Lagos that she often castigated, and there were angry honks of the horn and those that yelled out obscenities at her in the native Yoruba.

Oh, damn him to hell! She almost wished he’d drop dead so she could have an iota of peace in her life, but some tiny part of her rebelled at that thought. If he something happened to him, then there was nothing for her to live for.

And the car continued to move, sometimes slowing down to a crawl as she became immersed in the abominable Lagos traffic which was a horror. But at least it gave her the time to clear her mind and think of what to say to her husband, and she was almost sorry when she finally arrived after spending almost an hour on the road. But her anger got the better of her, and she had to clutch at the reins of it, letting it wash over her so that she would not allow herself to be swayed by thoughts that she knew would be detrimental to her plans.

She parked her car in the well-laid parking lot of the Phoenix Hotels, and then she jumped out of the car, her eyes moving up to the office area so she 166

could glimpse the curtains of the office Obi occupied on the tenth floor. She had often castigated him sometimes jokingly that he was one of the few men that chose to make a hotel the headquarters of their business, but he had seemed to love and enjoy having his main base of operation here at the hotel.

And then she saw him at the window, and their eyes met and held, a current of unspoken words surging through them like a wave. She forced herself to look away, and she headed towards the opulent hotel, aware of Obi’s eyes watching her.

And he was really shocked that he was seeing her here. He’d merely come to the window so he could part them and allow shafts of sunlight drift into the air-conditioned room. He’d sighed with a feeling of contentment, and was about to turn back into the room when he’d caught sight of a white car driving into the complex. He’d paused, knowing instinctively who the car belonged to; Adamma.

Frowning severely to mask his incredulity, he watched as she jumped out of the car with the energy and agility of an athlete, and their eyes clashed. But she looked away and headed towards the sprawling complex, and he steeled himself as he awaited her intrusion into his office.

Minutes later, he heard the elevator doors sliding open, and then Adamma’s voice pierced through the stillness with the strength and sharpness of a bullet blast. She was thundering at the secretary in an icy voice to let her into the office, and the woman was rendering excuses. But the singer was not to be deterred from her course; she walked right past the woman and then marched into the office, slamming the door shut with feral force. She walked towards him, her chest heaving with rage, her hand clutching the sheets paper she’d printed out from her computer.

‘How dare you?’ she asked in a harsh voice, waving the papers in his face.

‘How dare you do this to me? Why don’t you just leave me alone?’

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Obi stared grimly into the face of his wife. ‘What did I do to you, my dear girl? What could be so bad that you’ve decided to come to me even after I’d made a lot of efforts to contact you?’

‘These!’ she snapped, flinging the papers down on the table with a thump.

‘You enjoy digging dirt up, don’t you? You’re just a filthy blackmailer. Oh my God, Obi, how low you’ve gone. You run around, digging up dirt that is supposed to be buried, just so you can blackmail me. But it will not work!’

Obi stared at the pictures on the tabletop, his lips compressed in a grim line, his eyes narrowing on the pages sharply. Though the fact that Adamma pointed accusing fingers at him unwaveringly, he knew that he was not the person who had done what she was accusing him of. And there was only one person who could have done it: Hope.

Forcing himself to look up at the near-hysterical woman who stood before him, he said succinctly, ‘It was my mother who sent you these pictures, not me.’

Adamma stared at her husband, her eyes wide with disbelief. ‘Hope?’ she asked, her voice trembling. ‘She did this? Oh no, and I had thought that she was a good woman, but she’s just shown herself to be the hypocrite I never suspected she could be. But I’ll get her for this. I swear it!’

Whirling round, she started to walk away, but Obi’s hand clamped down on hers with crushing force, halting her movements. When she turned around to look at him, he was glaring at her with a cold fury just as cold as her own.

‘Oh no, you cannot touch my mother,’ he snapped. ‘You dare not go to my mother because the pictures she’d sent to you are the truths about your life you’ve refused to acknowledge. You were a whore, Adamma. You were made one when you found your way into the seedy clubs where you spent your youth.’

Tears spilled down her cheeks as the words sank into her mind. ‘Oh no,’ she cried, and her voice was a broken sound that was barely recognizable. ‘I was driven to it! Do you ever understand anything? I am not a whore!’

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‘Oh, aren’t you?’ he taunted, his hands pulling her close to his chest. And then his hands his fingers went to her hips, caressing her rounded butt. She gasped and arched against him in shock and pleasure as if a bolt of electricity had been zapped through her, and he brought his lips down to hers, claiming the luscious lips brutally. It was not a tender kiss, just as he’d intended, and he wanted to humiliate her for what she had done to him and was still doing to him.

He kissed her with his lips, holding her close with one hand and stroking her buttocks with the other, and she was moaning softly, her warm body arching against his hand, and she was returning his kisses. Suddenly, he released her abruptly and she nearly fell, but his free hand shot out and steadied her.

‘You see?’ he asked, smiling victoriously. ‘You are easily aroused by a touch, and I can almost swear that it makes you a whore. But then, you belong to me, my dear little girl, and nothing you do will make me give you up. You are my property, and anything that belongs to me, I keep. You may be separated from me, but you’re mine, and not even a divorce will change that fact. If you dare think that you’ll be free of me, then you’d better rethink your stance when I tell you about the race of incestuous pigs you descended from.’

Adamma had been crying softly with shame and a sense of anger at herself for losing control the way she did; she’d responded to her husband when she should have slapped his face. Her head jerked up with wonder and annoyance at the prospect that her husband was blackmailing her once again, and her eyes narrowed with fury as the data he’d just released flooded into her mind.

‘What did you say?’ she asked in a cracked voice. ‘You’re lying! You do not know me or where I’d come from! You are lying!’

Obi laughed, and he knew that this time, he was going to put her firmly to heel. He said smugly, ‘I am not lying to you, my dear girl. My mother, who knew more about your family than you ever did, told me all I wanted to know about you. She told me the story about your parents.’

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‘You are truly mad.’ Adamma’s face reflected uncertainty as she drew back to look at her husband. Her look turned into a glare, and she realized that she could come to develop intense hatred for him. ‘Yeah, you’re right about them and the fact that there were ties between them. But the only tie between them was the fact that they were bound together by the ties of marriage between their parents_ and the man was not even the biological father of my father; he was an adopted son. I know that story, my dear, and my parents are dead, so there’s nothing you can do with the story your mother had told you. Your blackmail won’t work.’

Obi’s brows knitted together and his lips parted in a smile. It was true that what he had about his wife would be laughed out by any right-thinking member of the society, but he knew that she wouldn’t want that story to come out. ‘My blackmail will definitely work on you, my dear girl. Think about how the press enjoys twisting stories around so that there are elements of scandal in them.’

‘What do you want from me?’ Adamma asked tightly, her fingers balling into fists. She was glaring at him with a look akin to hatred in her luminous eyes, and he knew that she was brimming with fury against him. But he had to lay his cards down on the table.

‘Very simple, my dear,’ he replied. ‘I want you back into my arms and into my house because you belong to me and your place is at my side. Did I make myself clear?’

Shocked at her husband’s manipulation of her once again, she nodded, but she knew that she was not ready to go back to his house. She said, ‘Yes, I heard you.’ And then she turned around and walked away, her back straight with anger.

Obi watched her go, and then he sank into his seat and his mind was awash with an unstoppable avalanche of thoughts and memories that all centered around Adamma. It was like a snow storm lashing out with fury at the walls of his mind. There was no controlling it, no stopping it. The images came, sharp, 170

vivid, flashing through his mind like a meteor, and then disappearing into the inner store of memories that was locked up in his subconscious mind.

He remembered anew how she radiated energy and her hair swirled around her face with every step she took. And then, there was her soft, swaying walk that brought all her femininity to the fore; there was a confidence in the way she held herself, and there was a mystery that surrounded her like a cloud which was the magnetic force that drew him to her and had him going back for her even after all they’d meted out to each other. She had cruelly tortured him with her body, and now, to crown it all, she’d driven him to the point of exhaustion and obsession so he was incapable of making rational decisions.

She was the first woman who hadn’t been smitten with his good looks and his charm; she was the only woman who had dared to smolder him with her anger and her derision, ridiculing his wealth and his masculinity as if they were nothing. She was the first woman whom he believed fitted perfectly into his body and completed him_ the press had yapped on the fact they were magnificent together. And he knew that he would never let her go.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Obi paused before the door to his mother’s room, hesitant to invade the plush interior. Then, summoning his will, he knocked on the door, turned the knob gently, and then he walked into the room.

The tall, upright figure who was seated in a chair before the stained glass windows was staring at him warily through kohl-darkened eyes, her lips compressed in a grim line. Hope’s hair hung loosely around her slender shoulders, and she’d crossed one long limb over the other, the skin fair against the black sheen of her nightgown.

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‘Adamma visited you a week ago, didn’t she,’ she said, and her words were a statement and not a question. She’d travelled down to the country to visit her relations, so she’d not been able to confront him with her words until now.

Obi regarded the tall woman languidly. ‘You were the reason why my wife pounded her way down to my hotel and tried to bring the entire structure down with her anger; you sent her those derogatory pictures that mirrored what she’d been.’

Anger flashed in the woman’s dark eyes. ‘I only wanted to remind the silly girl of her station in life; that was why I sent her those pictures. Now, I realize the insult that went with it and I should not have done it. What did you say to her?’

‘Nothing out of the ordinary,’ he replied quietly, shrugging indifferently.

He then folded his arms across his chest and waited, knowing that there would more.

Hope leaned forward in her chair, her eyes flashing with anger. ‘Nothing out of the ordinary?’ she echoed. ‘You said nothing?’ Her voice had risen in anger. ‘How could you be so stupid? Why did you choose to call her parents into your fight with her? You fool! You should have said nothing!’

‘Said nothing?’ A muscle in Obi’s face tensed but he stilled it. ‘The silly girl was making an exhibition of herself, and I also could not just let her slip away from my arms. Besides that, there was nothing I said to her that she didn’t know already. I merely told her what she’d known all her life.’

Hope opened her mouth to say something scathing, but she thought better of it and leaned back into her chair. She said, ‘Every man and woman is responsible for his or her actions. If a man were to decide to bring up a part of you that you wanted to remain buried, what would you do to that person? What would your reaction be?’

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Obi’s brows knitted as he contemplated what answer to proffer to his mother’s question. ‘Look for ways to get rid of the bastard, I guess,’ he finally said after a lengthy pause.

‘Isn’t that what that woman should be doing to you? Looking for ways to get rid of you? Look here, son; I had thought that I hated Adamma, but then I cannot punish her for what her parents and I went through with each other. That girl deserves some kindness after all she’d been through. Even now, I blame myself for being so harsh on her, but I had been so filled with shock and anger at her for what I’d found out, that when she was crying, asking me to understand her plight and the horrid decisions she’d had to make in her life, I was only too willing to see her go. Now, son, I’m asking you to look for ways to get her back into your life and into your heart. She is your wife, not your whore.’

Dazed and confused by the seemingly contradictory actions of his mother and this new side of her which he was surprised existed, Obi contemplated on the most plausible course of action for him to take. Should he go to his wife and ask his wife to come back to him? If he ever went to her to grovel on his knees before her, then whatever respect she must have had for him would vanish. He had tasted a rebellious woman who could smile so easily when she chose to and then pout with fury when annoyed, a woman who was a sex goddess and knew how to please. She was a woman of strong will and steely determination; she’d branded herself to be his opponent and fight him till he crumbled with frustration. Her actions were telltale indications of the fact that she wanted to have nothing to do with him.

Smiling mischievously to himself because he intended to play her game with her, he said, ‘Don’t expect me to go and grovel in front of her; I won’t do it.’

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‘Then don’t, you fool,’ Hope said acidly. ‘You are just like your father; he was a fool who was a useless man; he treated me like an insignificant fish in a sea of many. Death was the only salvation he had, and so shall it be yours.’

‘Damn you, mother!’ Obi thundered, his fingers jabbing at the air for emphasis. ‘Damn you and damn your conspiring soul! My father was a good man who loved you more than anything else in the world.’

Hope’s lips twisted into a snare as she stood up and faced her son squarely, her eyes boring into his. ‘Loved?’ she scoffed. ‘Did you just say that he loved me? No. Your father never loved me like you claim he did; he merely used me to acquire the son he needed so much. But then, you were right; he did love me in his own twisted way. I was never the top priority in his life, and when he died, it meant that I was free of him. Do you want Adamma to have such feelings?’

Obi grabbed her cheeks and looked into the cold eyes that were glaring at him as he trembled with indignation at her callous words of condemnation over his father’s memory. Could she really be so beastly?

‘You are a cruel woman, mother,’ he said. ‘You might even be worse than that woman I got married to. You’re as cruel as she is.’

Hope’s hand flew across his face in a slap that was delivered with all the strength her outraged body could muster. ‘How dare you say such things to me?’ she snapped in a deadly voice that was loaded with venom. ‘And how dare you act like a stupid child? You say that I’m cruel and that your wife is cruel too, but you are the despicable one!’ She pulled away from his grip and her eyes were loaded with contempt. ‘You accuse your wife of being cruel, but she isn’t; she loves you too much to be cruel to you. She loves you so much, it hurts.’

Obi stepped back, shocked at the intensity of Hope’s words. ‘What?’ he said, shaking his head in wonder? ‘Did you just say that my wife loves me? And why didn’t she profess that love to me? Why has she thwarted all my efforts to get her beck into my life?’

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Hope waved impatiently in annoyance. ‘No woman in her right mind will dare to tell a man who treats her in such an off-handed manner, that she loves him. Go back to your wife, and if you cannot make her come back to you because you’re too much of a coward to tell her what you truly feel for her, and then I suggest you let her go her separate way. It means that you do not deserve her. Do something for her that will show her how much you love her, and if you can’t, or prove to be too hot-headed and arrogant to do so, then I hope she kills you.’ She pointed towards the door. ‘Now get out of here.’

The stony look on his mother’s face nearly twisted his heart as he left the room, his mind reeling from what she’d told him. Did his wife really love him?

If so, why hadn’t she told him? And why was his mother choosing this particular moment to tell him of her love?

No . . .

He did not believe it at all. He remembered Adamma’s stony face and the look of sheer anger she’d bestowed upon him. Was that love? No, he didn’t think so.

ADAMMA WENT TO THE DOROTHY swift house for the Music Awards like so many other musicians. They were all hoping to win something for their contributions to the industry, but she’d not been interested in any of the activities that were going on around her; she’d only gone there because an invitation had been sent to her and it would be an unpardonable breach of etiquette if she had refused to attend. It was true that she’d turned out in a fashionable gown like the other well-scented, sculpted women who were there to be ogled by the men who had turned out in attendance, but she was not interested in what was being done there.

The throng of security guards and paparazzi who were there to maintain law and order was great, and the celebrity women and men, even more so.

There was great chatter and excitement, and it was at that moment that Adamma 175

saw Della, the woman she’d easily bested at the Hilton club. The noxious woman was dressed in a blue gown that hugged her carefully-preserved figure like a second skin, revealing an unholy amount of cleavage at one end and a great deal of long legs at the other end; expensive diamond earrings hung on her lobes, and even more dripped from her throat, encircling it like a ribbon of white fire. Her long hair extension was swept back from her face, and Adamma felt her stomach roil with distaste; she turned away so that the horrible woman would not see her. But it was already too late.

‘Well, if it isn’t the glamorous woman who has been the main dish on TV,’ Della drawled, and Adamma had to stop and wait for the woman to catch up with her.

Adamma forced a frosty smile at the woman who emitted sensuality and radiated elegance from every pore. ‘Hi, Della,’ she managed to say as she flashed a smile at a man she’d known briefly when she was still new in the industry. ‘You came here.’

Della smiled with smug arrogance. ‘Yes, I came. But that’s not why I called you. I’m so glad that you’re now estranged with your rich, handsome husband. I know that must be bad news for you. But it’s good news for me because now, I have a chance to win him for myself. Isn’t it great; how one person’s bad news will turn out to be the good news of another?’

Adamma looked at her contemptuously, revulsion coursing through her.

‘You’ll never belong to Obi,’ she said, and she meant it. ‘He despises women like you and he can never feel comfortable having you fawning all over him.’

And it was true; her husband would never really be comfortable with this woman, with her cloud of expensive perfumes, her acrylic nails which were so long, Adamma wondered if she could do anything for herself; her long, false eyelashes; her exaggerated femininity. Then she turned away from the reprehensible creature.

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That night, she won the Best Female Dancer award for her exotic belle dancing in her music video, Be Me If You Can, but she wasn’t really in the right frame of mind to celebrate, so that when she got home, she dived straight into her bed after she’d relieved the sitter she’d hired to take care of the kids.

Early the next morning, when it was still dark, she got up from her bed, dressed up in white running pants and a tank top, with white tennis shoes. Her hair was pulled back from her face in a ponytail, and, as the red disk of the sun was still trying to rise above the horizon, she ran. She lived on Victoria Island and so had access to the beach. She ran faster and faster along the coastline, staying on the wet sand as the cold water of the ocean washed over her feet. She had to clear her head. She could not allow Della and her husband to beat her at the game they were playing. She had worked too hard and too long. And he would destroy her if she was not careful. But now he was still toying with her, using everything he could find about her to torment her senses and make her feel less than human. And then he might possibly destroy her if she allowed him to do so; he could make her go crazy with his relentless torture of her mind and her psyche.

She thought of Obi: she had the feeling that the man was crazy, and there was nothing that crazy people would not do, no length they would not go to in order to achieve their aims. Her eyes filled with tears but she pressed on with grim determination along the beach, the cold water from the sea slapping against her body. She managed to swallow past the lump that rose in her throat, and then she forced a smile to her lips, a crooked, wry smile as she remembered how she’d thought that everything was possible . . . love was possible. She was loved and admired by so many people, so adored, but so what? She felt more empty now than she’d ever felt when she was still a whore, struggling for survival. Sometimes, when she passed an ordinary woman and her husband and kids who loved her very much, she felt such longing in her heart; she wished that her life with Obi would be the same.

