Chapter 128 BOOK 2: CHAPTER 18

Chapter 128 BOOK 2: CHAPTER 18
—Amira—
A flint of anger sparked inside me.
He was enjoying pulling the carpet under my feet every time. And I couldn't believe I fell for his tricks again.
Oh, who said I couldn't play the game too?
A reticent smile played on my lips as I straightened from his desk. I smoothed my dress and nodded.
”Yes sir,” I mumbled.
Turning on my heels, I walked out of his office.
Soon enough, he’d learn that ninety-nine days belong to the thief—but one day always belongs to the owner.

.   .   .    .   .
—Nathaniel—
It all started a few nights ago when she arrived at the banquet. My heart had stopped beating and the world stood at a standstill.
I slipped my hands into my pockets and watched as the cameras flashed on her from the press barricade. Exhaling, I excused myself from the group and started walking toward her, hating how my heart pounded so fast.
I wasn't supposed to feel attracted to the woman who broke my heart.
“Ms. Nwosu,” I called.
We exchanged pleasantries and headed inside. I’d never felt so proud with her by my side.
An applause rang across the room as I rounded up my speech. We settled down for dinner, and that was when I chose to tease her, holding her gaze as I sipped my drink.
I watched heat creep in her cheeks and when she looked away, I pulled out my phone and dismissed her chauffeur.
Then I asked her for a dance.
The music played as we swayed across the dance floor.
It was a simple dance, yet the soft pressure of her body set every nerve in my body aflame.
I gave her a lift home.
Just as we neared her home, I leaned forward and picked up her bag from the floor.
“You dropped this.”
Of course, she thought I was going to kiss her. Her cheeks burned and she didn't spare a glance my way again, not even when we pulled up before her house.
More than anything, I wanted to go after her. But I reminded myself how she rejected me and chose the money.
My phone lit up. An email from the office of Mr. President.
Throughout the meeting the next day, my thoughts kept drifting to Amira.
It wasn’t until the meeting wrapped up that I remembered the invitation a junior janitor had slipped into my hand the previous day. When I checked the invitation, Amira was already headed there.
The party paused for fleeting seconds as I walked in. But I scanned the room until my eyes locked on hers.
Everything was going fine, then a junior staff decided to humiliate me, asking Amira for a dance— and she accepted.
I stared furiously as they danced.
“Excuse me, sir,” someone said. I looked up to find Grace standing in front of me. “I–I was wondering if you would like to dance with me.”
My eyes drifted to Amira, still dancing with her partner. “If you insist.”
We stepped on the dance floor and swayed, all eyes trailing us. It was most satisfying seeing the jealousy in Amira's eyes before she rested her head on his shoulder.
Why did she have to rest her head on his shoulder?
More than anything, I wanted to switch—Grace for Amira. But I’d learned long ago that rushing only exposed what should stay hidden
One wrong step now would cost me more than pride.
That night, as she slipped in the bathroom to answer a call, I dismissed her chauffeur.
When she headed out, I trailed after her.
“You did this yesterday—and today,” she accused before throwing a single question that cornered me.
I stilled, the smirk vanishing from my lips. “No, I'm not torturing you.”
At last, she let me lift her home, that was when my defenses crumbled. I burned as she hungrily sucked on my thumb. Memories of us tangled in the sheets in D.C flooded my head, and hardened shamelessly.
She sat there, wide-eyed and innocent, oblivious to how she was unraveling me.
It wasn't until she stepped out of the car that I regained my senses.
Exhaling, I watched her stride into the hospital before turning to the cars' intercom. “Let's head home,” I instructed.
We melted into the streets of Port Harcourt, and my phone rang. Damian.
“Hello, brother,” I answered.
“Thanks to the paparazzi, I saw your photos with your new PA. You look like the perfect couple,” he teased.
“Is that why you called?”
“No, I called to check on my brother.”
I exhaled. “The weather here is killing me, but otherwise, everything's fine. We're making progress with the government.”
“Have you fallen in love with her?”
“Damian.”
“I just want to know the truth.”
“I haven't,” I lied. “Are you okay now?”
He laughed. “I don't trust you. I–I don't know why but I don't, Nate.”
“Then bye.” I ended the call and glanced across the window, smiling.
Then I texted the head of my security— ‘Find out what's wrong with Amira's grandmother.’
The next day at the office, I was going through some files when my phone rang. Amira.
“Sir, Grace is here to see you. Said she has something to give you.”
Grace. The same woman I danced with last night. What could she want?
Curiosity flicked through me.
