DARA'S POV
If feelings had shame, mine clearly didn't.
Because after the rooftop almost-moment with Kamsi, my chest behaved like it ordered emotions from Jumia and they delivered express.
I told myself:
It was just the wind.
It was just the atmosphere.
But the truth?
Nothing about that moment felt contractual.
For the next two days, I avoided him like he carried spiritual wahala.
Which was hard.
Because he was my boss.
And his office was the size of my entire apartment and yet somehow, he still found ways to appear in my line of vision.
Every.
Single.
Time.
By Friday afternoon, HR announced a small "welcome-the-investors" cocktail on the 15th floor.
Great.
More pretending.
More waist-holding.
More heart palpitations.
I wore a simple emerald dress that hugged my body just enough to make me look intentional, not desperate.
My sister had insisted:
"Dress like you don't know he's fine. Confuse him."
I was still carrying that advice when I walked into the event
and saw her.
Tall.
Slim.
Immaculate wig.
Diamond earrings that whispered "my father owns three oil blocks."
And she was practically glued to Kamsi's arm.
Her laugh was loud.
Her hand was on his shoulder.
Her eyes were sparkling like she wanted him as a side dish.
I paused by the doorway, heart dropping to my toes.
Kamsi was too composed smiling politely, nodding, listening.
He didn't push her away.
He didn't pull his arm back.
He just stood there letting her exist too close.
My stomach twisted.
I reminded myself:
You're acting.
You're paid.
You're temporary.
You're not supposed to care.
So explain, please
WHY did jealousy crawl into my lungs like it paid rent?
Before I could decide whether to leave or fake a fainting spell, he finally saw me.
And everything about him changed.
His posture straightened.
His eyes sharpened.
His smile faded into something softer… warmer.
He excused himself from Miss Diamond Earrings and walked toward me with slow, purposeful steps that stole every breath from my throat.
"Dara," he said quietly.
"You're late."
God, the way he said my name.
"Traffic," I lied.
It was my emotions that delayed me.
And before I could regain balance
his hand slid to my lower back.
Firm.
Familiar.
Dangerously natural.
"Come," he said. "We should greet the investors together."
Together.
Another word my body overreacted to.
As we walked deeper into the room, I felt eyes on us.
People whispering.
People measuring me.
People wondering how I landed a man like him.
But the worst part?
Miss Diamond Earrings was watching too
with a glare sharp enough to peel yam.
She approached again, plastering on a smile so fake it deserved an acting award.
"Kamsi, you didn't introduce us earlier," she said sweetly.
"And you know how I hate feeling left out."
Kamsi was polite.
Perfectly polite.
"This is Dara," he said.
"My fiancée."
Her smile twitched.
"Fiancée?" she repeated.
"Oh, that's… new."
"Very," Kamsi replied, voice flat and unreadable.
She looked at me then.
Really looked.
Judging everything from my dress to my shoes to the number of eyelashes I had on.
"So, Dara," she said, sugary poison dripping from her tone,
"What exactly do you do at BlackShield?"
Before I could answer, Kamsi's hand pressed gently into my back a silent warning, a silent reassurance.
I lifted my chin.
"I work in operations," I said. "I handle logistics and documentation."
Her brows rose.
"A contract staff?" she asked.
She said it like she expected me to dissolve on the spot.
Kamsi's voice turned cold enough to refrigerate pure water.
"Dara's position at BlackShield is not relevant to her position beside me."
Oh.
OH.
Miss Diamond Earrings was not amused.
"I see," she said, eyes narrowing.
"Interesting choice, Kamsi."
He smiled.
The dangerous kind.
The kind that translated to "exit the chat."
"I make my choices carefully," he replied.
"And deliberately."
She excused herself after that, but not before giving me one last look
the kind meant to tell me: You're not on his level.
Normally, I wouldn't care.
But seeing her touch him earlier made something ugly bloom inside me.