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She’d been running hard for forty minutes, and now she felt completely out of breath. She stopped, and then she closed her eyes as the cold water washed over her feet and the breeze caressed her skin. She savored the coolness and serenity of the beach and welcomed the feel of the water on her feet.

This is a good feeling, she thought; it was a taste of what it felt like to be free from sorrow and the disappointments of everyday living. But she was not free, she reminded herself as the waves tumbled backwards into the sea. She was a slave of her past and a prey to her husband’s arrogance and authoritarian ways.

Whore . . .

The arrogant devil wanted her to come back into his arms for more nights of heated sex and flaming passion between them, and she knew that she had no choice but to obey him. She had to succumb to Fate’s manipulation of her life once again, and what choice did she have? What could she do to be able to avert the disaster that was planted in her way? And she knew that she had to make a plan and try to stick to it_ her salvation lay in her hands.

The sea rushed towards her once again as she stood there, and she saw an object floating on the waves. The waves broke and the water surged forward, tumbling a rusted knife up the beach, depositing it on her feet as if was some peace offering which the sea was giving to her to compensate for the chaos in her life.

She gazed down at the knife, her eyes absorbing every detail of it. And then she felt ideas tumbling into her mind as she thought of what the object could be used for. She bent forward and picked up the object, cradling it in her arm as thoughts churned in her mind. This is a weapon of elimination, one used to cut down animals that are either too helpless or too destructive for their own good.

Animals . . .

Obi . . .

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In her mind, she considered him to be an animal, one with no sense of morality and an unwavering urge to dominate and manipulate her into submission to his dictates. First, he’d forced her to marry him, and then he’d treated with a ruthlessness that had made her want to kill him. He was the perfect model for the enemy of womanhood.

The knife . . .

Adamma fixed her eyes on the object once again, a frown creasing her brows. Where was the idea that was floating around her mind, hovering around the edges of her consciousness, beckoning to her? What did she want to do?

What did she wish for?

Out of nowhere, like a flash of lightning on a black night, she had the insight to what she wanted to do. She really loved Obi, more than she’d ever loved another man_ she’d never loved any man, except perhaps for Dan who had been so kind to her. She wanted and desired him more than she’d ever desired or wanted another man, and her love for him for him which he’d not reciprocated, had made her mad with fury. That was why she’d left when Hope had ordered her to leave; if she hadn’t come to that realization, she would never have left. Her husband ridiculed her and wanted no other man to look at her, but yet, he had not made her feel special. Now, since she couldn’t have him to herself, and he wouldn’t want another man to touch her bit yet he refused to make her feel special, she was going to kill him.

She summoned a smile that was devoid of the habitual warmth she often displayed; it lighted her face up with vivid images of what she could do to Obi. The man had bullied her; the Lord knew he had! But this time, by thinking that he could use her parentage and hold her to him, he would pay for it. He had crossed the bounds, and so he would pay for it.

The sun had already rose fully by the time she ran back home. She walked straight into her room, her head clear, and her hands were steady. She reached for her nearest phone and then speed-dialed Amanda.

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‘Amanda,’ she said quietly when her friend answered the call. ‘There is something I’d like to tell you; guess what.’ But she was too impatient to let Amanda say anything. She continued. ‘I am going to punish Obi for what he’s been doing to me because I am sick and tired of him and everything he stands for. He calls me a whore_ can you imagine that?’

‘Ada, no, you cannot do this! You cannot resort to doing anything so stupid simply because of your ego. I can’t believe you’re saying this. He is your husband!’

Adamma smiled to herself. If only her friend knew what she was thinking of doing? Then the woman would really run for dear life. ‘The man is blackmailing me,’ she blurted out. ‘He wants to ruin me, so I’ll strike first, and then he’ll rot in hell before he finally destroys me. I have had enough of him, and I want my freedom. He is holding the key to my past, and so, he has to go.’

‘No!’ ‘Yes, my dear friend,’ Adamma rasped coldly. ‘You’re as aware as I am of the fact that he’s a man without scruples. And please do not try to warn him, because you have absolutely no idea of what is going to happen to him.’

‘Are you threatening me?’ Amanda asked, and the ring of incredulity in her voice was obvious.

Adamma laughed, though the sound came out harshly. ‘No, my dear, I wasn’t threatening you; I’m just warning you. Just bear it in mind that he’s a dead man to me. I’ll make sure of that.’

And then she hung up and stood there, sweat trickling down her armpits in rivulets. Tears misted her eyes, and then they dropped down her cheeks.

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CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Obi walked up the four flights of the spiral staircase that led up to the room Adamma had insisted they hired for their rendezvous when he’d called her and demanded that he wanted to see her. He’d been surprised that she’d called him when he got her secretary on the line and told the young woman to tell her mistress to call him. He’d told her he wanted to see her, and she’d agreed, though she’d refused to come to their mansion or allow him to come to her house; she wanted somewhere impersonal. And so they’d agreed to meet at the Bee motel at the Lagos Island late that afternoon.

The entire place was spotlessly clean, though there was an empty look to it that gave the building an atmosphere of serenity. Circling the flight of stairs, he stopped and then stared for a minute at the mahogany door that led into the room where Adamma waited for him. He sniffed the air tentatively and her scent filled the air. It was a pleasant, sensuous smell that permeated his senses and made them reel, and his mind conjured up imaged of his wife lying on a bed, pandering to his every wish, his physical desires. He could hardly wait. He had missed her touch and her kisses so much; now, he was like a starving man who was about to be served the most sumptuous meal he’d ever tasted before.

He knocked on the door, and then he jerked the door open and walked into the room which was dimly-lit; even the curtains had been pulled shut.

Surprisingly, the room was lavishly furnished, with flowers reclining in huge flowerpots, exotic wall paintings of men and women engaged in the sexual act; there was a thick rug on the floor, spanning the entire length and breadth of the room; the bed was huge, and the covers were thick, screened off with curtains that were suspended from the ceiling. Pink velvet curtains hung over the windows, cutting out the afternoon sun, and the room was cool as opposed to 181

the smoldering heat of the afternoon sun. It was the perfect setting for a night of mind-blowing sex.

There was no sign of the object of his affections, but he knew that she was there; he had her heady feminine scent embedded within him. And then he saw her; she was lying on the bed, her face tilted at an angle so that she couldn’t see him though she presented him a view of her fine-boned profile.

She wore a thin, strapless gown that hugged the long length of her delectable body, accentuating her curves, the fullness of her breasts, and her glorious hair was spread on the bed. She looked lovely. She was so beautiful to him, but not because of the fact that she was the most beautiful woman around, but because of the fact that to him, she was. There was something about her that was dangerous to his senses, something that sent him over the edge with her.

With her, he lacked the cool control that had been his hallmark with the fairer sex.

Adamma feasted her eyes on the wall clock, though all she was able to see in the line of her vision was her husband. His face filled her vision and she could almost swear that she could hear his rich, velvet voice; she could hear his strong laugh. And then she was able to sense his nearness, yet she refrained from turning around to look at him. She couldn’t bear it. She couldn’t stare into the face and the eyes of the man she now wanted to think of killing; he’d haunt her forever.

For days she’d debated with herself, asking herself searching questions, procrastinating about something she’d already made up her mind to do, but finally she’d been able to make up her mind. She was freeing herself from the clutches of the man who treated her wrongly as if she did not deserve his love.

But she really did love him, and it was a factor that she would never regret as long as she lived.

Slowly, she swiveled her face around to face him. Her feet bare, pink material hugging the long length of her body, she was a vision of mesmerizing 182

beauty and perfection. She was aware of her power over the man who was staring at her with a look of unbridled desire on his face, and she couldn’t help smiling to herself. It had been said that the beauty of the body could be used as a big weapon_ how true that was.

She whispered, ‘So you came to me like I’d asked you to. However, I’d for you to satisfy my curiosity. Do you love me?’

‘I desire you more than anything I’ve ever desired in my whole life. You really are a very stunning woman to behold. You’re far from perfect, but you’re extremely wonderful.’

She looked at him, her eyes drinking in the sculpted features, his male handsomeness that always sent her heart thumping with desire whenever she looked at him. It frightened her that she could feel such loaded emotions and strong pull of desire for him in spite of the fact that he was arrogant. He was the super bastard of the screens, loved by every woman who had the eyes to look at that expanse of sleek muscle and aggressively defined face that had a lot of character.

Smiling invitingly, she beckoned to him to come to her; this was not the time for small talk. She pressed her lips to his in a kiss, and she savored the delicious sensation of the taste of his lips against hers. Her fingers reached for the buttons on his flannel shirt; she unbuttoned them even as she continued to kiss him, and then she slid the material off his shoulders and tossed it to the rug.

Her fingers then slid up his chest in a gentle caress, and then her fingers slid down, resting on his belt.

He stopped her with a shake of his head, and then he tilted her chin up so she could look into his face. What he saw in her luminous eyes was burgeoning desire, and he sought her lips with his once more, his hands reaching out to her back so he could zip down the dark flimsy nothing thing she was wearing. He slid the offending material down to her waist, his breaths catching in his throat as her breasts swung free. Desire hammered at him as he feasted his eyes on her 183

dark nipples which were already hardening with desire, and then his lips sought them and she rubbed against him, her gentle moans bringing his desire to a higher level.

Slowly, he stole the gown from her body slowly, reverently, and then he pulled her lace panties down so he could gain access to her womanly zone, and his eyes fell on the downward triangle that hid damp heat from his gaze. His fingers moved from her breasts, and then slid gently down, over her flat stomach, gliding lower to the triangle of dark hair that hid the real thing from his view. He moved up again, and he sucked in her left nipple into his mouth while his strong arms held her down. She writhed about as he continued to suck on the hard nipple, and felt herself go totally limp with heady waves of pleasure as his left hand moved up from her hips and began to circle her other breast.

His relentless torture of her swollen breast continued, and when she felt she would faint from the intensity of the pleasure that sizzled through her, he moved on lower with his hard, sure kisses. His lips dipped down to her navel, and then he swung his head lower to her waist. He touched one finger to her soft, feminine mound of heat that was the very essence of her, and she reared up as if she’d been pricked with a needle. ‘Stay down,’ he ordered, and there was a wicked glint in his eyes as his eyes fell on the triangle of hair that hid damp heat from his eyes. Setting himself to work, he bent forward, and his lips touched the hair. The unmistakable scent of her feminine heat went to his senses, and he felt himself getting even harder than he already was.

Adamma gasped and tears rushed to her eyes, but before she could recover, her back burrowed into the mattress as he thrust her legs up and his fingers stroked her organ. He rubbed his fingers against her and she cried out his name, her fingers savagely gripping the bedcovers. He continued rubbing his fingers on her wet womanhood, and she grew more damp, his fingers slowly and

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deliberately massaging her clitoris when he found it, sending waves of heady pleasure to rip through her body.

This was great torture that he was heaping on her most erogenous zone, and she did not want him to stop what he was doing. God, it had been so long since she last had him.

Seeing how turned on she was, Obi then slipped two fingers into her and began to move them in and out, pleasuring her with his fingers. He could see the tears that clouded her vision; he could hear the cries that emanated from her, and he continued to work on her, his fingers moving in and out as he pleasured her and she moaned and called his name, the sounds like a caress to his ears. He loved it when she called his name like this, with reckless abandon.

That was what he wanted her to be with him_ the wanton woman with no inhibitions at all, freed from her mask of coolness and friendly detachment.

Adamma’s hips were moving of their own volition, in tune with the movements of the fingers of the man she loved. She moved with his fingers, and then he withdrew them and then swooped down on her damp heat with his tongue. He was licking at her, sucking at her hungrily. He sucked on her as if he was licking ice cream, worshipping her with his tongue.

She had gripped his head tightly, her lips moaning out his name as he continued to torture her senses. However, she didn’t want to peak just yet, so she pulled his head free of her body and pushed him down on his back to the bed. But he rose to his feet and then pulled down his trousers, and then his white boxer shorts were eased down savagely from his hips, and his cock tumbled out.

His body was hard and firm from physical exercises, and his cock was encircled by a nest of dark hair that started from his chest, narrowing down to his stomach, and then covering his pubic region. The huge cock stood erect, throbbing with a life of its own.

Ah, how she had missed that.

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‘Oh, baby,’ Adamma whispered, her fingers reaching out to caress the organ. She got out of the bed and he followed her, and then she dropped to her knees, her fingers encircling the cock. She stroked him slowly, and her arm spanked him hard on the buttocks. Before he could react, she took him in her mouth, her tongue licking at the head of the swollen cock.

Ah, how she loved it when he clenched his buttocks like that, like someone in pain.

She began to suck on him, her fingers massaging his balls, reaching behind to touch his buttocks which were firm and clenched, and even though he was stupendously rich, a man that controlled an empire, he was reduced to putty in her hands. When she felt almost certain he was reaching his peak, she pulled away from him and then lay down on the floor, her fingers beckoning to him to come and enter.

As he stood over her, Obi thought to himself that she looked very beautiful, and then he bent forward, his long body bending over hers. He positioned himself atop her, and then he guided his manhood into her. He moved in slowly, her hot heat sucking him in, and she kissed him on his lips as he drove in deeper, till her womanhood had accommodated all of him. They kissed as he began to drive himself into her, and she wrapped her long legs around his waist, their fingers exploring each other’s bodies; his fingers were fondling her breasts, and she was moaning his name.

‘Fuck me hard, baby,’ she whispered into his ear.

She clenched her legs tighter, squeezing him into her more tightly. She wanted to feel him more than she had ever felt him before, for this was different.

She was having sex with the man she loved, twisted he may be.

And then he began his sexual dance, his tumescent penis moving in and out of her slowly, his hips controlling the tempo of his thrusts, his lips locked to hers in a deep kiss. His eyes were fixed unblinkingly on her face so he could watch the pleasure as they danced across her face. He moved harder and she 186

moved with him, and he became aware that she was reaching the peak of her pleasure. He pounded her hard, and they rode on the chariot of passion till they reached the top of their pleasure, and then they exploded together. His semen shot into her in a stream as he squeezed his eyes shut and cried out her name.

They lay there on the floor entwined in each other’s arms, and then he fucked her again, and this time, she was on top, her body squeezing down on his, her hands pressed against her breasts, her hips moving up and down as she rode him expertly, and this time, when they exploded into orgasm, she stayed on top of him for a few moments before she lay down beside him.

‘You were great, do you know that?’ Obi asked her, but she planted a wet kiss on his face and said nothing.

ADAMMA BRUSHED DOWN HER HAIR WITH a brush, and then she quickly slipped into a black, floor-length gown she’d brought with her. Her hair was still damp from her shower, and she was strongly aware of the fact that Obi was still feasting his eyes on her. She took a deep breath, and then she turned round to face him. He was still eating her up with his eyes, unaware that she’d slated this to be their last confrontation with each other. Her fingers were trembling, and she was already feeling the onslaught of an attack of headache.

She’d made a second resolution; if he was willing to let her go and stopped dredging up her past life as his instrument of blackmail, or if he was at least willing to come to an agreement with her, then there would be no need for her to do away with him. But if he still chose to continue to be adamant and uncompromising about his stance on what she was in his life, she’d . . . she shuddered as what she’d do momentarily flitted through her mind. It was unthinkable.

She was going to throw him out of her life.

Obi grinned at her lazily. He said, ‘You’re a great woman, do you know that? I couldn’t have wished for something better than what we shared just now.

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Just say the word, and I’ll have you back here on the bed with me where I’ll rip off your clothes with my teeth and then take you all night long.’

Adamma smiled sadly. ‘Such a pity, but I don’t want to say the word. What I want is a man who’ll care for me and make me and make me feel as if I’m the only girl in the world. You really could love me if you want to.’

‘But just having plain sex with you is also good, yes? You’ve totally bewitched me and I can barely think straight whenever I’m with you.’

‘I am still your wife!’ Adamma said, though she was barely able to keep the anger and panic out of her voice; she’d balled her fists to refrain from lashing out at him. ‘You can choose to be nice to me and very tender. You could choose to stop blackmailing me!’

Obi laughed, and then he patted the fourth finger on his left hand. ‘We’ve been through this a long time ago. You are my wife, but you made sure it was only in name and not in the real sense of the word; you made that clear when you walked out on me and ensured I had no more access to you. Now, what’s that smell? Food? Please serve me; I’m terribly famished and need to eat, so serve me, will you?’

Adamma’s lips were compressed in a grim line as she turned towards the table that had been laden with food, her eyes blazing with fury, her fingers balled into white-knuckled fists. She stood before the table and then she began to dish out the food into two ceramic plates. She stopped and poured some whiskey from a decanter into a glass and then she gulped the spirit down so she could steady her nerves which were aflutter with emotions. She poured another into the glass and turned to her husband, a smile playing at the corners of her lips.

She asked him, ‘Honey, do you know what true love means?’

He frowned, and he looked very handsome as he lay there completely naked as the day he was born, doing nothing to cover his nudity. ‘No, I don’t know. Or maybe I think I do. It could mean when a man finds an adorable 188

woman who is far from perfect but who fits in perfectly in his arms and in his body, and then he spends all the time in the world thinking about her and making love to her. It is quite a combination, yes?’

She nodded. ‘It is one of the elements of love but true love entails a lot of sacrifice for that person you love and care about. You could choose to sacrifice that heady pleasure you’re addicted to for the sake of that person. Can you do that? Can you be able to look past the horizon of your pleasure and then consider the welfare of the other party . . .’ of me?

She wanted to add the silent question though she kept mute because she was afraid he’d latch on to what she was thinking and discover what she felt for him, and then what would be her fate? ‘I don’t think you can do that. Here, have this.’ She let out a sigh and then thrust the glass into his arm. ‘Drink up. You’ll need your strength for everything that’s coming to you. And you’ll never expect it.’

Yeah, right. The papers_ the processes_ had already been emailed to her by her lawyer and they sat now in a folder on her hard drive, with the man waiting for her to give the word and then he’d pounce.

