

## The Sons of Zik Prequel: Pool Party

## Areta Nwosu
Areta Nwosu Copyright 2017

This book is a work of fiction by Areta Nwosu. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used solely for entertainment. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Thank you for downloading this free eBook. Feel free to share this book to friends, family and colleagues. Thank you for your support.
Swapping Stories

"Tell us a sexy story," Jon yelled.

"Umm..." Leke cocked his head, thinking. "Let's see... one of the female VPs at the teambuilding event begged me to impregnate her so she could have children who looked like me. Is that sexy enough for you?"

"Very," Jon said. "Did you say yes to the VP?"

Leke grinned and shook his head. "No."

Jon groaned and then added, "What will I do with you? Anyway, I have a sexy story of my own. I left two women fighting over me in my apartment."
About the Four Infamous Sons of Zik

One's engaged but refuses to set a wedding date. One deals with the fact that his brother's wife fancies him. One has two women fighting over him. One battles the temptation to cheat on his wife...

The four sons of Igwe Zik Achike are partying at the pool in the family estate.

Although Kurt Achike is engaged to Abomeli, he's still not sure she's the one.

Leke Achike flew in from Kenya to attend the party and support Kurt but instead ends up mediating in some family drama and conducting a unique job interview.

Jon Achike-Scott is on vacation and wants to have fun but his ex-wife, Valentina aka Sister Do Good, keeps nagging him and he can't stop thinking about an old flame.

Toke Achike believes he's reformed, no more cheating on his wife for him... until he sets his eyes on delectable Towumi, Abomeli's friend.

This party can't be a simple, boring event.

Not when Zik and his four sons are the hosts...
A Free Book for You!

She lied to him. He doesn't trust her. Now, five years and a torrid one-night stand later, they meet again...

The first time spirited private investigator, Nikita Luna bumps into Barak Jega again after a one-night stand five years ago, she's in five-inch heels, chasing after a thief.

What Barak doesn't know, however, is that she engineered the robbery as part of her plan to worm her way into her stepfather's life and find out if he was responsible for her mother's disappearance.

But the exotic-eyed supermodel, Barak, has his own troubles. His life could be in danger as a result of his extra-curricular activities as a woman's rights advocate.

Despite that, Barak is completely unprepared for this second meeting with Nikita. Because she lied to him the last time, he's reluctant to pursue the attraction between them.

Both Barak and Nikita are walking on dangerous paths and one of these paths will lead to tragedy...

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### Chapter 1

Kurt Achike lobbed a glance at his reflection in the mirrored wall on his right, taking in but not really registering his chocolate-brown Brioni suit, open-necked white shirt and tan shoes.

He yawned, for the third time since he'd come into this boutique with Abomeli. What was he doing here? Did they really need to be here, now? Did she really need more clothes? _Mist!_ It was just a simple dinner party, tomorrow night at his parent's estate. Nothing fancy. A simple dinner party to formally announce their engagement.

Kurt sighed. And Abomeli had chosen to buy a new gown and shoes for this simple party. A gown and shoes he was going to pay for. As usual...

Pulling his eyes from his reflection, Kurt stared down, at his hands linked on his laps. He'd made the right choice this time, hadn't he? She was great, she really was. She was nothing like his last fiancée, Grace. For one, she didn't bore him senseless. Though, now, sitting here in this half-empty shop, waiting for his fiancée who was trying on her eighth gown in the changing room, was driving him insane.

He had made his choice and he would have to stick with it. After ending six relationships and breaking off one engagement, he knew his mothers—both of them—were beginning to get worried.

Abomeli glided out of the changing room, in a sparkling olive-green silk dress with a V-neck top, a high waist and a knee-length A-line skirt. The green highlighted the fairness of her young unlined skin.

Kurt watched her walking toward him, a happy grin on those soft pink lips and his heart skipped. She was beautiful, with those big eyes, small mouth and slender body. That was one of the reasons he'd chosen her.

She whirled around, grinning. "Do you like this one?"

He smiled. Couldn't help it. "Yes, I do, darling."

"I like it too," Abomeli said. "I think this could be the one."

Kurt rolled his eyes, muttered, "Finally."

"Babes..."

"We've been here for hours."

She wrinkled her nose at him. "Not hours. Maybe an hour."

He shook his head. " _Nein_ , it's been hours. We need to get going. Mom and Dad are waiting. And we're supposed to be the guests of honour at tonight's pool party."

"I know, I know, babes."

"And we should be there earlier than my brothers."

Abomeli scowled. "I know. We'll leave soon."

Kurt took in a deep breath and then murmured, "I don't know why you need another dress. You have hundreds."