Once she disappeared into the crowd, I turned to him.
"You didn't have to say all that," I muttered.
"I could have handled it."
He looked at me.
"I know you could have," he said.
"But I wanted to."
My chest tightened.
My breath got stuck somewhere in the traffic jam of my emotions.
He leaned in slightly, voice low and rough around the edges.
"You were jealous."
My eyes widened. "No, I wasn't."
A slow smile curved his lips.
Lies offended him.
"Dara," he murmured,
"If you're going to deny it, at least don't blush while doing it."
I touched my cheeks.
They were warm.
"I wasn't jealous," I whispered again, weaker this time.
Kamsi tilted his head, studying me with that unreadable expression he used when analyzing mergers.
Then he leaned in close enough for his breath to brush my ear.
"Good," he whispered.
"Because I don't like sharing either."
My heart exploded into confetti.
This was not acting.
This was not in the contract.
This was not safe.
And yet…
I didn't step away.
Not even an inch.
KAMSI'S POV
Dara thinks she hides things well.
She doesn't.
Not from me.
Not anymore.
By the time the investors' cocktail rolled around, I had convinced myself firmly that the rooftop moment with her meant nothing.
A slip.
A mistake.
Heat of the night.
But when she walked into that room…
Emerald dress hugging her like it was tailored for her alone.
Eyes bright.
Lips slightly parted with uncertainty.
Every rational thought I had evaporated.
She wasn't just beautiful.
She was moreeee.
And that terrified me far more than any board member ever could.
Of course Angel spotted me first.
People like her always do
they orbit power, attention, spotlight.
She placed her hand on my arm in that familiar, annoying way.
I didn't shrug her off immediately; I'm a professional.
But inside, I was irritated.
Until I saw Dara freeze by the doorway.
Her eyes locked on Angel's hand.
And something hot, fierce, and entirely reckless unfurled in my chest.
Jealousy.
Sharp.
Immediate.
Possessive.
I didn't expect it.
Didn't welcome it.
But it came anyway, uninvited and unapologetic.
I excused myself from Angel, each step toward Dara quiet but deliberate.
Her posture was stiff.
Her smile polite, but thin.
She was jealous.
And I…
enjoyed it.
God help me.
When I reached her, I let my hand slide to her lower back,
not because the contract required it
but because I needed to feel her.
Needed the grounding.
Needed the reminder that she was here with me.
"Traffic?" she said.
Lie.
I knew it.
But I let it go.
She always tries to be stronger than she feels.
That's one of the first things I noticed about her.
Then Angel came asked and started asking questions.
Before Dara could respond, my patience snapped like weak thread.
"Dara's position at BlackShield is not relevant to her position beside me," I said.
Cold.
Sharp.
Intentional.
It wasn't planned.
It wasn't strategic.
It was instinct.
Protection.
Possession.
Something I had no right to feel.
I felt Dara tense, then relax slightly under my hand.
She heard the meaning behind my words.
She felt it.
Angel kept talking, testing, pushing
but I wasn't listening anymore.
I was focused on Dara.
The way she shifted closer to me unconsciously.
The way she held her breath when my thumb brushed her waist.
The way jealousy flickered across her face before she masked it.
When Angel finally walked away, I turned to Dara.
"You were jealous," I said before I could stop myself.
She denied it.
Of course she did.
She always denies the things I can see too clearly.
But her cheeks were warm.
Her breathing uneven.
Her body language loud enough to hear without words.
Denial meant nothing when her entire aura told the truth.
I leaned in
closer than necessary.
Close enough to feel her pulse trip beneath her skin.
"Good," I whispered.
"Because I don't like sharing either."
Truth.
Raw.
Unfiltered.
Reckless.
I shouldn't have said it.
But it felt too honest to swallow.
Then her eyes flicked up to mine
wide, vulnerable, burning.
In that moment, I knew we had crossed a line.
A line the contract warned us not to touch.
A line I no longer cared about.