He drained the contents of the glass in one gulp and then he lay back on the covers as she began to dish out the food. She filled a plate with fried rice, and then she served him hot coffee and vegetable soup; slices of bread with margarine smeared lavishly on them; there was a basket of fruits, and then orange juice. As she served him, she frowned severely, feeling a strong attack of headache pounding on her head as a myriad of questions swept through her mind.

Was she doing the right thing? Was this the best that she could think of doing? Oh God, had she emailed her lawyer with any instructions?

She felt the panic rise within her but she tried to still it before she keeled over from the onslaught of headache.

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When he was eating the food, she sat down on the stool and watched him, and then he finished and went out to the balcony. She joined Obi on the balcony and they looked out at the street.

She seemed to be reading his mind. Today they’d held each other like they used to do, and they’d made love. But he did not trust her; he seemed to be afraid of her beauty; it was too much for him to trust. She was thoughtful as she said, ‘I’m leaving now. I have to go and prepare myself for the Dunn Charity Dinner. I know you’ll be there, and there it’ll end. I am really sorry, my dear, but you’d left me with no choice.’ She kissed him on the forehead as if he was still a baby.

She was going to send her lawyer the instructions to start with the processes right away. The terms of settlement had been drafted already, and she’d be walking away with a lot of money from him when the time came. She had already printed a copy of it for herself, and the problem now, she knew, would be how she could get him to sign the terms of it. She needed his signature.

Turning around, her earrings jingling with every step she took, she walked to the door in slow, measured steps. And then she was out of the room, her feet hurrying down the spiral staircase as she created a distance between herself and her husband. She loved him, but she didn’t want to see him again, not after his mindless degradation of her mind. To him, she was always a whore and not a wife to be cherished for the joy she could provide in his life, a cheap girl who’d somehow manipulated her way into the glittering world of music with her body, and then, into his life. To him, she was a gutter-bred animal, a nobody; she could almost see it in his eyes and hear him saying them out aloud.

She could still feel the loathing he felt for her, though he was a master at masking his emotions so well. She could swear that she could feel the anger he felt for her whenever he touched her, and the thoughts that had always swamped her mind were thoughts of her failure as a wife to him. But had she really been

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his wife? No, she’d been his wedded whore, though she was cloaked in limelight and stardom and personal achievement_ it was an added bonus for him.

However, whatever he thought of her no longer mattered in any way; they were now of no importance to her because she felt resolute that everything would end as from that night. It was not her fault that she’d found her way into the brothels at such a young age, becoming a dancing flame who ignited the lust of men through her dancing and her singing.

It was the beginning of the end for them.

As she unlocked her car door, she looked up at the motel room, and she saw Obi standing at the window of the room, staring down at her. He was such a handsome man, filled with arrogance and a sex appeal that made women yearn for his touch, she thought drily to herself. It was too bad that their marriage was never meant to be, too bad that he was the very antithesis of what any rightthinking woman would want in a life partner.

And then she got into her car and drove away from the parking lot, watched by her husband.

He then turned back into the room, a frown creasing his brows. There had been something about her there, right before she had gotten into that car and driven away, something that had really gotten to him and trapped him as he stood there watching her, and then she’d gotten into that car and had driven away and the spell had been broken. He tried to picture her living away from him, away from his clutches when he wanted her affections, and an involuntary shudder rippled through him.

He could not tell if what he felt for her was lust, or anger, or loathing, or even love, or all of the above rolled into one package. But the main truth was that she was a piece of flesh that had gotten her face embedded deeply into his mind and into his consciousness, and he could never get rid of her. It was like having something that has formed a core part of you and there is nothing that you can do to dislodge that.

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How and why had she been able to breach the gap that had kept his heart firmly protected against the other women that had all tried, at one point in time or the other, to worm their ways into his heart but had failed woefully to do so.

He pictured her, this epitome of beauty who could keep am audience enchanted with her smiles for several hours while she always froze him out with her cold and aloof attitude which she always tried to put on just to show that she was a strong-willed, independent woman who had no time for him. And he smiled wryly to himself. This was the one woman he had ever truly wanted for himself, and by the heavens, he was going to have her to himself when the time was right for him to have her.

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CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The Igwe House was a lavish affair that was situated at the Victoria Garden City, a stunning piece of architecture that was the pride of the exclusive street where it was situated in the estate. It was filled to the brim with the crème of Lagos society who had chosen to converge on the house for the Charity Dinner and also to use that opportunity to flaunt their wealth and their sexy, toned wives, their flashy cars and their jewels. The men were all dressed in the usual black tuxedoes and the perfectly tailored pants that were so perfectly molded to their bodies there was no space left for them to put their car keys and their phones.

Obinna had come around thirty minutes before the scheduled time and now, he sat on the spacious terrace, a glass of beer in his hand, his eyes roving appreciatively over the crowd that were coming out through the parking lot to the grand double doors, each presenting their invitation cards and then flashing a smile for the waiting paparazzi who ecstatically clicked away on their cameras.

Obinna watched them with amused indifference, these women who were worth nothing at all except for their bodies and the delights they had to offer to their men in bed.

Suddenly, there was a flash of metallic black paint that glittered under the flood lights of the Igwe House as a car drew up speedily to the entrance with a scream of tires on the tarmac. It was a BMW coupe, and already, the security men were forming a solid ring around the car as the door slid open.

First, there was the flash of a long, bare leg, with the foot encased in high heels that would break the waist of any sane woman, straight from the showrooms of Manolo Blahnik, and then the other foot swung down from the car. The cameras were flashing, and the moment seemed to drag on almost indefinitely, and then the driver of the sports car alighted from it.

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Adamma was dressed in a shimmering black gown that clung to her luscious figure perfectly, with the lights bouncing off the silk material of the gown that she seemed almost to be crackling with reflected light. The dress was studded with rhinestones which glittered under the hard lights. Her natural black hair hung down to her naked shoulders in a simple, almost careless design, but it was obvious that every strand of the black hair had been meticulously patted into place just as she wanted it to be. Long earrings hung down from her lobes almost to her shoulders, and her face was very well made up, no doubt by she herself since she was a makeup artist; her dark brows arched up as she flashed a smile for the adoring men to guzzle; her lips had been drawn with a clear, longlasting lip gloss that accentuated them.

She was the epitome of beauty and femininity, something that they all desired but which was unattainable to them. And she was smiling at the gathered paparazzi with warmth, her face appearing magically beautiful and stunning. She looked so light, so stunning, so magical, so dazzling that she appeared ethereal to the men as they all stared at her and flashed the cameras at her face. And she did the poses for them, smiling and waving at them with real warmth in her eyes. ‘Well, I’ll be damned,’ a voice said behind Obinna, breaking his concentration from the scene below him to look at the voice that intruded on his thoughts.

It was Daniel, and he was as elegantly attired as he had been from the very first time that Obinna had encountered him when he was still battling with his wife for the truth about their relationship pertaining to their twin kids. The record magnate was dressed all in white, an almost ethereal contrast to the dark clothes that everyone else had on for the night. His moustache had been elegantly trimmed and waxed to perfection, and his gold Rolex watch sparkled like a beacon in the night.

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‘Your wife surely knows how to work crowds to her favor whenever she appears to do anything for the country,’ Daniel continued. ‘Or should I call her your ex-wife? But then, I heard that she’s your wife in name only and then nothing else. Makes for very nice night-time gossip, don’t you think? So, how have you been?’

Obinna said nothing, because he knew that whatever he said to the man would only serve as an item of ridicule to him. He looked down again, but the woman who had been there only moments before had vanished into the house.

He stood up and then offered a wan smile to the record magnate who was watching him warily, as if waiting for an opportunity to strike out at him.

He opened his mouth to speak, but at that moment, the scent of jasmine and lavender wafted into his nostrils, and he paused. He knew of only one woman who would douse herself in that scent and then be the very epitome of feminine allure. He turned, and there was Adamma walking towards them in a slow measured stride, as if she had all time in the world. Her high heels clicked on the tiled floors as she moved, and then the lights illuminated her fair face. And she was smiling, her eyes flashing out brilliantly and intelligently out from her face, and to her husband she looked as if she was taunting him with her beauty and the small power that she had to make him dance to her tunes ‘Hello, boys,’ she said, but her eyes were fixed on the stricken face of her husband as if there was a message for him in the depths of her luminous eyes.

Obinna felt that even war cannons packed more warmth than she did at that moment. ‘Dan, darling, you’re looking so cute.’

The cold, frozen eyes that were filled with ice swung towards Obinna.

‘Obi, how nice of you to come.’ Her left hand, with the long, French-manicured nails that had raked over his skin many a time in the bedroom, trailed down the front of her cleavage as she pretended to adjust a non-existent button, showing off the huge fullness of her most prized assets as she smiled at Obinna viciously.

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Dan flushed and excused himself to run inside the house and away from the bag of sexual temptation. Obinna hardly noticed the inconsequential man go in.

He was breathing really hard, and it was as much from a growing sense of arousal and anger at this woman for what she was doing to him without even so much as lifting a finger to do it. He sneaked out one long hand and drew her to him before she could move, and then he held her firmly in place as he looked right into those eyes that had trapped him . . . forever.

‘I could really kill you, whore, do you know that?’ he demanded harshly as he fumed his hot breath into her lovely face. But instead of feeling threatened by his invasion of her space, the woman just plain laughed into his face as if she had no care in the whole world. That infuriated him the more and he shook her fiercely. ‘Why do you choose to do this to me? Who the hell do you think you are?’

Adamma had stopped her laughter just as abruptly as she had started, and her luminous eyes blazed out at him with a heat of sheer fury that made him release her as if she was on fire. She staggered back, but then she held herself almost immediately; her years of living hard and rough on the streets plus the hours of work on her form so she could dance well had paid off, leaving her a very strong woman.

‘I hate you!’ she hissed at him venomously. ‘Who do you think you are?’

And then she seemed to remember something and her anger fled so fast, there was no expression waiting to cover the ensuing blankness in her features.

‘Come now, my friend, no need for us to fight with each other. After all, I will be getting rid of you soon anyway, so no need to get overly bothered.’

For a fleeting moment, a troubled look came into her eyes which were like a mirror that showcased her every thought. It seemed that for once, the sure, hard woman who had been taunting and deriding him was gone, and in its place was an old woman who had a lot of problems weighing her down and driving her to the point of madness. It seemed that there were tears in her great eyes as 196

she stared at him, and at that moment Obinna felt a wave of protectiveness towards her.

She looked really . . . sad.

‘Adamma, tell me what’s wrong with you,’ he pleaded, his fingers reaching out for her. But she jumped away from him as if he’d threatened her with a burning brand, ready to scald her perfect skin. ‘Adamma . . .’

‘No! It’s too late for that now!’ She looked greatly stricken, as if with grief and a toga of guilt that weighed her down. Then she spun round abruptly and walked away from him.

He was very puzzled by her uncharacteristic behavior, but he said nothing because there was quite nothing for him to say. He went into the grand room where the crème assemblage was waiting for the attractions of the night to begin.

He saw Della there among a throng of other women, some of them women from the stage who were known for their work in the theatre. There was a pantomime scheduled for the night, and Obinna could see the lead lady, talking with Della in a low voice, as if the words were a great conspiracy that was meant only for her ears.

Adamma was firmly ensconced in-between the Minister for Education and a burly businessman who was well-known for his string of liaisons with women of the TV. She looked as if she was having the time of her life, and gone was the insecure woman who had looked ready to swoon only moments ago, and it was obvious that whatever that had been troubling her had fled from her.

There was an announcement about the beginning of the pantomime which would serve as the opening piece of the night before they got down to their dinner proper. The lights were dimmed, and on the stage, came on a tall, statuesque young woman who was very heavily made up and scantily dressed in a red gown that hugged her so tightly it appeared almost painted on her. Her hair was dark, and swept against her naked shoulders, and there were many actors on the stage with her, watching her.

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‘There’s something vaguely familiar about that stage and the woman, but I can’t quite place it yet,’ Dan said from beside Obinna, and the latter could see that the record magnate was frowning in concentration, obviously wracking his brain for the answer to the puzzle.

Obinna could feel his fingers clenching at his sides as recollection flooded through him. He turned his head to where his headstrong wife was seated, and there she was, her profile dim to his view because of the dimmed lights, but he could have sworn that she was looking right at him and flashing a triumphant smile to him.

‘I know why you can’t yet place the scene that’s playing out right before you,’ Obinna said tightly. ‘You would never for once think that you’d met her there, would you? That’s her club scene that you’re looking at.’

And it was. The arrangement of the tables and the stools on the stage, the men who were all staring at the temptress who had come there to lure them all to sin and the red dress . . . oh God in heaven, the red dress. His wife really wanted him to suffer. The play that was playing out right in front of his eyes was the scene of the day when he’d first encountered her and fallen prey to her beguiling smiles, and she’d trapped him . . . forever.

The woman on the stage was perfectly miming the part where Adamma had been looking around, as though she’d been lost, and then the young actress stopped on her feet with amazing energy. Her eyes flashed from her fair face like that of some feral animal that was hunting for its prey. The audience held its breath; they’d all been caught up in the whirl of the crazy sex dance that they were being forced to watch. The actress must have been tutored very well, for she looked around right into the audience, her eyes searching for something, while the men on the stage with her who were all watching her with exaggerated lewdness, were all wordlessly clamoring for her to look at them all.

She didn’t. Her dark eyes searched through the dim faces of her enchanted audience, and then her eyes stopped right in front of Obinna. His heartbeat 198

skipped four beats, because he could have sworn that she was looking right at him with her piercing eyes that seemed to shred through the veil of time, past the darkness of several years, and stop right at the moment when Obinna had first encountered Adamma.

She pointed, and her fingers were pointed right at his chest even through the bodies that separated them. It was as if she had chosen him. He looked at the direction where he knew his estranged wife was seated, but she was no longer there. He stood up, and that was because he felt a strange tightening in his chest and he needed to get some fresh air before he suffocated where he was in the dim theatre. He threaded his way down the long length of rug and emerged in the corridor that led to the men’s toilets.

That was when his blood ran cold, for he could hear the sound of a woman’s voice in distress, and it was a voice he’d know anywhere in the world.

With a savage oath, he charged his way into the nearest toilet and saw what made his blood freeze in his veins. A cold fury seized him, washing over him in a torrent as murderous rage swept over him like a tidal wave that overrode all sense of reason.

There was Adamma, standing shoved against the wall of the tiny compartment, the thin strap of the gown she was now wearing which was different from the one she’d arrived in torn away, her hair slightly askew as if she’d been in a struggle. A man that Obinna recognized as the useless, womanizing son of a political heavyweight, was leaning into her, his fetid breath that stank of stale beer puffing into her face, one powerful hand clamped over her throat in a vicious chokehold that had cold sweat breaking out all over Obinna as he beheld the sight.

‘You bastard!’ he roared as he came at the buffoon with his fists, yanking his wife from the bastard’s hand before the loser even knew what was happening to him. Adamma staggered and almost fell but caught herself, and Obinna nearly shoved her aside as he came at the creature with a right hook that 199

sent him sprawling to the toilet seat like a deflated balloon. He hit the guy again with all the strength he could muster, and then he could not stop himself.

‘How dare you bloody, stupid, idiotic mongrel dare to touch my wife?’

Obinna was screaming at the guy, punctuating each word with a heavy blow that would have flattened a rock. And then he shoved the guy away and the creature crumpled into a ball on the floor, blood flowing from a thin cut on the side of his mouth.

Obinna turned to his wife, and there she was, her face a mask of utter serenity and calm, her eyes like cold disks staring into his face, piercing into him like daggers. Then she smiled.

‘What do you think you’ve just done?’ she asked coolly. ‘Do you know what you’ve just done? You have beaten down an innocent man.’

Obinna had no idea when his mouth dropped open. ‘An innocent man,’ he echoed incredulously. He was rendered speechless when he looked into her face and saw that there was a cold smile of triumph on her lovely face. ‘But he was hurting you!’

‘No, he was not hurting me,’ she replied coldly. ‘We were rehearsing together, and what better way to do so than to pretend that we were really playing the part. You have beaten down an innocent man with your show of stupidity. Is that the way you show your chivalry?’

The hapless fellow on the floor moaned, and Obinna turned his attention to the young man who was really hurting his wife. Before he could say or do anything, his wife’s cold voice stopped him in his tracks.

‘Just go, Obinna,’ she told him, and there was this nothingness in her voice, this lack of emotion that frightened him half to death. She was the very epitome of cold and aloof indifference, a woman who was sure of the power she had and what could be done with it.

The way she had flicked her wrist showed him exactly what she thought of him. It was obvious that the sight of him sickened her with anger.

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Obinna had no choice but to go as she had instructed him to do, and there was nothing but the thoughts of her and the way she’d dismissed him in his mind. He was a man used to being wanted, and it always made him feel good, and there had never been any woman who had ever turned him down. Ever. He even took pride in the fact that even some kind of men found him attractive.

But his own wife, the one person he wanted more than anything else in this world, treated him like the loathsome carrier of some communicable disease.

When she came down again to the room to take to the dance floor with two actresses and a high fashion model, he found himself mesmerized with her just like he had been years ago when they had first met in that seedy club where she had hooked her long claws into him. She was all smiles, what with her stunning satin, rhinestone-studded dress which was magnificent on her and the way she was tossing her hair back and laughing with the abandon and gaiety of schoolgirl on her first date.

Like magnets, all were drawn to her even though she had taken to the floor and stood off to one corner. Like a siren she drew all that were there to her effortlessly, this bewitching woman with the natural dark hair, blazing eyes and that cold, icy confidence and frozen beauty that could halt the heart of any man under the age of ninety. There was something different about her there as she danced, her head thrown back, her eyes closed, her mind turned off to the things and person around her as if she was the only one in the place.

He stared and stared until she turned to him and their eyes locked together.

Those eyes, he thought; how they haunted him and made him lose his mind with longing. She smiled at him and blew him a kiss, and when he looked away, he was shocked at himself at the tears that clouded his vision.