She planted her hands on her silk-covered hips. "I need another gown. Tomorrow night is a special occasion. Tomorrow night we tell the world that we're engaged. How can that not be worthy of a new outfit?"

_One I have to pay for—again._ He waved a hand at her. "Look, let's not waste more time talking about this. Go in and change. We'll get this. This is fine. This is perfect."

"You're sure, babes?"

He bobbed his head impatiently. "Yes, yes, I'm sure. Go!"

Abomeli scampered back into the changing room.

In the left pocket of his jacket, his phone trilled. Kurt drew it out and answered.

"Kurt..." the voice, a man's Yoruba-accented voice, said.

Kurt sighed. "Sesan, what's happening?"

"You ought to tell me, Kurt Achike."

"And why is that?"

Sesan's voice rose, just a tiny bit. "I thought we were friends—"

Kurt sank back into the plush leather armchair. "We're not friends. You're a blogger who writes stories about me and my family."

"Correction: a blogger who writes favorable stories about your family unlike others who always have something nasty to report about the controversial Igwe Zik Achike and his four infamous sons."

Kurt lifted one eyebrow. "Infamous?"

Sesan cleared his throat. "We're getting off point here. The point is I'm on your side. I've always been and you know that. That's why I'm the only reporter who has the mighty Kurt Achike's personal phone number."

Kurt rolled his eyes and then swung one leg over the other. His glance caught that of the youngish sales girl at the counter opposite. She quickly averted her gaze.

Another curious onlooker, curious about him and his family. _Whatever._

"So what can I do for you this afternoon, Sesan?"

Sesan exploded, "You could tell me why I've been hearing gossip all around town that Kurt Achike is getting married to Abomeli Odum next month."

"You said it yourself: gossip. The situation hasn't changed since the last time I gave you an update. Abomeli and I have not set a date."

"It's not gossip, Kurt. It's on the radio and other bloggers are running with it. They credit an anonymous source."

Kurt bounded forward, scooting to the very edge of his seat. His voice was quiet and panicked at the same time. "What?"

Sesan continued, "That's why I was angry. I thought I was your first call for news like this."

"I didn't—I haven't set a date."

"Well, everyone thinks you did."

" _Mist!_ Where did they get this bullshit story from?"

"An unnamed source."

"An unnamed— _mist!_ Who the hell is this source?"

Sesan lowered his voice. "I asked some questions. Heard something. If you truly haven't set a date—"

"I haven't."

"That's good then. The source is your fiancée, or so I heard."

Kurt was up and striding toward the changing room, the phone glued to his ear. "Thanks Sesan."

"No worries, Kurt. Later."

Kurt's head pounded. How could she? Battling to rein in his growing temper, he was in public after all; he called out, "Abomeli!"

"Babes."

"I need you here right now."

"I'm coming."

"Now!"

She stepped out; back in the clothing she'd worn to the shop and with the silk dress on her arm. "What is it, babes?"

He sucked in a deep breath. "Did you tell anyone that we've set a date for our wedding?"

Abomeli's eyes jumped to his. He sighted something: anxiety mixed with panic.

She looked away, shrugging her shoulders. "Why are you asking me this?"

"Did you or did you not?"

"Kurt, why would you think—?"

"Just answer me!"

Abomeli frowned. "You don't have to scream at me."

"I don't have to scream... are you okay?" Kurt aimed an index finger at his right temple. "Are you thinking right? You don't think I should be annoyed?"

"Okay, fine." She opened her arms, palms out. "I may have said something."

"Abomeli! Why? Did I tell you to do that? Have we even set a date?"

"You told me you wanted to marry me as soon as possible."

"How did that translate into next month?"

Abomeli extended a hand to him. He stepped away.

"Babes..." she dumped the dress on a nearby stool. "I love you. You love me. There's no reason to wait."

"It still does not give you any right to tell the world a lie."

"But when are we getting married, babes?"

Kurt veered on her, hazel eyes shining. "You think this is a good time to ask me this? _Ach nee?_ "

She puckered her lips at him. "I don't like it when you start cursing at me in German."

"It's not a curse." Kurt shook his head. She'd done it again. Pissed him off. And now he was back to wondering whether she was the one. Did she think that exposing a fabricated date would force his hand? It proved she didn't know him well.

He pushed the words out through his stiff lips, "We're leaving now."

She glanced at the dress. "But what of the gown?"

He glowered at her. "What of it?"

"Won't we buy it?"

"You mean me."

"I would if I had the money."

Kurt thinned his eyes at her and then stormed toward the door. "If you don't leave now, I'll go without you."

She hesitated and then scurried after him.

"Excuse me sir... madam... you're not taking the dress?"