“Okay. Send her in,” I said.
The doors parted and Grace walked in, a small box in her hands.
“Good morning, sir.” She smiled.
“Hello, Grace,” I mumbled.
She gestured at one of the chairs in front of my desk. “May I sit?”
“Sure.”
She sat down, then placed the box on the table. “I made this for you.” She opened it and my eyes fell on some cupcakes.
I blinked. “They look delicious.”
“They are,” she replied, closing the box again and gently shoving it toward me.
“Thank you,” I said dismissively, but she didn't leave. Instead she fed me stories about her family, when she started working in the company— and so forth.
At some point, she crossed her legs, the single movement revealing her thighs.
Would it be rude to fire someone who just brought me cupcakes?
She picked up the photo frame on my desk. The very one Amira broke.
“Are you related?”
“They're my siblings. We're triplets.”
“Oh, really?”
She gasped, but the glint in her eyes told me she wasn’t truly surprised.
I glanced at my wristwatch. It was already past break time.
My jaw tightened. “I think this meeting has run its course, Grace. You should get back to your desk.”
She nodded and stood, professionalism settling over hers.
Just as Grace headed out, Amira approached. I'd never been so relieved to see someone. Except, I caught the subtle way which she looked at Grace.
But when I confronted Amira, she denied it.
Silence. Then I stood and rounded my desk.
That brought us to the lesson of the day: teaching her to admit her feelings.
Her soft skin and moans reminded me of that night in D.C.
I burned as my hands slid beneath her legs.
When my fingers slipped under her panties, my breath caught. She was so wet—so ready for me.
Damnit.
The tightness in my pants increased.
“Please,” she begged. She wanted it.
I wanted it too. But if I gave in now, the lesson wouldn't be achieved.
It took so much will to break away from her and round my desk. More than anything, I wanted to walk back to her while she was still bent over my desk, and fill her dripping core to the very last inch.
“Get back to work, Amira,” I said.
I couldn't focus on work anymore.
At home, I stood under the cold shower far longer than normal, jaw clenched and hands braced against the tile.
I threw on a bathrobe and headed to the mansion’s gym.
But neither the treadmill, the weights, nor the punching bag could erase her scent, her moans… her soft skin.
I woke up hard in the middle of the night and almost texted her.
Fvck!!
Tossing and turning in bed, I watched daybreak arrive.
I couldn't believe I'd slipped a condom into my pocket as I dressed for work.
The morning sun filtered through the windshield as my convoy eased into Allwell facility. Amira stood in the lobby, a tablet in hand. Dressed in a sheer long-sleeved blouse and high-waisted midi skirt.
Stepping out of the car, I adjusted my cuffs, and approached her.
“Good morning, sir,” she greeted.
“What's today's update?”
“You have a meeting with the engineers by 10 a.m., a flight inspection by noon, and a briefing with the design team at 2 p.m.”
“Thank you,” I mumbled, and headed inside.
Time dragged. I drummed my fingers on my desk through the first meeting, took mental notes during the flight inspection, and tried to focus during the briefing—but her memory kept creeping in.
At exactly 4 p.m., I rounded up the briefing and headed back to my office.
“Ms. Nwosu. May I see you for a moment, please,” I said into the intercom, and leaned back in my chair.
Then I recalled her sudden coldness this morning.
The doors parted and she walked into the room.
“Sir?”
I pressed the door lock on my table and beckoned her closer.
She moved—just like a good girl—and sat on my legs.
“Do you miss me?” I husked.
No words. She simply nodded, eyes locked on my lips.
My eyes darkened as I held her face.
“I want you,” I whispered. “No more waiting. Leave if you don't.”
She wrapped her arms around my neck. “I'm yours.”
Relief and hunger surged through me as I pulled her closer until my lips claimed hers.
The world floated away...
Our lips moved, dissolved and met again.
My hands roamed her waist and back, committing every curve to memory.
She pulled back and traced kisses to my neck, then unbuttoned my shirt. I swallowed a groan as she licked my chest and stomach, then cupped the hardness between my legs.
“Fvck!” I gasped.
“Do you like this?” she slurred.
I nodded. “You're incredible.”
Somehow, she found the curve of my dick beneath my pants and stroked from crown to shaft.
My stomach tightened.
Just as my body tensed—ready to lose control, Amira shot back.
“What's it?”
“This is what happens when you tease a woman and leave her dry,” she said.
A smirk curved her lips as she unlocked the doors and strode out of my office, leaving me breathless and undone.
What the hell just happened?