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CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Obinna was seated on a chair in the balcony outside his room that overlooked the lawn, his BlackBerry in one hand, a glass of sherry in the other, his eyes looking out at the night. The screen was glowing as the network searched out the YouTube videos he had requested for. He looked down at the phone in his hand, and there were the most popular videos in the country displayed on the screen before him.

A small wave of emotion travelled through his spine when he saw that the number one video was captioned: Interview with Adamma about her separation with husband. He sighed, and then he clicked on the Enter button so he could stream the video. When the video started to play, he put down the glass of sherry and glued his eyes to the screen.

It was a ten-minute video, and there was Adamma, her face filling the screen as she smiled at the woman who was seated cross-legged with her in what looked to be a small parlor. The woman was a face he recognized as one of the most famous TV presenters in Nigeria.

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‘I know that you must be really busy, but I am quite glad that you’re here to talk to me,’ the petite screen dragon said in a low, soothing voice. ‘Now, how does it feel to have entered the doors of matrimony and decide to walk back out again?’

Adamma gave her a slow smile. ‘My dear, I never chose to leave the home of my husband; I was a victim of circumstance and that is all there is to it. We just had to be away from each other for a while because it seemed not to be working out anymore. So there.’

‘But you’ve been away from him for a while, and he’s known as one of the most eligible men around in the crème of Lagos society. What if another woman were to get him for herself?’

Adamma laughed heartily, and Obinna knew from his experiences with her that it was one of her pure laughs of enjoyment. ‘You see, what I must tell the woman is good luck. Believe me when I tell you that no other woman will ever be good enough for him. You may think that I’m boasting, but it’s far from that.

I was the only woman who was able to hold him, and the hold I had over him survived the years that we’d been away from each other. Like you know, he was unaware that he was the father of my kids and there was no way for him to have known that since I was the only one to be able to give him that particular news.

I know him too well, and no other woman can ever know him the way I do and be able to hold him down the way I do.’

Patricia smiled sweetly, apparently moving in for the kill. ‘But that’s not really what we’re here to discuss, is it? There are news flying around all over the internet about you, being spread by a woman who says she has inside news about you and your marriage, and also about what she says was your life before you were discovered. I hope I am not discomfiting you in any way?’

Adamma shook her head emphatically. ‘No, that’s not possible. I came here because I wanted to talk about this and put an end to what everyone calls rumors about me; let them know the real truth. Della_ for she’s the woman who 203

is responsible for this_ said that I was a whore, that I danced naked for money for the pleasure of men.’

‘Well, did you?’ the other woman asked gently.

Adamma looked up, and the camera zoomed into her face, lighting up her luminous eyes. ‘Yes, I did dance in a club for the pleasure of men who had the money to pay to watch me do my act.’

Obinna gasped, and only distinctly did he hear the sympathetic murmur that came from the mouth of Patricia as the beloved singer dropped the bombshell that nobody was supposed to know. How could she have done that?

Why? ‘I was a dancing girl who was driven to the clubs by the fact that she had no father or mother to help her through her teen years. Do you think it’s easy for a young girl to grow up without the love and the care of her parents? And yes, it was a huge secret that was kept under wraps so that the image I was building up for myself through my music would not be tarnished in any way. I had kids, yes, and it was in that club that I met my husband who was responsible for my pregnancy though he was ignorant of the fact at that time. I had to succeed in life, and if dancing half naked was what it took to be able to be able to take care of myself so that I could survive in the world, then so be it.

‘What you may not really understand is the fact that there are a lot of persons who have quite nothing and really have to suffer to make ends meet. I was a dancing little bitch for a group of men who had the money and the lewdness and the time it took to come and watch me do my act. Yes, there is nothing to be ashamed of; and that is not because of the fact that the work I did was so good and morally upright but the point I’m trying to make here is that I was never a thief. I stole from no one . . .’

The camera were once again at her face and there was a burning light in her eyes as she stared right into those lenses, and Obi felt as if her eyes were looking straight at him, burning straight into his soul, accusing him of what he’d 204

inadvertently done by unwittingly unleashing Della on her. And it was all because of the quest he had to dominate her and make her subservient to him.

And those eyes . . . God, those shocking eyes that were the embodiment of tragedy and sorrow, love and sensuality. How she was using it all to her advantage; the scandal was almost unavoidably going to render her as the most talked-about thing in the tabloids and the gossip spreads, and the album sales would roll in, the invitation to all the happening A-list parties would come flooding in like a dam.

I am sorry, Obi thought at the face of the woman who was speaking out from the screen of his phone. How could I have done this to you? You were mine and we could have had it all; why did you have to run away from me?

All of a sudden, he was yanked out of his reverie by the shrill ring of his Android phone which was reposing on the table before him. Angrily, he turned off the video and grabbed the offending phone without bothering to look at the caller ID. ‘Yes?’ he snapped.

The soft, stunned voice of his doll of a secretary floated out of the earpiece of the phone. He could almost smell her cloying perfume. ‘Sir, where are you?

The reporters are about to beat down the doors of the office and are demanding to see you because they all think you’re here now.’

‘What is it this time?’ he snapped impatiently.

‘Apparently, your attention-seeking soon-to-be ex-wife has gotten herself entangled once again in speculative gossip,’ the young woman sniffed, and the disapproval which was etched in her voice was unmistakable. ‘I hear that the woman has decided to get herself involved in some transnational charity and she’s looking for the patron who will give her work some credibility.

Apparently, the woman has named you.’

‘What did you just say? She did what?’

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‘I think you’d better call her yourself in order to find out what she’s been up to. Right now I have to fend off the calls from the persistent jackasses who are crawling right all over me right now.’ She disconnected the call.

The moment Obi put down the Blackberry on his other hand, it flashed to life, and the caller ID panel showed that it was his wife that had deigned to call him. Well, speak of the devil, and here she calls. He thumbed the connect button.

‘Adamma.’

‘Obi, darling, how nice of you to pick my calls,’ came the soft voice he’d have recognized anywhere, even in his sleep. ‘Well, I need your help again. As I am quite sure you know, something has come up and I need your help.’

Obi sighed; he could feel his heart hammering with anticipation in his chest as he felt to himself that he hated this woman, this wanton, foul-mouthed, feisty sexy bitch who could dare to call him up when they had a lot of issues to handle between them and seek for his help. It’s because she knows that I can never refuse her, he thought glumly. This woman is manipulative, though she was extremely fun when the mood was upon her icy-cold beautiful spirit. But I will show her yet.

‘You and I have got to meet because we have to talk,’ he told her. ‘I saw what you’d done online. That was not smart of you to have done because you know that it could affect the kids.’

‘What kids?’ she countered in her amused, bored voice. ‘They are mine, and for your information, they asked me to do the interview because they could not stay and see their lovely mother suffer for the indiscretions of their father who was too stupid to let the past be the past and forget the fact that he was a playboy and stay married to the wife he had blackmailed into marrying him.

You unleashed Della on me by going out with her when all you had to do was to tell her that the relationship you had with her was over. You never could control your cock, could you?’

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Obinna was incredulous. This woman had never ceased to amaze him. His twins_ telling her what to do and she’d done it? ‘You manipulated them into agreeing,’ he accused her, and he knew that his voice had risen a notch.

‘I did not have to, darling,’ she snapped coldly. ‘All I had to do was come back from the studio and break down in my room and for the twins to rush in and see me in that sorry state. You know that my kids love me more than anything in the world and will not see me suffer, so they had to tell me to do what I had to do in order to get the situation back under control. Hence, the interviews, and then the increase in popularity and Google hits, increase in my albums sales. That was very nice of your whore to do what she had to do in order to get me out of the scene and for you to hate me. Is it working?’

‘We have to meet,’ Obi blurted out, surprising even himself with the declaration of those words. ‘My secretary called me to tell me that you have something you’re working on which you involved me in. We have to talk about that.’

Adamma laughed out loud. ‘My dear, you’re so clueless; there’s nothing to talk about. According to the media, you and I sat down together and agreed that you were going to be donating a lump sum of money to the charity for homeless kids which I’m currently working on and which you had agreed to help out with.

Oh, the kids do thank you for your generosity. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go because my masseur is pinging me to come in for my session with him.

And please do not go making an ass out of yourself by not being amenable to the young lady I had just sent to collect your goodwill cheque from you for those lovely kids down in Tanzania.’ She hung up.

Obinna held the phone in his hand as he felt the fury welling up within him at the audacity of this ridiculous woman who could wield such power in her little fingers so effortlessly. He was trembling, and he hated the fact that she was the only woman who had the capacity to control him, rendering him so

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utterly helpless and frustrated, like some impotent jerk that could do nothing.

Gosh; what a bitch.

Blinking back the fog that had clouded his eyes as he’d thought about his wife, he thumbed the screen of his phone back to life and then went online, to the site which was maintained by Adamma. Scrolling through the pages, he discovered that indeed there was a charity she was involved in. There were a lot of pictures, and he clicked through them, his gut wrenching as he looked at the faces of kwashiorkor-ravaged kids whose skin hung on their skeletal frames like death masks.

And there was the celebrity wife, photographed as she carried some of the children in the orphan shelter and had spoon-fed a sickly-looking, completely malnourished little boy, and there were tears in her eyes. It was undoubtedly real, and Obinna found himself being moved by her humanity, this cold, heartless bitch who had tortured him for well over a decade with her beauty and her charms which she could turn on and off like the flick of a light bulb.

The truth was that she was real, at least to the people she wished to help and shower her generosity upon when the mood suited her; and to him she had chosen to be a real bitch, the real ice queen who had to freeze into such coldness when she had to contend with him. Unaffected, haughty to him when the bitch switch in her brain had been turned on, with her airs of cold superiority and untouchable frozen beauty which had been dramatically maintained over the years on the big screens, she was the perfect nemesis for him. And he would deal with her in his own way.

She wanted his cash, right? Then she was going to have to come and get it herself.

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CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The restaurant was packed full with the upper class of the city. There was a chandelier that was suspended from the artfully decorated ceiling, lighting up the painstakingly made up faces of the women who were all dressed to kill.

Elegantly dressed, handsome waiters and waitresses glided from table to table with heaped trolleys of the best food money could buy on the Lagos Island, depositing their burden on the tables of the patrons and their painted trophy women who would have to pay a hefty sum for whatever food they had chosen to eat there.

The swinging doors of the entrance opened, and two women stepped in, and for a moment, the air around the room seemed to cease for moment.

Adamma looked breathtaking, dressed in a light brown sheath dress that accentuated the color of her eyes and dramatically heightened the lightness of her skin, showed off the shocking blackness of her hair which hung down to her slim shoulders in artful disarray. Her eyebrows hung in a full arch above her wide, light brown, luminous eyes which had been touched up with frosty dark eye makeup; her lips was outlined in red, a color that went with the thigh-length Jimmy Choo boots which she wore, and her leather Prada clutch bag.

Beside her stood Amanda who had assembled herself into an all-grey ensemble that looked breathtaking on her and which she’d worn to show off her 210

new toned body which she’d gotten after five weeks of grueling physical punishment her fitness trainer had doled out to her after the birth of her latest baby. She looked lovely, though she paled into insignificance beside Adamma who seemed to radiate some kind of inner light that rendered her so ethereal and magical and had the richest men falling over themselves to please her.

The two women moved to their reserved table, with all eyes following their progress, and Obinna watched them too. He just couldn’t stop himself; she was too beautiful, too magically irresistible for him not to look at her. In his own twisted way he was very proud of her and all that she had achieved for herself.

He watched her sit down with her friend and flash a dazzling smile to the older couple who were seated to their left. They ordered their food, and Obinna waited for a few minutes for them to get settled before he downed his glass of wine, stood up, and then went over to their table. As he pulled up a chair to sit on, he was aware of the fact that the two women who had been chattering away like schoolgirls on a lunch break had shut their mouths up.

‘Hello, ladies,’ he said in greeting, and with a flourish he signaled a waiter and placed an order for a plate of crab soup. He looked straight into his wife’s eyes and smiled at her, and he was lost for a moment in those shocking, mesmerizing eyes that had trapped him forever when they had held him in their depths all those countless years ago.

There was no emotion there, no shock that he had disrupted the meal between two close friends all simply because of the fact that he wanted to see his wife who had sworn to be completely inaccessible when she was needed. He realized with a pang that tonight was the very first time he was seeing her in a very long time; she had only dominated his thoughts and his mind due to the fact that her face was everywhere, that beautiful, devilish face that had sworn to haunt him forever.

Adamma smiled at him after they had held each other’s gaze for very long moments, to the exclusion of every other thing that were around them. At that 211

moment, when their eyes had locked together, it was as if electricity had swept over her at the sight of this handsome, impossible man. A lot of feelings had swept over at the sight of him, but they had all been too brief for her to be able to analyze them fully as they had flashed through her mind. And then came the avalanche of questions: what was he doing here? How did he know that she was going to be there? But there was something about him now . . . what was it?

‘Darling, what a surprise,’ she said in her best hostess voice. She was not a public figure for nothing; she knew how to work a room, and she was not going to give these hawks who were all straining their stupid necks to hear her conversation between her and the man she’d separated herself from the satisfaction of seeing her fall apart. Oh no, that would make the frontline news of the early editions of tomorrow. So, the charm had to be there.

‘I decided to surprise you by coming out here since you had made yourself unavailable to me,’ Obinna said slowly. He turned to Amanda. ‘You look lovely, dear, and congrats on your new baby boy. I hope you love the little toy I sent to you.’

The woman’s eyes lit up. ‘Love the little toy? My God! It was magnificent.

Thanks for that; I never got the chance to call you and personally thank you but it was magnificent.’

Adamma watched this exchange with a small smile of contempt for her husband since she knew that he was trying to use the over-active emotions of her closest friend and spy on her, but she’d seen through the ploy. She was no fool.

‘What do you want?’ she asked him succinctly, though she still kept her voice pitched very low, as if she talking to an intimate lover. And he was indeed the intimate lover that she had, one that she loved more than anything else in the world.

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Amanda almost choked on the glass of water she had raised to her lips.

‘Adamma, don’t be silly, please. We are having dinner.’ Her eyes were imploring.

A muscle in the jaws of the singer twitched, and though she’d seen the look of plea, she had no intention of paying any heed to it. ‘I am not eating dinner,’ she said coldly.

‘Yes, obviously you’re not eating anything,’ Obinna said as he looked down into the plate of fresh green salad she was eating without any mayonnaise, and the plate of water melons beside it in distaste. ‘You’re right, darling, you’re not eating anything if what I see in your plate is anything to go by. If I were to start eating the way you do, then I will be dead by now.’

‘Then die, you bloody bitch,’ the singer hissed at him in a very low voice that wasn’t meant to be heard outside their table. But she was still smiling at him with the forced sweetness of a cat trying to befriend a mouse before it moved in for the kill. ‘First, you come stalking me here just to see me_’ ‘That’s ridiculous,’ Amanda interrupted in annoyance. ‘He was not stalking you; this meeting here was just a coincidence.’

Adamma looked so furious Obinna was almost afraid that either her stunning face peeled off with the force of her vicious anger, or that she would hurl that horrible plate of healthy nothing she was eating straight at his face_ she had done it to him once upon a time right in the middle of the both of them having sex and then had sent him flying out of the room with her bare hands and then slammed the door shut and slid the bolt in place.

Though, on that occasion she had made it up to him the following day by saturating his privates with cream and licking off every drop before they had gotten into bed and had sex the whole day. He almost smiled just to think of it, but now he knew that it would never happen to him if he were to pander to the extent of making her to haul the plate of her food at his face.

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‘He was stalking me,’ Adamma said in a dangerously low voice. Her face was hardening the more, and she looked changed, with her eyes flashing with the force of her emotions. ‘First, you had to refuse to give the money I had politely asked you for to the young woman I had sent over to you.’

‘I think you meant bimbo,’ Obinna said with a low chuckle. ‘The bitch had such a full chest that I was almost unable to see what she had for a face. Her legs were too long, her skirt too impossibly tight and stretched over her ass it looked almost painted on. Then there was the fact that she looked just like a hooker who had run away from a nightclub without her clothes on, what with all that massive, expensive virgin Brazilian hair she’d sewed on to her scalp in the name of looking trendy and fashionable.’

‘For your information, Isabella is a highly paid underwear model and one of the backup dancers I lined up for my new dance video,’ Adamma snapped, her voice deadpan. ‘And I knew you would be very difficult, so I sent her there to seduce you and fuck you senseless so that you could fork over the money I need for the project I’m working on.’

Obinna had been smiling with satisfaction at the fact that he’s bested this impossible woman, but when his wife dropped the bomb about what he’d been expected to do with the stunning bimbo she’d sent over, his smile was wiped so fast, there was no expression left to cover up the ensuing blankness. The shock wave that swept through him rendered him momentarily speechless, and beside him, he could feel the other woman freezing up with shock that equaled his, her jaws now slack.

‘You what?’ they demanded simultaneously.

Adamma smiled, and there was a viciousness in her face, an icy coldness and triumph, that rendered her husband shattered. Jesus, he thought, this woman can kill.

She continued, obviously now enjoying herself immensely at his expense.

‘From the moment I called you, I knew you would be an impossible jerk to 214

handle so I decided to unleash one of my girls on you. Remember how you used to say that I was a whore? Well, I almost still am because I have a horde of girls, all of them recruited from the streets in the Lagos State University so they can work for me, seducing bitchy men like you and having them bend to my will. It was all too simple, telling her what to do with your silly ass and divulging the information that I was going to be here tonight so you could come and continue making such a fool of yourself. I knew you would never resist the chance to see me again after all we’d been through and_’ ‘That’s enough!’ Amanda rasped, though she had to keep her voice low so as not to attract the attention of the other diners who were occasionally stealing glances at their table. ‘This is a private conversation between the both of you and it would be stupid for me to listen to you.’

Adamma looked at her so coldly, so icily, that the woman almost shrank back into her chair as she quailed before the devil in Adamma’s eyes. The latter said; ‘You are not going anywhere. I brought you here so you can witness and see for yourself what a bastard he is and how cruel he can be to me. But if you still want to leave, feel free to do so; then you’ll have to find your own way home because you will not enter my car. You won’t enter his too because then I will call up your darling husband and then you’ll have to tell what you were doing in mu husband’s car.’

