DARA'S POV
If surviving the gala was a miracle, then surviving the car ride home with Kamsi sitting inches away from me deserved a national award.
The SUV felt too small.
Too quiet.
Too filled with the memory of his hand on my waist.
Every time the car hit a bump, our shoulders brushed
accidentally, but still enough for my pulse to lose focus.
He didn't speak.
He just sat there, staring out the window like Lagos night lights were giving him life advice.
Meanwhile, I was fighting for my own.
Finally, I cleared my throat.
"So… about tonight."
He turned his head slightly.
Just slightly.
Enough for his eyes to meet mine.
Dark. Steady. Unreadable.
"Yes?" he asked.
"Thank you," I said.
"For… handling chioma. For standing up for me."
His jaw tightened a little.
"I didn't do it for you."
Wow.
Ouch.
I nodded, trying to pretend it didn't hit somewhere under my ribs.
He continued, voice softer this time:
"I did it because she disrespected us.
And the contract only works if everyone believes in it."
I swallowed.
"Right. The contract."
The contract.
The pretense.
The reminder I didn't ask for.
Silence hung between us again
thick enough to chew.
When the SUV pulled into his penthouse driveway, he spoke before I could reach for the door.
"Walk with me."
It wasn't a request.
But it wasn't a command either.
It sounded like something in between
something almost… vulnerable.
I followed him up to the rooftop balcony.
The city glowed below us
buildings sparkling, cars honking in the distance, warm Lagos wind brushing my skin.
He stood by the railing, hands in his pockets, shoulders tense
like the weight of the entire company lived there.
"This merger," he said quietly, not looking at me,
"It means everything. Not just for the board. For my father's legacy."
I'd never heard him speak about his father.
Not even in passing.
I stepped closer.
"Legacy?"
He nodded slowly.
"He built BlackShield from nothing. People think wealth runs in the family. It doesn't. He clawed his way up. I'm trying to honor that."
Something in his voice cracked
so small most people would miss it.
But I didn't.
I saw it.
I felt it.
And suddenly…
he didn't seem like a billionaire CEO.
He seemed like a son trying not to fail the memory of the man who raised him.
For a moment, I forgot about the contract.
Forgot about the rules.
Forgot about everything except the softness in his voice.
"You're doing a good job," I whispered.
"Whether people say it or not."
His eyes lifted to mine.
And something shifted.
The air.
The tension.
The distance between us.
All of it changed.
He stepped closer
not touching me,
just standing close enough that my breath caught.
"How do you do that?" he asked.
"Do what?"
"Say the right thing without even trying."
I didn't have an answer.
I didn't even have normal oxygen at that point.
He reached up
slowly
like he was testing if he had the right to.
His fingers brushed a curl away from my cheek.
Soft.
Warm.
Dangerous.
My entire body lit up like someone plugged me into a generator.
"The rules...?" I whispered, even though my voice betrayed me.
His eyes dropped to my lips before returning to my eyes.
"He nodded."
Then why wasn't he stepping back?
Why wasn't I stepping back?
We stood there
two people tied together by a lie,
yet pulled together by something we couldn't explain.
Something real.
Something terrifying.
His hand close to my face
not touching,
just close enough for heat to travel.
"Dara…" he murmured.
My name never sounded like that before.
Never felt like that before.
I didn't trust myself to answer.
But before anything could happen,
before something unplanned could happen,
His phone rang.
We both jerked away from each other like we'd been caught committing a federal crime.
He swore under his breath.
I stepped back, heart in my throat.
"It's the board," he said, composing himself instantly.
"Excuse me."
He walked away
professional mask back in place
leaving me alone with the night wind and my racing heart.
When the door closed behind him, I exhaled shakily.
This was supposed to be acting.
Simple.
Controlled.
No emotions.
But tonight…
Nothing felt fake.
Absolutely nothing.
KAMSI'S POV
I didn't plan on bringing her to the balcony.
I didn't plan on anything tonight, actually.
Not the way Dara's eyes dimmed when I said I didn't defend her "for her."
Not the heat that crawled under my skin every time she looked at me like she was trying to figure me out.
I definitely didn't plan on the electricity in that car.
One month.
One contract.
That was all this was supposed to be.
But the moment I felt her breathing beside me in the SUV, steady and nervous at the same time…
something in my chest betrayed me.
I kept my eyes on the window just so I wouldn't do something stupid like reach for her hand.
She has no idea how close I came.
When we got back to the penthouse, I told myself to let her go home.
But when she turned toward the door, something in me snapped.
"Walk with me."
The words came out before I could stop them.
She followed me to the rooftop quiet, careful, unaware of the war happening inside me.
Lagos stretched beneath us bright, loud, alive.
Yet somehow… she was the only thing I noticed.
I talked about my father because…
I don't know.
Maybe because her presence felt safe.
Maybe because she didn't look at me like a CEO.
Maybe because she listened really listened like my pain wasn't an inconvenience.
When she said I was doing a good job, something in me shifted.
People praise my success daily.
Investors, partners, strangers.
But no one ever praises my effort.
My struggle.
My fear.
She did.
She didn't know that one sentence almost undid me.
"How do you do that?" I asked before I could catch myself.
I didn't expect an answer.
I didn't need one.
Because I already knew:
Dara Ezenwa was dangerous in all the wrong ways.
And in all the ways I liked too much.
She looked up at me eyes wide, unsure, soft and that's when I made my second mistake of the night.
I touched her.
Just a curl.
Just a brush.
But the moment my fingers grazed her cheek, my entire body reacted like I'd crossed a line I'd been wanting to cross for too long.
God, she felt warm.
Warm and real.
Warm and mine
No.
Not mine.
Not allowed.
"the rules," she whispered.
Her voice…
Shaky.
Breathy.
Too honest.
I looked at her lips for one heartbeat too long.
I shouldn't have.
yet my hand didn't drop.
Her breath hitched.
I felt it.
Heard it.
And for one reckless second, I considered kissing her.
Just once.
To see what her lips feel like.
To taste the truth hidden between us.
My heart wasn't pounding.
It was begging.
But then my phone rang, ripping the moment apart.
I swore not because of the call, but because I didn't want to stop.
"Excuse me," I managed, forcing my voice back into CEO mode.
As I walked away, I felt her still standing there
confused, breathless, pretending it meant nothing.
But I knew better.
Because for the first time since this entire mess began…
I didn't know where the acting stopped
and where the reality between us began.
And that terrified me more than anything.