She smiled as the impact of her words sank in and the woman paled thoroughly under her makeup. ‘Good dog. So you’ll stay, yes?’ She waited. ‘I did not hear you, dear. You will stay, yes?’

‘Yes.’ Amanda had aged by ten years.

Adamma patted her on the thighs. ‘That’s good.’ She turned back to her husband. ‘And you; I had to do what I had to do in order to get you here and to give me the money I want.’

Obinna stared back coldly into those haunting, mesmerizing eyes that were boring into him relentlessly. ‘No, I will not give you the money you want. It 215

must have been for a good course, but do not think that I approve of your blackmail, so I will not give it to you and nothing will happen.’

‘You will give me the money I want, and here’s why.’ Retrieving her purse from the floor, Adamma pulled out a long brown envelope which had been folded into two and then tossed it in the middle of the table and lifted her spoon, her face now merry. ‘Open it, darling. You too, Amanda; you’ll both love it.

Now please do not disappoint me by not touching the envelopes. I brought them especially for you here today. Enjoy the evidence.’ Merrily, she dug into her plate with gusto.

Amanda was the first to lift the envelope and open it to look through the contents. After a few moments she let put a gasp, making Obinna to pick up the envelope and extricate the Polaroid shots that were inside. Then he gasped too and turned shocked eyes of disbelief on his wife who was busy eating her food happily and gulping down her bottle of mineral water as if she had no worries in the world.

There in the shots were pictures of Isabella, the bimbo his wife had turned loose on him; her face looked puffy and swollen; there was blood on her lips, and she looked as if she had been thoroughly abused by a sadist who had beaten her to a pulp. The terrifying part of it was that the pictures appeared to have been taken after the time the young woman had come to see him_ he could tell that particular detail by her dress.

‘What is this?’ he demanded, only for the stunning woman to look up from her plate and regard him like a person would a mentally handicapped person.

Their eyes locked together, and he saw the pure animal predator that lurked in their depths. He knew he was lost.

‘What does that look like?’ Adamma said patiently, her face lit up by a smile. ‘That is the evidence of what you did to my girl. She came to you in my name to seek for the funds which I need to go and do what I have to do for those starving little dears in Tanzania and you battered her to pieces. She admits that 216

you did not rape her but what we have here is a case of aggravated assault and battery with grievous bodily harm which you doled out to a woman who does not deserve it. You are in for a hell of a long ride, baby.’

‘This is bullshit!’ He banged his hand down on the table, rattling the dishes there, and he felt the warning look from his wife’s eyes which seemed to say: easy, darling, we’re in the public. ‘This is a mere fabrication and you know it!’ he hissed, his face leaning forward towards the face of this woman who was an angel-faced she-devil. ‘This is sheer crap!’

‘I wish I can say it was otherwise,’ Adamma retorted, and then she gave a small sigh. ‘My dear, you are in serious trouble. Isabella is going to sue you.’

She turned her attention to Amanda who looked ready to pass out. ‘Would you go and wait for me in the car for a few minutes, dear? I would like to talk to my husband for a few minutes, and then we can go. Thank you.’

Amanda rose to her feet unsteadily, her face almost grey with shock. ‘You are a monster!’ she hissed at Obi, right before she grabbed her purse and fled for the doors.

Adamma then looked at her estranged husband critically for the first time since they had entered the room. Her face was devoid of feeling, bereft of all emotion. She was deadpan. ‘I know this is a shock for you to handle, but now I control you and you shall dance to my tunes like a puppet.’

‘You’re lying,’ Obinna said, though he remained shell-shocked with disbelief that she would go to that length just to get what she wanted from him.

‘This is a farce, a sham! I never touched her. I never did anything to her and you know it. How can you just manufacture all these crap and then come here to blackmail me? I thought better of you.’

Adamma laughed mirthlessly at him. ‘You never thought any good of me.

To you I was just a whore you had married for the fact that I was unfortunate enough and stupid enough to have borne your children. You thought very poorly of me. I could see the way you looked at me_’ 217

‘With desire,’ Obi broke in desperately.

‘And there was disgust there too, you fucking bitch. You had that look on your face, and the times the look was there was when you watched me sleep sometimes; or rather, when I pretended to be asleep while you watched me with those rich playboy eyes of yours which could never hide anything from me. You hated me, and staying with you was oppressive and boring. Now, you’ve gotten one of my girls beaten up mercilessly when you did your sadistic crap on her, and she is going to file charges against you tomorrow. Get ready to face the music when her lawyer calls on you.

‘And please do not tell me that you are innocent, for that is the most used rule in the book. Thank God she said she has a recorded tape of what you did to her; about how she had pleaded and pleaded with you to let her go, that she was just a girl trying to make a living and work her way through the university, but you were brutal. It saddens me terribly to hear what you had done to that beautiful girl. Now, you shall pay for it.’ She emphasized the last four words by jabbing her fingers into the air in front of his face, and there was a look on her face that spelt out war clearly.

And that was when Obinna knew that he was a dead man. He sat there as if thunderstruck, his mind reeling with shock, his brain struggling to work out the details of exactly what had transpired between him and the girl who had come on to him at his office and whom he had been so amenable to that he had foolishly entertained. That was when he knew that he was in serious trouble, that this fucking wife of his had played him like a useless puppet, that she had him now firmly by the balls. At first he had thought that they were playing a game and he was the master of the game, but now he knew that he was nobody in this deadly game of life and death he was playing with his wife and that she was the one that held all the aces. She was the owner of the game, and he was just a small inconsequential player who had no say in the matter.

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A waiter stopped before their table and out down a plate of fruit salad, a unique mixture which Adamma used to prepare for him and call her secret recipe when they were still together. He used to love the dish, but the sight of it now, after all these long months of battle, sickened him and he wanted nothing more than to throw up into Adamma’s sheath dress and slap her senseless. But he dared not do that; he knew now that she was an opponent he could not easily best in this game.

‘Here’s your dessert,’ Adamma told him. ‘I had the house prepare it especially for you, darling. I hope you like it.’ She smiled at him. I hope you choke on it, you beast. ‘And for now, I have to go.’ She was already on her feet, all set and ready to go. ‘Oh, but before I leave here tonight, I have a parting shot for you.’ She withdrew a small tape recorder from her purse and kept it on the table before Obi. ‘Listen to this when you get home, dear. I will be in touch with you soon. But until then, do not do anything stupid you may regret. By the way, the bill for my dinner and the takeaway bag I will leave here with are on you. I hope you don’t mind that terribly.’ She bent forward and brushed her lips on his left cheek.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

‘Oh please, do not hurt me!’

The female voice sounded completely scared and terrified, as if she was faced with a killer who was about to murder her and use her corpse for one evil deed or the other. ‘Oh my God! This is evil.’

Then there was the sound of something hitting against another, as something hard had connected with a skull. The female voice cried out again 219

and Obinna winced as if the blows had been dealt to him. The beating and the pleas for mercy continued relentlessly for a few more minutes, and then sound static emanated from the radio, a signal that the tape had run out.

Leaning forward in his chair, he snapped off the tape recorder and wiped the sweat away from his forehead with the sleeve of his Christian Dior shirt. He had broken out in a cold sweat as the tape had played out, and the reason was because of the fact the events which had been wickedly recorded on that tape all sounded very real, not fake. And that was a very huge problem. Any police officer in the world would easily believe that crap; shit, he even believed it himself.

But he knew that it was false. Relaxing back into the chair, he closed his eyes as he felt the onslaught of a headache, his first since the beginning of the year. He tried to reconstruct the events of that particular day when he’d encountered the skilled whore that his wife had sent to him to entrap him. He remembered the tall, stunning bitch as she’d cat-walked her way into his office, wearing a knee-length, expensive-looking trench coat which she’d divested herself of the very moment she’d stepped into his office to reveal a pair of huge, high breasts a porn actress could only dream of acquiring in a surgeon’s office which were encased in a tube top that was stretched tightly across the monstrous equipment she had on her chest.

She had very long legs that were left practically uncovered by the short nylon skirt she’d worn underneath the respectable-looking trench coat, and they were impossible not to look at. Even though she’d stated her mission as being to help Adamma in her charity work as an assistant, her body language said that she was there for a quick lay and some fast cash. Had it not been for the fact that he’d encountered Adamma, touched her and felt the magic of her power in the bedroom, he’d have been tempted to do something to the silly bitch.

Unfortunately she’d had a good head on her shoulders and she knew the stock market the way she knew how to do her daily makeup; she’d read all the 220

books he’d read and her intellect seemed to be so thoroughly fired up, she seemed to be an inexhaustible supply of knowledge for everything he knew. It was as if he’d met his wife anew, but with Isabella he’d not felt the red-hot passion and the desire he had for Adamma, but he’d really liked her attitude in spite of the fact that she’d dressed as a hooker to come there and seduce him.

Though he’d refused to give her the cheque she’d come for, she’d acted nicely; too nicely. And he’d liked her goodness. Then she’d said, ‘Do you think I can be an actress?’ and she’d asked it with such shyness he’d been moved at her seeming naivety in spite of the fact that she was dressed up like the hard cash babes of the Lagos mainland who were all financial vampires, looking for whom to suck dry.

He’d replied truthfully, ‘Yes, my dear, I think you can be one. You are very beautiful, very tall; you speak good English, you have a great head on your shoulders and you have a great body_ what’s there for the casting directors not to love about you? Go and knock them dead, my dear.’

She had blushed so furiously he’d almost thought she’d faint from the praise. ‘Well, here’s the thing. I have this movie audition that I’d attended and the casting director had given me a script to look at and then come over to the studio this evening to work on it with him. Would you mind if I showed it to you and you gave me one or two pointers on what to do? I am completely clueless about scripts though they say I have great talent.’

He’d looked at her for a long while as she waited there, quite agitated, and then he’d picked up the phone and called his secretary, telling her to freeze all calls for the next one hour, that he had something he was working with his visitor and did not wish to be disturbed. And then they’d gotten into the rehearsal for her role, with him playing the role of her abusive husband while she slipped into the role of the submissive, suffering wife. He had done it partly because of the fact that he’d wanted to help her but also because of the fact that during his high school days and the first two years of higher education, he’d 221

been involved in the drama groups and he’d loved it. Now, helping this lost soul see her way into the movie world was a dream come true for him and he would not pass it up.

The way she’d acted, slipping into the role of the abused, crying woman so effortlessly and naturally had been amazing, and even her tears had been real_ any sane person who’d heard that voice would have thought that she was at the point of death as she’d called his name over and over again, begging him to spare her, that he was killing her.

It had been so real . . . the bitch had really been there to set him up and record their small role play so that the tape could get to his wife and they could accuse him of aggravated assault and battery. Jesus! Adamma is a monster, he thought, and then he remembered what he’d told that Isabella bitch about the fact that she was such a talented actress; that she should pursue her dreams of getting into the movie industry. She was really talented, all right; the bitch. Oh, you have no idea how talented. The talent nonsense had all been a setup for him to fall into their trap; the fact that she’d mirrored his every desire, his every pastime, his hobbies and his interests, had all been a ploy to get him to fall for her charms so that they could hold him by the balls and then squeeze him out and then hang him to dry.

It was as if the girl had been coached by Adamma herself, because she was the only one that seemed to know him more than any other person in the whole world. She had him down to a T. And it had worked. He was no fool; he knew that every fool in the whole world who listened to that tape would believe that he’d really beaten the bitch senseless; she even had the fake makeup bruises and the fake witnesses who had carried her to the car to prove that he had abused her. Adamma had won. She wanted something from him, and this tape, coupled with the fact that there was the heavy risk of scandal should the matter ever blow out in the open, and the

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possibility of a jail term hanging over him should there ever be a conviction, would guarantee whatever she wanted from him.

She had sent him an email, notifying him of the fact that there was nothing he could do to save his ass except to do what she asked of him. If he refused, then there would be heel on earth to pay for the act. And he knew that she was one tough cookie that would do exactly what she had said she would do to him.

He was even ready to do anything for that woman so long as the tape vanished from existence altogether. That was the handwriting on the wall for him to read; he was walking on a very thin rope and he knew it. Adamma knew it, and he knew that she knew that she now had the power to bleed him dry. And it was all because of the fact that he’d been trying to help the stupid young whore she’d foisted on him. God, the anger he felt against his wife was so strong he almost had difficulty breathing now. He really wanted to put his hand around her beautiful throat and choke her to death, until the very life had oozed out from her eyes.

Until those luminous eyes of hers turned blank, closing as if they had they had been turned off by some light switch.

That would teach her a lesson, all right.

Her impending blackmail was as unexpected as it was shocking, and though he had never expected it, he couldn’t say that he was surprised that she could rise up to that height just in order to get back at him, he thought, just as his phone rang. The ID panel indicated that it was her, and he clicked on the answer button.

‘Adamma,’ he said; ‘where are you?’

‘I’m outside your office door. Your secretary buzzed me up but I had to notify you that I was already here. I am coming in.’ Even as she was saying it, the door swung open and she stood there framed in front of the doorway, looking as if she’d stepped out straight from the pages of a magazine photo shoot. Her sleeveless azure Chanel jacket was tailored to fit her perfectly, and 223

the matching Alexander McQueen skirt molded her trim waist and hugged the long length of her thighs; this was then topped with a huge pair of designer Prada sunglasses which masked her face, and there were loose tendrils of her slicked hair falling into her face. She looked ravishing.

As she came in, the scent of jasmine came wafting in like a cloud, suffusing the room with her fragrance. She moved with practiced, unaffected elegance towards her husband, and he felt the lump rise in his throat at the sight of her_ she never ceased to take his breath away whenever he saw her..

She was really beautiful, as were so many other women. But there was a way that she carried herself that made it seem as if she was some queen.

And that turned his insides to jelly whenever he thought of her.

‘Darling,’ she said in greeting as she floated forward and kissed the air around his cheeks. ‘You look tensed up. Maybe you’ve been working too hard or you’ve been getting very little relaxation these days. Perhaps it will be a thing on point for me to book an appointment for you with my masseur.’ She went to the big swivel chair behind the executive table and flopped into it, her eyes glued to the screen of the laptop which reposed on the polished desk.

Obinna watched her closely for any signs of malice, but there seemed to be none he could detect, though he knew that the woman was a seasoned expert at hiding her true feelings. ‘Why are you here?’ he asked her, and though she said nothing, he found it vaguely disturbing that she had occupied the chair he owned which often made him feel powerful whenever he was dealing with lesser men than he was in his office. He was now forced to settle himself on one of the visitors’ chairs in the plush office.

‘Well, darling, I have some good news for you,’ Adamma began, her voice cool and devoid of any heat. ‘Isabella has decided to let me handle the issues pertaining to the fact that you had abused her a few days ago when she’d come here to see you. I have already had her file a police report, and I’ve gotten my

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attorney involved in the matter. Has he called you yet? Well, that’s not important.’

Obinna said nothing, and the only reason why he was barely restraining himself from saying anything was because he didn’t want to say something which might lead him to do something he may regret. He looked at her, and her neck seemed almost to beckon to him: it was so beautiful, smooth, and flawless; what would it be like for him to put his strong hands on that lovely neck and squeezing until the bones snapped? The crazy fucking bitch deserved it.

Just reach forward, and then you’ll have her neck, some inner voice was whispering to him. It will be so easy to throttle her.

‘You and I both know that nothing had happened on that very day,’ he said instead as he put his hands in between his laps and squeezed at them with his muscular thighs because they now seemed to have a mind of their own; they wanted to reach forward and do something that would make him go to prison for the rest of his life. At that moment he really hated her enough to want to do that.

Adamma flashed him a smile, revealing a row of strong white teeth. ‘There is nothing you can say or do which will make you any less a monster than you are. You know that your arguments will not stand up in any court of law should this go the four walls of a court. So, what I came here to do is to offer you a lifeline for you to take and get out of this scrap you’ve got yourself involved in so that you can go back to your life. Now, my girl wanted to have your ass on a platter, but I had to persuade her to let you be in exchange for a substantial amount of money paid into an account in her name. Now, she’s turned everything over to me to handle as I deem fit to handle same.

‘What I want is very simple: right here in my purse are two documents which are in need of our signatures respectively. They are our divorce papers__ the terms of settlement for the wealth that belongs to us as a couple, and you’re going to sign them; I already signed what I had to with regards to the papers. I 225

know that your net worth runs in excess of over four billion, so all I will ask you to do for me in return for this scandal to leave you alone is one billion, all in stocks and convertible bonds, turned over to me by your lawyers, and then you and I will call it quits in our sham of a marriage. That’s all.’

Obinna stared at her for a very long moment and she stared right back at him with those fathomless eyes of hers, her face composed into a mask of queenly indifference, and then he stood up and looked down at her with his fists balled at his sides. He really was at a loss for words for perhaps the very first time in his life. He’d been able to chain her down to his name in spite of the fact that they had been separated for so long it seemed as if they had never been together in the first place. That marriage certificate had been what he’d been able to use and bind her to his name, and he’d succeeded.

It had given him some modicum of control over her and that had been the reason why he’d not really been bothered with the fact that she’d chosen to be a free spirit and go her way; he could always call on her and she’d come running to him_ she had come to him several times as he’d deemed it fit to have her by his side when he’d attended public gatherings, to the adoration of the countless persons who were enamored with the glitz of celebrity life.

Sometimes he would take out the marriage certificate and then stare at to reassure himself that he still had it, that she was still his wife.

How could he have known that she’d been busy all these weeks and months, planning her coup? And now, it seemed like she’d succeeded. She was right after all; nobody in his or her right minds would believe him when he said that he’d done nothing to the bimbo_ the tape was too convincing, and the pictures would make the stomach of even the most seasoned of veterans roil with distaste. She had won. But still, he wouldn’t give up without a fight.

‘What if I don’t sign the papers like you want me to?’ he asked in the coldest, iciest voice he could muster. Terms of settlement, with everything the way she wanted it to be.

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‘Then you shall get ready to play a game for your freedom, my love, and I assure you that you can never win against me; not in this anyway,’ Adamma replied icily, her face clenched shut with anger and cold triumph. ‘I will leave here and you shall have your sorry ass arrested for aggravated assault and battery; there will be a court hearing which will garner the biggest publicity you cannot even begin to imagine. I will personally see to it that you hang for that crime you didn’t commit. I will do it, my dear, and then when you’re safely behind bars, I will have my attorneys file a petition for a divorce; it cannot be refused, that I assure you. So, what is it going to be?’

She smiled at him as she said these last words, and then she pulled out a sheaf of documents from her purse and pushed them across the glossy table to him. Relaxing back into her chair as if she had no cares in the world, she looked up at him expectantly. She could see him struggling with some inner demon within him as he glared down at her with eyes that were filled with anger and_ was that pain she saw in those eyes?

Obinna exhaled, and it seemed as if the fight had gone out of him. He now looked very tired, very defeated, is if he’d lost out on a battle. He picked up the pen on the table, glanced once at the papers to see where he was to sign beside his wife’s neat appendage, and then he signed. There was a small tremor in his hand as he signed the documents, and he could feel the weight of something he couldn’t quite fathom on his chest.

It was all over for him and this woman; this lovely, devilish, smart, infuriating creature who had affected him more than any other woman had ever affected him since the day he was born. Since his birth, nothing had ever been denied him; he had his choice of the flashiest cars, the most beautiful girls on campus during his school days; the best food_ nobody had ever dared to refuse him anything in his life. But this woman, this twisted creature with the face of an angel and a heart hewn out of granite, had dared to defy him; she had started it on that fateful night the Fates had sealed their destinies together by refusing to 227

come and call on him like they’d agreed to do before he left Nigeria, and she was ending it now by forcing him to sign the papers he would rather fling of the window while he laid her down on this table and made love to her.

When he was signing the papers, he looked up, and he could see that she was watching him, and there was that look of happiness and cold triumph on her face which she’d always invariably adopted whenever she was winning. And now, it was obvious she knew she’d won him in this round, the woman had bested him.

‘Thank you, my love,’ Adamma said with the honeyed sweetness of a whore about to steal her customer blind. She stood up, her long fingers reaching to sweep one set of the signed documents into her bag. She then walked across the desk to him and laid her left hand on his cheek.

‘Do not look so crestfallen, my dear,’ she said, and there was a tinge of regret in her voice. ‘It didn’t work out between us, and this is the way it should be. But, do you know what I’ve done? I’ll leave one set of documents here for you and then you can give it to my lawyer whenever you wish to. When you give them to him, then he’ll file the petition for the dissolution of our marriage.

It is all in your hands. You decide when you want our divorce to become official. Now, do I get one last kiss?’

Obinna looked at her, and there was this look of sadness he saw in her face which he could almost swear was genuine. Her arms were outstretched towards him in invitation, and she was there smiling at him, her face so impossibly stunning and beautiful, there was no way she could be refused, and she was smiling at him with such angelic sweetness that his chest almost contracted with pain.

He wanted to kill her; the pain and the urge to do so was so great that he wondered why he didn’t reach out to her throat and strangled her to death. But how could he do that to this woman, with that shockingly beautiful face and perfectly toned body, this paragon of beauty who had chained him and millions 228

of other men to her. What they had bound him to her like unbreakable iron bonds.

As his reason fled and his animal passion took over, he found himself covering the little distance between them in two strides. There she stood, with that small smile on her stunning face as she looked up at him in expectation, her breaths coming in shallow gasps, and it seemed as if she was waiting for him to take her.

And that was what he did. He pulled her to his chest none too gently, and then his mouth sought hers of its own volition, as if acting independently of him.

Their lips connected, and it seemed as if the world had exploded into a blast of warmth and feelings as they kissed, their lips locked together, their tongues connecting as he forced her mouth open with his lips. He was breathing raggedly, as was she, and he knew that she wanted him just as he wanted her.

It was for the last time.

That realization jarred him thoroughly, so that he was pulling her in, and he was aware of his hands digging into her shoulders sharply. He must be hurting her, one rational part of his mind warned him, but the animal in him had taken over too strongly for him to notice. The kiss was strong, and brutal, but it was the way the condition had rendered everything. He was pulling at the buttons of her Chanel jacket, and she was struggling to free herself.

‘Darling, you’ll ruin my Chanel!’ she gasped, but it was just a feeble attempt at being the injured woman.

‘I’ll buy you more of these rags!’ he ground out fiercely as he pulled the material open, and to his greatest surprise her breasts swung free of the material.

He stopped for a wonder-filled moment to stare at the perfect mounds, nothing covering them; she was wearing no bra. God, how he had missed those breasts!

‘No bra?’ he teased her.

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She smiled saucily at him. ‘If I had worn one I think you’d have ripped it off,’ she replied, and her lips brushed on the tip of his nose. ‘This has to be our very last tryst, so please be gentle.’

And after that there was no need for small talk. Obinna quickly rid her of her skirt to reveal a pair of sexy underwear that had him almost flipping his control. He was aware of the fact that he was fully hot and ready for her, his phallus straining against his shorts, but he had to be patient, for she was a dish made for the gods and not for men. He undressed, and as he did so he kissed her flat stomach, the very small downward triangle of dark hair that hid her heat from his view, her thighs, and even her feet as she helped him to pull off her sandals. Then she danced away from his reach, and there was a calculating look in her eyes as she took him in with her eyes.

‘Take off your clothes,’ she commanded in her cold, almost toneless voice which she’d used to drive him crazy with desire for her body. She was smiling at him now, and the smile was the embodiment of sexual desire, a pure animalistic desire that had her panting at the sight of him.

Obinna obeyed her, slowly, his eyes locked to hers in a silent contest of wills. He stripped off the top Emporio jacket, and then went the navy-blue shirt, and then he unbuckled his belt and let his trousers slide down his hips. He worked now with speed, and when his briefs were pulled down to his knees he jumped out of the Gucci loafers he’d worn to work that morning. His erection stood ramrod straight in-between his thighs, itching with passion, ready for the dish the heavens had showered down on it.

They smiled at each other, and it was reminiscent of the smile they used to share in the privacy of their bedroom whenever they were in the throes of passion. They knew each other only too well; they understood each other’s need and the desires that were raging through them at that particular moment. They came together again, and this time, they were bare skin to bare skin, their bodies united in the ancient, timeless rhythm of sex and the union of two bodies.

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They kissed, and Obi felt that she had never tasted better than she tasted at that particular time; he felt that her fragrant hair had never smelt better, that she had never been more beautiful to him than she was at that moment. He kissed her forehead, moving on down to her nose, and from there on to her lips, and to the curve of her neck, right before he connected with the erect aureoles of her nipples. She moaned and arched against him, her mouth breathing his name, her fingers curling into his hair, and he felt such great elation that she wanted him, that she wanted him to touch her the way he was doing so now.

He kissed her navel, and the taut muscles of her midriff shook at the touch of his lips against her flesh. His finger sought and found the soft mound of her sex, and he rubbed at the hot wetness of that feminine triangle, his erection throbbing with pain and torture as she twisted and whispered out his name without inhibitions. He loved the fact that she was a wanton she-devil in the bedroom, devoid of that iron control she always exhibited towards him, and the fact that she was moaning and calling him and running her fingers through his hair showed him that he still had something to hope for.

He pulled her down to the plush carpet, his fingers parting her wet sex; a rush of heady feminine heat hit his nostrils. His tongue flashed out, and then he took her into his tongue with his strong hands as he lifted her waist. He kissed her there, and she moaned, her hips twisting under the pressure of his hands while he stroked her core with his tongue, eating her out, savoring the fact that she could be enjoyable, that she could still relax and enjoy his touch.

Adamma drew his head up from her core, her eyes misted over with the force of her pleasure. She was panting, all wet and ready for him, and as their eyes locked together she felt a surge of power sweep through her. She knew that she had a hold over him, that she had the capability of driving him over the edge with her charms; she knew she was his whore right then, an object to be used for his satisfaction until he wanted no more of her. She had him, and she wanted him to know that she had him.

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‘Take me,’ she whispered into his ear, her tongue licking at his lobe. She smiled to herself. Then she ran her fingers through his chest, her nails digging into the strong flesh of his pectoral muscles, before moving on down to his stomach, and then dipping lower to the dark hair that encircled his phallus.

When she gripped him in her hand, she felt him shudder, and she knew that she could tip him right over the edge with one of her magic strokes as she had done to him severally. She kissed him on the lips and then she stroked him. He gasped and shuddered under her lips and held himself rigid, but she would have none of that withholding crap from him.

She slapped his back gently, and he sighed and relaxed, though the maleness of him stood hard as a rock in her hand, and stroked it with loving wonder. She then cupped his balls with her free hand and squeezed with a little pressure; before she let her wonder fingers slip down to the area between his sphincter and his scrotum. She massaged him there, and the joy she felt at his response was boundless_ it was a good factor that she had him in her grasp in the bedroom. It gave her a sense of power.

They were kissing, and Obi was only vaguely aware when she guided him into her heat, and he moved within her slowly, his hips turning from side to side so that he stroked the inner walls of her sanctuary, thus maximizing her pleasure.

They clung together there on the floor, their bodies united in coitus, their breaths coming as a unit, their mouths glued together, and their fingers stroking and touching each other. She was stroking his hard, muscular buttocks, urging him in with the pressure of her touch to drive at her faster, and the pleasure was coming at them together. They were writhing on the floor almost as if they were on fire, their cries echoing into each other’s mouths, the rhythm of their movement synchronized in the heat of their passion.

‘Oh my God!’ Obi moaned into her mouth; ‘I’m about to cum.’

And he drove faster, his hips pumping at her with greater force, his muscles clenching, his right middle finger reaching down to stroke her clit, and he felt 232

her gasp and rear up as if she’d been zapped with a thousand volts of electricity, the force of her movement lifting them up almost clear of the ground. At that moment they both looked into each other’s eyes, and it seemed as if the breeze had stopped, as if the air had stopped moving in the room, as if the very essence of Time itself had stopped. It was as if they had communicated with each other, as if something silent and yet very powerful had passed between them; a current of unspoken emotions.

They came together, hard, their eyes rolling up, their muscles clenching and unclenching as the pleasure swept through them in a tidal wave that left them boneless as Obi’s seed flowed into his wife in a gush, and then they collapsed down on the floor together. Their bodies were entwined, and there was their breaths coming together, their faces leaning into each other, their eyes fixed on each other’s faces. They kissed and then lay back on the floor, though Obi made no move to withdraw himself from her and Adamma made no move to pull herself away from him.

They stayed like that for a few minutes without talking, and then they went at it again, this time more slowly, more languidly, enjoying the pleasure that they each had to offer the other, their fingers exploring each other, their lips licking and kissing at each other, their moves flowing seamlessly with the tune and the rhythm they had established with each other through the time they had been together as husband and wife.

They came together again, and then they cleaned themselves up and Adamma got dressed again. She seemed to move now with almost military precision and impatience as she donned on her clothes and ran a brush through her hair while Obinna watched her work at getting herself assembled back into the stunner she was. She applied a makeup brush of loose powder to her face, and then she did some finishing touches to her hair by wetting her palms with her saliva and then brushing same through her hair. She now looked more presentable than she’d been a few minutes ago.

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‘There, I’m right about done,’ she said when she was finally finished touching up her appearance and flipping her compact makeup mirror shut. ‘That does it.’ She turned to Obinna, and the smile she bestowed upon him was as bright as a new day. ‘We are done, my love. We have our last kiss. I have to go, but before I do that, let’s see what we’ll do about these divorce papers. I will keep one set of papers, and you can keep the other. I’m not in any hurry to file them with my attorney, so you’ll keep one set and I’ll keep the other. Whenever you feel you want to pay for the settlement, you can send them over to my lawyer; it’s all up to you.’

Obinna said nothing because he knew that he had been bested at his own game by his own little wife who could make him rot in prison if she decided to have the details of his so-called assault on Isabella flashed before the eyes of the courts. He knew she had it in her to do it; he never for a moment doubted that she could make his life miserable if she so wished_ she was a mean, vicious bitch when she had to deal with a perceived enemy. Right now, he was that enemy she had to get rid of.

‘Can’t we continue the way we’re doing without having to send these to the courts?’ he asked. ‘It seems so sudden for us to just end the marriage we had even though it was crappy. At least, we had our moments. You know that and I do too.’

Adamma smiled at him. ‘I know we had our moments. Here’s what’s going to happen: I do not plan to get out of this marriage soon, but I had to have something which can give me an edge over you; I had to have something concrete that could make me walk away anytime I chose to do so without you pulling me back. You can’t blackmail me anymore with the fact that I had once been a whore and a lap-dancer_ the story is everywhere already. But I do want my freedom, and believe me when I tell you that I could have killed you a long time ago just to have it. I had my chances, even on that night before we all went to the Igwe House for that charity crap, but I didn’t because it’d have served me 234

no useful purpose to do so. You know I can do it, and I had almost killed you at that motel we’d stayed at, but I chose not to. Your life was in my hands.’

Obinna knew that. He never doubted her for a moment, and that was the aspect of her character that almost had goose pimples popping out all over him.

She had mind and the heart to it if she so wished, but she hadn’t. That was a shock; they had been together on that fateful night and she’d wanted to kill him, but she hadn’t. She had hated him enough to almost kill him, but she’d restrained herself. Why? ‘So now I have to go, and I will keep in touch,’ she continued in that cool, unfathomable voice of hers. ‘See you around, and for the sake of hell, please do not be such a stranger to your children. Come around.’ And with that she picked up the file that she’d chosen as her own copy, flashed him a smile that would have made a miser open up his purse strings for her, and then she flew out of the office with great speed without looking back at him for the last time.

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CHAPTER NINETEEN

Adamma sat down behind the steering wheel of her car and slipped out her phone from her bag. She looked at the screen and saw that she had twenty missed calls; seven were from her dance instructor; three were from Isabella who was also one of the backup dancers she intended to use in her upcoming video; five were from her twin babies, and the other five were from Amanda.

She smiled and returned the call to her best friend.

‘Adamma, where have you been?’ the woman demanded even before the phone had the chance to ring. ‘I have been calling you and you chose not to

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answer. Please do not tell me that you went to see your husband like you’d said you would. Please, Ada!’ Adamma sighed. ‘I already did, my dear. He’s signed the papers and one set is with me. I left the other set for him to do what he wished with them.’

Amanda let out a moan. ‘You’ve just ruined the entire thing. What if he takes them to the lawyer?’

Adamma laughed with a confidence that set her lips curling in a smile of amusement. ‘He won’t. He still has them, and he’s going to keep them. So will I.’ ‘Are you sure you want to do this? I remember when you’d wanted to marry him I’d asked you whether you wanted to do it and you’d laughed it off like a fool and then gone on ahead to marry him. You wept for him, Ada, because of all that had happened to you_’ ‘But now I’m leaving him because he’s not worth the worries,’ Adamma cut in. ‘Relax, dear; I know what I’m doing.’

‘You don’t know what you’re doing. You left him_ how long ago was that?

Nine months ago? One year ago? Or is it two years ago? _and yet you still have feelings for him like some love-struck teenager. The feelings between the two of you is too strong, nothing can come between you two, not even your individual foolishness and stupidity. I’ve seen the way you two act around each other, and please do not tell me that you’re doing it in order to keep up the public good will because it won’t work with me, ok? Those feelings are real.’

‘The sex is real, and that’s right about it,’ Adamma said coldly, her left fist hitting against the dashboard in her anger. ‘Do not tell me what’s real and what’s not real in my life. It is my life, not yours, so butt off. Was that all you wanted to talk to me about?’ Angry now, she stepped out of the car and then shoved her Prada glasses up into her face to shield her eyes from the glare of the sun.

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Amanda sighed. ‘I wanted to tell you that you are making a huge mistake if you think you’re in your right senses with regard to this issue. You are dead wrong.’

‘I wish I was, but I’m not. I have my plans, and believe me when I tell you that I have my plans. Trust me on this, darling; I will triumph over him. You can bet your life on that.’ And then she disconnected the call and called the number she’d given to the twins to use whenever they wanted to reach her for anything they deemed important enough to disturb her without waiting for her to return home at the end of the day before they told her whatever the problem was. Helen picked up on the third ring, and it was obvious she had her brother with her there.

‘Mum, we have to talk to you about you and daddy,’ the girl said in her clear, nasal voice which sounded much like the voice of an adult than the voice of a pre-puberty girl who was still waiting for her time to arise so she could shine. But Helen was an extremely intelligent girl, very inflective, with the resourceful nature of an adult who was always on a mission. ‘Your charade with him has gone on for more than long enough. We know you still meet him, so what’s the plan?’

‘I’m working on it, my love,’ Adamma assured the girl, though she knew that her voice lacked any conviction; her daughter could see through any deception faster than a dog can smell a bone. And she really was working on their irresponsible father; they just had to give her more time to let everything fall into place. ‘I was just coming from his office right now, and I think the man is breaking down.’

‘Really, is that so?’ Helen demanded, and she sounded almost gleeful about that piece of information. She then burst out laughing. ‘Get us what we want from you, mum_ we want no disappointments. But it seems as if you can’t handle the affair well, so I thought it better to take over from you. I called daddy.’

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‘You what?’ Adamma exclaimed, her brows furrowed in shock. ‘Tell me what you did!’

‘I did nothing much, dear mother. I just had a little conversation with him to see how he was doing and whether he was missing our absence at home. He said that he was.’

Adamma blinked, and she felt the tears rushing up to her eyes to cloud her vision. At that moment, there was a crash of thunder in the sky, and the sky turned from the blinding blue it had been a few moments ago to a dark grey color that threatened a downpour. She groaned as the thunder crashed down again, knowing that there was no way she could drive to the appointment she had with her facial cosmetologist who she had to work with for her skin so she could look her optimum best during the video shoot for her new solo. She hated the Lagos weather more than she hated the weather in any other part of Nigeria she’d been to; it could start raining even without a moment’s notice. And then the rain started to pour down just like she’d inwardly feared it would, and she let out a groan of annoyance.

‘Honey, I have to go now because I’m about to get caught up in the rain,’ she told her daughter hurriedly as she tried to pry the door of the car open with her hand which was now wet with the rain. ‘I love you, dear, and I’ll be home soon.’ She disconnected the call, and by then, the rain was now pouring down in torrents.

She had just pried the door open and was about to dash into the car for the relative safety of the enclosure so that she wouldn’t be soaked to the skin and stand the chances of catching a cold when she heard her name being shouted loudly over the din the pounding rain was making. It’s just a crazy fan who should be seeking for shelter, she thought, and her right leg went into the car.

Then something stopped her short. There was something about that loud, yelling voice which rang like bells in her heart; it was a voice she’d know and recognize anywhere. But why was he after her?

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She threw her sleek Blackberry into the passenger seat and then turned away from the car. The wind and the pelting rain was billowing around her, slapping against her skin through the thin covering of her couture, and the visibility had greatly reduced, so that she seemed to be seeing through a thick grey veil of water and the street trash that was being whipped to a frenzy by the rain.

She could see the tall, trim figure of her husband running towards her, a look of great determination on his face, his clothes plastered to his skin as he raced through the rain towards her. She straightened up fully, and she could feel the wind tearing into her hair, the rain running into the black tresses she’d fully oiled that morning; her clothes had become plastered to her skin, becoming more of a second skin than a covering for her body.

So much for my appointment today, she thought in dismay.

Their eyes met and held, and then the whole world seemed to stand still; there was no rain anymore, no wind, and no street that separated them from each other. She seemed to be seeing him through a mist, and she could vaguely see that his lips were moving, that he was saying something to her though his voice was drowned out by the roar of the wind and the rain. Her hair was so plastered into her face she was almost unable to see him clearly.

The street stood between them because she’d parked her car outside the office complex which Obinna owned, and there were a few cars sweeping through the road as they raced to their respective directions from the busy road.

But still, husband and wife had each other in their sights.

That was when it happened.

WHEN ADAMMA LEFT HIS OFFICE, Obinna had settled himself into the swivel chair behind his opulent desk and stared off into space. He had the feeling that somehow something bad had happened to him, and the exit of the beautiful woman from his office heralded the beginning of some dark phase in 240

his life. During his youth there had been a lot of women who had been there for his taking, and the fun had been endless. However, from the moment he’d met Adamma the whore, the moment those eyes of hers had locked on to his face in a wordless challenge, something had changed.

There could be no other woman for him unless he had her, and when he did, he was lost. Fate had thrown them together again after the passage of over a decade, but now, she was leaving, and something told him that it was for the last time.

He had signed the divorce papers.

Why had he signed those papers? Why hadn’t he tried to fight her more?

Should he stop her? Should he run after her and get here to stop her idiotic act of foolishness? But he sat there paralyzed, and it was the ringing of his phone that snapped him back to the present out of his state of mental lassitude.

He answered the call which was from a number he didn’t have in his phone book.

‘Daddy, it’s me.’

Of course it’s you, my darling, he thought as a small wistful smile touched the corners of his lips. His lovely, intelligent daughter had called him. ‘Helen, my darling, how are you?’

‘Mummy came to see you today, didn’t she?’ she asked succinctly, without the slightest acknowledgement of the question her father had asked. ‘I miss you, daddy, and so does Ian; he asks of you all the time and wants to know when we can all become a family once again. What are you doing about it? Remember that you weren’t there for a very long time, and now you’re gone again. We want you to come home to us again.’

‘It’s up to me and your mother to settle our issues between each other and then see what we can do about it. I love you and your brother very much and I’m sure you know it already. Your mummy loves you too, but then we can’t seem to agree on what we want.’

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Helen snorted in her adult way. ‘That’s bullshit and you know it,’ she said, and there was accusation in her voice. ‘You both know what you want_ you’re just too stubborn to accept it. Daddy, please, don’t let mummy get away.’

‘She’s not going away.’

‘She is; we all are going to the UK, and mummy plans for us never to come back again. You have to stop her; else you’ll never see us again. And I know that I want to continue seeing you; you’re my dad and I love you. You have to go to her and stop her! Stop her or else we’ll leave you forever and there’s nothing to be done! Stop her!’ The girl’s words ended on a choked sob. Then she clammed up and cut the connection.

Obinna sat there weighing the revelation that had been dished out to him by his little child; the daddy’s girl of the house. And he knew deep down that Helen was not lying to him; she was the truthful type, and the truth was everything to her and she would never compromise her principles in any way.

For her to have said such a thing meant that it was true; her mother was stealing them away from their roots, away from him. That was why the woman had come to the office to see him: it was her own small way of saying goodbye to him.

At least she had cared that much to think to come to him to say her goodbyes. She could have just sent him an email and couriered the documents for him to sign. And he would have signed them, no questions asked.

He sat there remembering that look that had passed between them as they’d made love to each other, and he believed it that she was running away; the coward. She wanted to take their kids and flee the country because she’d bared every aspect of her life for the world to gawk at, and she had to go in order to be able to lick her wounds where no one would harass her again.

With a sickening feeling rising up from the pit of his stomach, he realized, with a shocking jolt, that he didn’t want her to go; she could not leave. She was

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his wife, and if she thought that a signature could destroy what they’d started going between them, then she was mistaken.

I have to stop her.

The words had screamed out at him from the pit of his consciousness, and those words galvanized him to action. He flew out of his chair and raced for the door as the intercom on the desk buzzed and the voice of his secretary was floating out from the speaker, announcing that the CEO of Animated Plastics was there to see him and should she buzz him in?

But he was racing for something else entirely, and the acquisition of more money was of no consequence to him at that particular moment other than the fact that he had something very precious to lose if he stayed back. He just hoped to God that Adamma was still in the vicinity.

He raced for the elevator and was in a pool of agony as the thing made its swift descent to the ground floor. As the doors dinged open, he raced out into the reception area and was aware of the eyes of his secretary on him as he raced out through the entrance doors. Then he stopped short when he reached the car park. What car did that woman drive?

He looked around, and then he raced for the street as the dust swirled all around him with the fury of the heavens unleashed on the earth. Just as he caught sight of her, the rain started coming down in icy sprays that would have had him rushing for shelter but for the fact that he was racing for his life.

‘Adamma!’ he yelled over the loud raucous of the rain and the wind as he broke once again into a run in order to catch up with her. She was getting into the car already, and he called her name louder and harder as his legs pumped against the concrete with the surge of adrenalin. And then he felt her stiffen and turn towards him; their eyes met and held. The wind and the rain beat at her mercilessly, her hair now a mess of disarray atop her head as she watched him.

‘Wait! We have to talk!’ Obinna called; though he was quite sure that she hadn’t heard him.

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They were locked together in a battle of wills, their eyes glued together; he was unaware that he was getting into the road without looking to the right and to the left to ensure that the crazy drivers of Lagos wouldn’t knock him to the ground. Adamma’s lips curled into a smile as she straightened up, her eyes searching his face. He was racing towards her to tell her something very important, and that was when it happened.

One moment he was in the middle of the road, racing towards his wife; the next moment he heard the sound of a horn blare at him, and then he felt the excruciating pain tear through him as something made contact with his bones.

Then he was flying through space; his body crashed down to the concrete hard.

As if through a dream he heard the screams, and the pain was unbearable, and the last thing he saw before he was enveloped by the fog of darkness was his wife’s face as their eyes met and held once again.

Everything went black.

CHAPTER TWENTY

It was as if everything was happening through a fog, or a timeless dream in which he was never going to awaken from. He felt completely weighted down, as if he had no control over his body, and his senses were reeling. His nostrils caught the smell of disinfectant, and there were voices speaking in his ears, like mosquitoes buzzing around a potential meal for the night. Everything seemed to be surreal, and he was aware of sleep and half-lucid moments of consciousness; and then the sharp prick of pain in his veins.

He was in a chasm between dream and reality, and then he finally opened his eyes. The first facts that’s registered in his mind was the fact that the light was too bright, and they hurt his eyes, and that he didn’t like the smell of sterility and cleanliness that suffused his nostrils.

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Where was he? Ah, yes, the smell made it out to be a hospital room, and there was this annoying whiteness to everything that surely hurt his eyes. He tried to move his head, and he found that it was almost impossible for him to do so because something restrained his neck. But what had happened?

Out of the periphery of his vision he saw Adamma seated on a chair beside him, her face buried in the pages of Street Style, which had her photo on the cover. She looked stunning, without any artificial enhancements, dressed in a slim-fitting black gown that accentuated her lush feminine allure and brought out the lightness of her skin. She wore no jewels, and her hair had been brushed into her face so that she had to flip the thing away from her face as she gobbled up the fashion in the pages of her magazine.

As he looked at her, he felt a rush of tenderness at her, more than he’d ever felt for another human being. That she was here for him at this time was a blessing to him; he realized that now. She was too beautiful, too perfect for a jerk like him to have her. She was a goddess; the woman who had affected him more than any other person had ever done to him; she was his wedded whore, the mother of his children, and she was the love of his life. Yes, there was no other way to sum it up.

‘Adamma,’ he croaked.

She looked up, and the strands of hair fell into her face; she flipped them away in annoyance. ‘You’re awake,’ she said, her voice cool as she took in his body which was swaddled like an Egyptian mummy. ‘What made you do what you’d done? That was very stupid, you know.’

‘I had to see you and talk to you.’

‘Oh, really? And you also had to get your death-wish by having your ass smashed to pieces when you came running towards me like a lunatic. Why were you in such a rush, by the way?’

‘I love you,’ Obinna blurted out. ‘That was what I wanted to tell you. I had to stop you from leaving because I had the feeling that you were running away 245

from me for the last time and I’d never see you again if I’d let you go. I’d felt great panic that you were leaving, and there was the divorce papers you’d forced me to sign for you. You’d boxed me in, and I realized at that time that I was losing the only thing that mattered to me more than anything in the world. I had to start losing you in order to realize that you meant a lot to me.’ He relaxed back into the bed, thoroughly exhausted from that little speech.

Adamma put her magazine aside, lifted the glass of water beside her and lifted the glass to his lips. After he’d taken a little sip of the cool liquid, he gently pushed her hand away. ‘Thank you,’ he whispered.

Adamma smiled. ‘Oh, you now know how to be polite. God; you were really a big pig. You really were a bastard, do you know that? You thought I was some bitch you picked up off the streets and so you could treat me like trash. And now, you tell me you love me. Why are you telling me this now?’

‘I was losing you.’

‘You never lost me in the first instance,’ Adamma countered. Her eyes were as expressionless as a mask, and as hard. ‘I was always there to be swept off my feet by you, but you had to treat me like some kind of filthy bitch. It’s just like being Madonna or Cher; the point is that no matter what happened with them, they were always there; always. It was always about the power play for you, but you forgot that you had no power. I had all the power; I had it in my palms, and there was and there is no other woman in the world who can balance you out the way I do. I was made to whip you into shape, and there was no other way, no other alternatives.’

Then she seemed to remember something and stopped, her eyes widening at him. ‘What do you mean when you say you were losing me?’

‘Helen called me and was crying to me about the fact that you’d intended to steal them away from this country so that they’d never see me again. And then she told me that you loved me.’

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Adamma lifted one perfectly arched brow. ‘Helen told you that? Well, that girl is really a character. Well, she’d lied to you: I only intended to take them with me to Canada for a month and she had to call you and twist the story around. The little girl seems to be getting better at doing this conspiracy crap than I am. We were not going anywhere, and yet you tell me now that what she’d told you had made you to come rushing after me. How apropos.’

‘But I really do love you. I know I was a bitch to you, but I want to make amends. Please.’ He reached out to her, but she seemed so far away from him, seated with regal comfort on that uncomfortable hospital chair.

She shifted the chair closer, and he held her hand and looked up into her eyes. God, he could drown in those eyes and die without really knowing what had killed him. How could he have been so blind? She had been there all along, and all he’d wanted was to dominate her; that had been his stupidest mistake.

‘I love you,’ he confessed again through parched throat, and the words felt right with each moment he said it to her. ‘We could start all over again now that I’ve come to my senses. Please, dear.’ He rubbed her knuckles as she stared off into space.

She continued staring at a spot beyond the bed, her eyes almost hooded, her face a mask of serenity. She was lost in thought, and then she finally looked at him and the smile on her face was one of pure enjoyment. ‘When that car hit you and you fell to the ground, I thought to myself that the stupid man had acted really crazy again,’ she said in a low voice, as if she was talking to someone who was close to her ear. ‘I hurried over to you, and I had to lift you and carry you over to my car as the woman who’d knocked you down was still in a state of shock. The woman rode with you in the back of the car, but I had to refuse her offer to help me carry you up here. The hospital staff was shocked to see you slung over my shoulder like some Gucci carry-on. It was hilarious.’

She broke off her narrative and looked at him, and this time, there was a touch of sadness in the eyes that were looking into his. She then burst out 247

laughing. ‘It was a shock for the doctor on duty to see me drop you down on the floor and calmly call for help to them that you had to have the needed attention from them or you’ll die. You broke two ribs, dislocated your right shoulder, and there was a concussion. So in effect you’ve been on and off consciousness for the past three days; that means that you have no idea what you’re talking about.

You’re delusional.’

Obinna held her hand and squeezed, though he felt a little too weak for the pressure needed to hold he. ‘No; I can’t be delusional. I know what I’m saying to you. I love you, and I can still say it again if you still want me to.’

Adamma snorted. ‘And when did you discover that you did love me?’

‘Deep in my mind I’d always known, but there was something that kept me from really acknowledging it. I knew that you were the woman for me, but the thing there was that we had always been at each other’s necks, and the fire was there to burn to burn us and scorch us. Though, we had our moments, of course.’

They laughed together as the memories flooded in, and then they became serious once again. ‘We definitely had our moments, and as I stood there staring at you, with the rain beating down at you, I knew that there was no way in the world in which I could ever let you go. We have a lot going on, and there was no way in the world that the bloody divorce papers which we’d signed was going to take that away from us.’

Adamma was nodding slowly, but her eyes remained fixed on the spot beyond the bed where she was looking at. When she spoke her voice remained low, serene. ‘Those papers we’d signed were rubbish; I never intended to do anything with them. I just had to get you to sign them so that you could feel the nail coming down on you. Then the sex was just a ploy to see if you really could just let me go like that, and if you could just sleep with me, and look me in the eye, and not come after me to tell me not to go, then it meant that our life together was over. But even if it was over, no other woman in the world would 248

have been good for you. None other than me would have been the perfect match for you. I know you more than any other person does in this world; we round each other out. You would have been miserable with another woman. That much is obvious to me. When you’d fucked that Della woman, did you really enjoy her? Did she satisfy you?’

Obinna laughed mirthlessly. ‘What is this? Twenty questions?’

Adamma glared at him, and her eyes were icy cold. ‘Just answer the bloody question.’

He looked her squarely in the eyes without blinking. ‘No, I did not enjoy the bitch because I never fucked her. From the moment I married you I steered clear of them because no other woman could compare to you. You were great in bed_ still the best lay I ever had. So why should I bother to go to that harebrained fool when you were there all along. All I did with the moron was to flirt just to make you jealous the way you made me jealous with all those bloody fools who were all hanging all over you like a bad smell. That was the only way I knew to make you jealous the way you always made me whenever you smiled at some idiot I knew I was better than in every way.’

‘Those fools were the ones that helped to push my career forward for me and there was no way in which I could just isolate them or stopped being nice to them simply because of the fact that I was your wife,’ she explained gently.

‘They could help to help make me or to destroy me. So there, you have your answer.’

They looked at each other, and there was an evaluative moment as they weighed what the other had said. Then Obinna cleared his throat, though it came out more as a rasp than what he’d intended originally to do.

‘So we’re clear on that now, aren’t we?’ he asked her, but she wasn’t even bothered to give him a look in reply. He remembered something she’d said and frowned. ‘What do you mean by that you weren’t intending to do anything with the documents we’d signed?’

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‘Just what I said,’ she replied simply, and her eyes bored into him. ‘I never intended to divorce you; I just had to make you see that you were stupid to let me go. If you’d wanted our marriage to end then you’d have to file the papers yourself. I just wanted to take them and chuck the bloody things in one of the safes in my house. That would have been the end of it for me.’

‘And why’s that?’

Adamma threw her hands up in annoyance, and her eyes were blazing with a cold fury that seemed to burn from her very sockets as she fixed her husband with a basilisk glare that would have wilted the roses in the morning. ‘Because I love you, you fucking idiot! I love you more than I love any other thing in this bloody world!’

Obinna was dumbfounded. ‘And yet you were ready to end our marriage?

What, are you some kind of masochist?’

‘Whatever!’ she snapped. ‘When your bloody mother threw me out of the house, I knew that I loved you very much, but what could I do about it?

Absolutely nothing! I had to leave, and I had to keep my mouth shut or else you’d twist my heart out with your stupid arrogance. And what could I have done? I was your bloody whore!’ and this time the word whore erupted from her mouth in a furious hiss of fury. ‘You treated me like some bloody whore! And what was I to you more than that? Nothing! So now, tell me why I shouldn’t end the bloody marriage? Tell me!’

‘I am sorry.’

Adamma laughed, but the bitterness in her voice was so evident that Obinna almost shrank back into the bed. He had never seen his wife this mad since the time he’d known her.

‘You are sorry? You . . . are . . . sorry? Is that all you have to think of the ways in which you’d treated me when we were together?’ She was livid. ‘You are a fool, and I can never fathom why I fell in love with you. But there it is: I love you, and if that is what you want to hear, then you’ve heard it. But know it 250

that you will never treat me like a piece of trash again in your whole life; I won’t let you. And do you know why? The divorce; we will file those damn papers and put an end to our sham of a marriage. Is that clear?’

Obinna looked at her calmly with the same serenity she’d exuded to put him at a discomfiture. ‘It’s not clear, and the reason is because we love each other, and since we love each other, then we simply just can’t start putting our marriage to an end when what we have to be doing is to go about finding a way in which to rebuild the foundations of our marriage_’ ‘Which was never really there in the first place,’ Adamma finished for him.

She thought for a moment, and then the tears appeared in her eyes, misting her vision so that she was seeing Obinna and his white hospital wrappings through a mist. There was a feeling of great pain in her chest, and the feeling was exacerbated by the fact that what she’d always wanted for her life had been granted to her and there was no way in the world for her to know that he was saying the truth about his feelings for her except for her to take his words for it the way he’d said it to her. But somehow, in the deep recesses of her heart, she knew. He was saying the truth just the way it came to him at that moment that they were talking about their life.

‘I remember my parents vividly, just as if the last time I’d seen them was yesterday,’ she continued, and the calm had returned to her voice. ‘They had been so much in love with each other, and their love had been so transparent it was obvious to all who knew them that the way they felt about each other had been real. I had wanted to be like them, and in the old days I used to read all those small fairy tales and say to myself that my husband would treat me the way my dad treated my mother. But that was before life happened.’ She smiled.

Obinna watched her as the tears flowed from her eyes, and he knew that the topic of her parents was a sore in her heart that had refused to heal in spite of the fact that several years had passed since her parents were killed in the car crash that took their lives.

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And he knew that he loved this woman from the very depths of his heart, more than the very air he breathed in. How could he have been so stupid all these years without seeing the very best thing that had happened to him since he was born?

‘I’ll make it up to you in whatever way you want me to,’ he told her. ‘What really matters is that I’ve gotten you back with me and there is nothing else that can happen that will ever change that fact. In my heart there’ll always be a space for you for all my life. Come back to me, and we’ll be the very best friends that you can think of. Just say yes. I never really had anything to do with Della, as I’m sure you’ve had nothing to do with that Dan guy, so we’re even.’

‘We’re not even. Dan was and is and will always be the very best friend I have in my life. I love him the way I love myself, and the reason is because of the fact that he did something for me which no other man in the world did for me. You can’t be jealous of him because there’s nothing going on between us; there never was. You were the only person who had me for as long as we were together, but then you had to spoil everything by being such a bitch.’

They laughed together, and it was the very first genuine laugh they’d shared for a very long time. Adamma still had those tears in her eyes, and it made her look somewhat ethereal; Obinna wanted to kiss those tears off her lids and swear to her that she’d never shed them again for as long as he was there to protect her. But as it was, he was battered, with his body wrapped in bandages so he couldn’t even move a muscle. Still, he raised his hand slowly, aware of the pain that knifed through him, and wiped those tears in her eyes. They felt moist in his fingers, and he brought them to his lips.

‘Now, you mustn’t cry,’ he begged. ‘It’s useless for you to cry. The point is that we’re back together.’

She then broke into real sobs, and there were those giant tears flowing from her eyes and running down her cheeks, and he felt within him that he’d never seen her so soft and so human, or even more beautiful. The tears really softened 252

her, gave her a human, down-to-earth look that transformed her from the unquestionable screen goddess she was to a stunning woman of great beauty, the type the knights of the olden times were always ready to slay dragons for and rescue from all sorts of imaginable dangers even at the expense of their own lives.

She was crying, but she was leaning towards him, and the sweet rosy fragrance of her shampoo wafted into his nostrils as her hair brushed at his nose she laid her head on his chest and he stroked the soft tresses of her natural dark hair. He was happy at the closeness of her body to his, at the fact that she was now with him, that they could not be separated again.

‘Ah, what a lovely picture you both make.’

Adamma drew herself up immediately, her head twisting to see her daughter standing framed in the doorway of the room, a cup of chocolate ice cream in one hand. She was smiling with an angelic radiance. She said: ‘I told my silly brother that you guys were together again and he said I was joking.

Now he’s lost the bet, and I’ll eat his share of the daily morning pancakes for a week. I won.’

Adamma laughed at the antics of her incredibly resourceful daughter, knowing that the girl wasn’t bluffing. If she said that she’d eat the morning pancakes all by herself for a week, then she would. ‘Helen, my love, come here.’ She stretched out her hands to the girl.

Helen lifted one brow in perfect imitation of her mother. ‘And risk catching a germ from that bed? No way.’ She shook her head. ‘Dad, I’m comfortable here, so if it’s ok with you, then I’ll just chill out here by the door and eat my food.’

‘That’s junk,’ Adamma pointed out.

The girl shrugged. ‘Whatever. As long as I get to beat Ian at Scrabble and eat my morning vegetables dutifully, then I get to eat my junk at least once in

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three days. We had a deal.’ She wagged one finger at the bed. ‘And you won’t break it. I love you for saying yes.’

They all burst out laughing though Obinna could only manage a small smile because of the pain in his ribs before Helen walked towards the bed and climbed in beside her father.

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EPILOGUE One year later Adamma stood at the balcony overlooking the veranda of the master bedroom, lost in thought. She could hear the sound the twins were making as they bickered as usual over who was right in whatever silly game they were playing in the hall. She just wished they’d keep their noise down, though she knew she’d run mad if they went on radio silence; they were the reason for her existence.

She then turned back into the room and caught sight of her reflection in the mirror. She looked fine; though she was sure she’d lost some of her muscle tone after her pregnancy and the rigors of the labor room. But thanks to her husband who had kept her on her toes and the routines he undertook with her so she could get back her killer body and be ready for public work within five weeks after childbirth, she looked better than she’d looked a month ago when she’d considered herself too bloated to be beautiful anymore.

‘You look sexy,’ Obinna always told her. ‘I love the way you look pregnant than in everyday life.’

‘You lucky devil,’ she’d said. ‘You can afford to mock me.’ But her heart had swelled with pride that the handsome devil really loved her and made her aware of that fact at every waking moment. That he was a handsome man was only too evident from the looks he garnered from the women they ran into, though he had eyes only for her and made it plain to her every day they were 255

together. And he was really great; he was fun. That was one aspect of the new him that had her heart swelling up with pride and joy whenever she went out and remembered that she had to return home to him.

‘Honey, are you all right?’

She whirled round, and there stood Obinna, dressed casually in denim and a plain white shirt, looking tall and magnetic and sexy as hell. He looked good enough to eat right there.

‘I am,’ Adamma replied as she leaned in for his kiss. ‘I was just lost in thought. Are the photographers from the Daily Telegraph ready?’

‘They can’t wait to see the twins. Andrew is as fussy as a needy chick while Andrea is lying contentedly in her crib, her eyes blinking at her older siblings in a show of queenly coolness. She really will take after Helen, which means that they both take after you, but the boys are me to the core. Shall we?’

They went out to the new nursery, and while Adamma bent over and retrieved the otherworldly pretty daughter who had arrived two minutes before her brother, Obinna picked up Andrew in his large arms and they headed for the living room where the members of the press were waiting for them with baited breath. At the entrance to the living room they were joined by the older twins, Helen seemingly engrossed in a word puzzle in her head, Ian poking around with a Game boy. Together, they all marched in to see their visitors, as one family.

‘I love you,’ Obinna whispered into Adamma’s ear.

She smiled up at him and a flashbulb went off. ‘I love you more,’ she replied.

THE END.

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BOOKS BY UGOCHUKWU KINGSLEY ANI The Whore Eternal Series: The Wedded Whore Forbidden Woman Woman Other Books Sins of Men (unpublished) Trial of Angels (unpublished) The Bruno Calibur (unpublished)

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Read on for a sneak preview at the explosive continuation of The Whore Eternal Series

The blood saga from Ugochukwu Kingsley Ani Forbidden Woman The continuation of Adamma’s story; the spellbinding tale of a woman who is the most loved musician of her time, but whose past waits, like a coiled cobra, aiming to strike.

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Chapter One Reporters swarmed the court premises. It had promised to be a media circus from the very moment the news had first turned out into the media twenty-four hours ago. They all had their cameras ready, so that when the suspect stepped out for her arraignment, they would have a field day taking snapshots of her and her entourage when she appeared.

A glittering black Toyota Land Cruiser pulled into the court premises. It sped up to the courthouse and then slid smoothly to a halt. All eyes turned to the car. Obi Obiekwe stepped out of the car, looking as smooth and as chiseled as he always contrived to do whenever he stepped out in public and the reporters pounced on him.

‘One moment!’

‘Do you think that the court is going to grant your wife bail for what she had done?’

‘Will this affect your relationship with her?’

‘Are you going to leave her and choose between the other women in your life?’

And the barrage of questions continued mercilessly, the cameras flashing at him, but he blocked them away as if they were nothing more than an inconsequential attack of gnats on him, his Prada sunglasses masking his eyes against the mad flash of the lights on him. He escaped into the court, angry now more than ever. He wanted to make all this go away, but there was nothing that he could do now, for Adamma was a far bigger celebrity than anything he had ever imagined, and the media were eating this up all too raw.

He was here not because she had asked him to come to her － she would rather die than ask for his help in her life; she was that crazy－but because he wanted to lend her his presence, give the people something of the home front to see that she had her family firmly behind her in what she was doing.

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But God, why had she done? And with that beautiful face, that cool detachment that defied the whole world and dared all to oblivionďź?soon, they would call out for her head and that would contribute to the end of her.

He stepped into the gallery, his eyes scanning for a chair to sit on. He knew that his secretary had saved one for him because the entire court was filled up to the brim with spectators looking to see the queen fall from her high throne. It was her job to make sure that he got somewhere to sit on.

He saw his children seated together. He smiled at them but they maintained a collective straight face, particularly Helen, who wore a huge pair of glasses, though colorless.

He knew better than anyone that it was more than a fashion statement; she was wearing it to hide the bruises on her beautiful face. The bruises were there because he had failed to listen to her.

It was as if they were not seeing him at all, as if they were seeing through him rather than seeing him. And it hurt, like mad. But then, he couldn’t blame them; they had every right to think that it was all his fault.

He sighed, his heart beating faster at the thought that this girl was beginning to look more and more like her mother with the passage of each minute, each day, each week, and each passing year.

God help us all, he thought; for he knew that he had hurt them badly, and he deserved to be ostracized by them. But what he did not deserve was to be dragged into all this mess that was a criminal case, and against his wife no less!

She would be the end of him! **** A stampede arose as a motorcade of seven cars drove up to the courthouse. The Black Maria was in front, with two police cars right behind it. It ground to a halt dramatically, 260

drawing all eyes. The car doors slammed as the police officers and the men from the prison streamed out, guns drawn, faces clenched tautly. They formed a wall around the back of the Black Maria, and then the doors swung open.

Even before the sole occupant of the confined space came down, the cameras were already clicking away furiously, questions were being hauled out; Android phones with their recording software turned on were being thrust forward; bodies were being thrust forward, pressing towards the queen who had been hauled to the ground from her high pedestal. They all wanted to be the ones to capture whatever she had to say at this moment of her downfall.

Adamma jumped down from the back of the Black Maria, like an athlete who was going on an athletic meet, or as if she was springing out from a column of fire like she had once done on one of her tours around the continent. She was dressed in an orange jumpsuit that hung loosely on her frame, but which did nothing to hide the stunning shape behind. Her hair was black like night, the perfect color that accentuated the light color of her skin, flowing down freely past her shoulders. She wore no makeup, though her eyes were masked by huge Prada shades. The shades too were to cover the bruises and the angry red marks that marred her face. The officers surrounded her as she hurried forward, their prisoner.

She moved speedily, and though there were microphones all around with an avalanche of of questions descending on her, she gave it all no heed, cat-walking towards the court doors as if she owned it, as if the whole world was hers to command and there was nothing that could be done to her, queen and all. And all these were captured by live cameras, with the broadcast spreading throughout the whole country immediately and also to the whole world that cared to watch.

It was the beginning of a circus, a media gossip circus that had set the country ablaze.

She had caused a serious raucous, what with her being dressed in prison garb and all, with the handcuffs chained to her wrists, and she looking hot and not giving a hot-darn about it all.

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However, it was the charges that they had against her that had caused many people to take sick leaves from their bosses. **** The entire court rose to its feet as Judge Abubakar Ahmed came in. He was a slim man in his late fifties, with a head full of grey hair, and a long, chiseled face that often displayed a blankness that lawyers and litigants found intimidating.

The man took the bench, the court sat, and the clerk called the first matter for the day: THE

STATE

OF

LAGOS

VERSUS

ADAMMA

OBIEKWE,

SUIT

NUMBER

SHC/12/123/2019. The senior state counsel from the office of the Attorney General announced appearance for the prosecution while Mr. Afolayan Oluwatowo SAN, announced appearance for the accused person.

‘Is the accused person here in court today?’ the Judge asked, then he spared a small smile. ‘It is absurd for me to be asking that question, because the accused is the reason why the press are outside in full force. I must warn you all to avoid fueling this issue; do not let this be a media circus.’

‘My Lord, I am applying for the bail of my client, on her own recognizance, as she is one of the most popular public figures we have, and she is going nowhere,’ Afolayan Oluwatowo said to My Lord, as he adjusted his heavy, expensive gown.

‘My Lord, I object to this!’ State Counsel snapped as he rushed to his feet, his bulk almost making the undertaking a difficult fit to achieve. But he managed it－barely though－ for the purpose of the spectators. ‘Due to the gravity of the offense － which is a capital offense－I would advise My Lord to make the accused show cause as to why bail should be granted. She should remain in prison, as it is my belief that she will jump bail or do something to influence the evidence and the witnesses in this trial. She has the high standing and the money to do so.’

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‘My Lord, this is absurd!’ Adamma’s high-priced lawyer snapped. ‘My client was arrested for a crime no one is certain she committed, and I had to insist on bringing down the crushing weight of the constitution on the prosecution for a speedy arraignment before this honorable court before he complied. To add insult to injury, my client was fettered － handcuffed like a criminal－before being brought to the court. This goes against the spirit of the 1999 constitution of the Federal Republic of Nigeria which makes the express provision under Section 36 that－’ ‘We know the provision of the constitution, thank you,’ My Lord chipped in, cutting the rocket-fast outpourings of the learned counsel short. Then he turned his eyes to the stunning accused woman, and he was shocked to see that she had been handcuffed like the man had said; she even raised her hands for him to see it, with that dazzling smile on her perfect little mouth.

Angrily, his eyes swiveled in the direction of the prosecutor who now looked like some mouse with his hand caught red-handed in the cookie jar. He knew that this piece of information was being forwarded out of the courtroom by some persons who were working in collaboration with the press outside. He could even see one or two people with their hands hidden under their chairs, pressing away at the speed of light, dispensing information to those outside.

That information being dispensed outside, will, in turn, be sent over to the news people, and by extension, the whole country. This was the kind of media nightmare case he had always tried to avoid throughout the long duration of his career.

He banged his gavel down hard. ‘Now listen! I will not tolerate this nonsense－people disturbing the peace and the tranquility of this court. If I get you pressing your phones, I will haul you into my jail for contempt, and there, you will continue to ping your mates outside.

Now, away with the phones!’

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Learned trial judge then swiveled to the State Counsel, his eyes flashing daggers at him. ‘Why is the accused handcuffed in my court? Was there any reason why this was so?

Did the officers have any cause to believe that the accused would do anything to disrupt the proceedings? Did she in any way try to do something to show that she had to be brought here before the court fettered?’

The prosecuting counsel looked like he was planning to have some kind of heart attack. His fleshy face had almost turned purple, the veins popping out all over his forehead, his plump lips drawn taut.

‘My Lord, there was . . .’ he began, and then he trailed off, his eyes darting about, as if trying to decide who to settle on. They finally settled on the officers like laser beams. If eyes could kill, they would have died a hundred times over.

‘I order that the accused be unfettered instantly!’ My Lord snapped. ‘She is to be released on bail which I set to the amount of five million naira.’ He turned his eyes over to the accused who looked back at him without flinching, her face utterly serene and calm. ‘You are not to leave Lagos at any time, for whatever reason; if you do so, then your bail will be revoked and I will have you thrown back into prison until the entire trial is over.’

Looking back to the two opposing counsel, he continued. ‘I wish to adjourn this matter for the soonest available time so that the accused will have the time to put together her defense. Pick a date, please.’

The two robed lawyers hurdled together.While the prosecuting counsel pulled out his court diary, Mr. Afolayan Oluwatowo SAN, pulled out a sleek iPad and clicked through the screen of the device. They spoke in hushed tones for a few moments, and then told My Lord the date that would be most convenient for them, to which he agreed to.

‘The matter is hereby adjourned!’ My Lord banged his gavel down on the desk, before he ordered the court clerk to call the next case on the cause list of the court. He had a 264

lot to attend to right now, and he hated the drama that was associated with this woman that was here now to mess up the order of his life.

But he would have loved to have a better view at this woman, this wrecker that had done more than her own share of harm and good to the world. He had never seen her before now, but he knew of her－who didn’t?－and what he had seen had really captivated him. Up close, she was even more magnificent than the screens had made her appear. It was not as if she was the most beautiful woman ever.

No, it went more than that. There was the air of unchallenged mystery and regal queenly aloofness that emanated from her, as if she thought that she had the whole world in her grasp and there was nothing that anyone could do about it ever.

Then he remembered the charges that they had brought against her and a shiver traveled up his spine. If she was capable of all these, what then couldn’t she do?

This was just the beginning, that there was still more to come in the future.

He was right, but then he wondered where it had all gone wrong for her. She had it all: fame, fortune, a family that she had held together through the roughest of times, and now this.

What had gone wrong with her life? For something had happened to her; something that had changed the fabric of her thinking and rendered her capable of doing what she had done.

What was it? What had caused the other shoe to drop?

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR Ugochukwu Kingsley Ani is a Nigerian author and legal practitioner. He is the author of numerous short stories, the books in the Whore Eternal book series, and numerous articles on Law and Literature. He lives in Lagos, Nigeria, and can be reached via mail on aniugochukwu@gmail.com If you had liked the work, then you can drop a review on Goodreads and the other retailers bearing it.

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