He paused, his hand on the door handle. Then he sighed and swerved around to look at the sales girl.

"I'll take it."

"And the shoes she tried on earlier?"

Kurt pressed his lips together. _Mist!_ "Yes, fine. Whatever. The shoes too."

"Babes, thanks," Abomeli whispered.

"Just go and wait for me by the car. We're not finished discussing this."

### Chapter 2

Fishing for his phone in the pocket of his black jacket, Leke Achike dallied by the conveyor belt. The luggage was rolling in, slowly but surely. A few of his fellow passengers on the flight into Lagos loitered in front of the conveyor belt, also waiting for their luggage.

He extricated his phone and placed a call. "Bala?"

"Yes, sir."

"Where are you?"

"I'm on airport road, about ten minutes away. Welcome, sir, your flight came in early."

Leke nodded although his driver couldn't see it. "Yes, we did. I'm collecting my bags. I'll be out soon."

"I'll be there, sir."

Leke ended the call and slipped the phone back into his jacket.

He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his trousers. It'd been a long flight and a hectic ten-hour every day, one-week job watching over a herd of fat-faced corporate executives cavorting in a game reserve in Kinshasa. But they paid well and on time. The money was already sitting in his bank account. _Thank you. Nice doing business with you._

Leke smiled. His home and personal security business, _Leo9 Services_ , was doing very well. Very well, indeed. He was hiring again, beefing up his staff. He'd advertised the vacancy last week but no luck yet. It wasn't easy, though. He understood that. He was seeking female security personnel to act as bodyguards. How many were there in the country?

But he would find the right person. As always. He'd handpicked his present team—all male—and they were good. One or two almost as good as him. He would find the right woman to add to the mix. It was only a matter of time.

The announcement boomed once more over the system. Announcing the arrival of the flight from Nairobi to Lagos...

Leke scanned the belt. His bags hadn't arrived yet. Damn, did it always have to take forever to get your luggage?

His finger was up again, tracing the scar under his right eye. It'd become an automatic motion, touching the scar often, struggling not to remember how that scar had happened to his face. It had been a few years. The scar was fading now but still visible.

He didn't mind that. He needed the reminder to not make the same mistake again.

Leke shook his head. _Forget about what happened in Ghana._

He breathed in air. This female bodyguard business was hot right now. Some of his male clients had suggested it. Apparently they preferred another female watching over their precious wives. And then, in Kinshasa, one of the executives, a woman, had informed him that she knew a lot of her friends wanted women guarding their children. Preferably ones who do double duty as nannies and bodyguards.

It made sense, business-wise. Right after Kurt and Abomeli's engagement party tomorrow night, he would call up his contacts, dig harder and intensify his search.

It'd been a few weeks since he'd set eyes on his brother—indeed, on any of his family. His job took him up and down, here and there. He'd barely returned from his sojourn to Ghana before jetting off to Nairobi and then Kinshasa.

Beautiful Abomeli. At twenty-nine, nine years younger than Kurt. She seemed to love his brother. But, still, there was just something about her he didn't like. Not that he would ever, ever say anything to Kurt about her. She was Kurt's choice and he would stand by his brother, no matter what.

***

Jon Achike-Scott dragged open his eyes. His gaze alighted on a cute face and then descended to her large naked breasts.

He shot out a hand to grab one of those bouncy breasts.

She shoved his hand away. "There's someone at your door."

"What?" Jon muttered, fighting to remember who she was, where he was. And what had happened last night. Oh yes. He'd gone to a nightclub with... um, ur... yes, Kemi... and they'd had a lot to drink and after the club, they had returned to his flat. Yeah, yeah, he was in his bed.

"Did you hear what I said?"

Her voice floated away. His eyes were closing. Somewhere someone was hammering on something...

"Fine. I'll open it."

Through half-shut eyes, Jon watched her—Kemi—spring out of the bed and pull on a t-shirt. Where was she going?

His eyelids drooped. Wow. The sex with Kemi had been great. She was limber, able to move in ways that still amazed him.

The yells jolted him from sleep and out of the bed.

Jon followed the sound, to his foyer. He halted and stared.

"—you must be smoking crack! Jon is not yours."

"Who is smoking crack? I asked you: what are you doing with my boyfriend, you ugly bitch?"

Kemi had her hands on her waist; face up and close to the other woman's face. The door stood ajar. The other woman was pretty and tall, taller than Kemi and she looked familiar. Yeah, yeah. Her name was... Amina. She was one of the women he screwed on and off.

Jon scratched his stubble. Should he do something about this? _Uh, maybe not._

He took a step back but unfortunately, his movement alerted the women.

They swung their faces in his direction. Amina's eyes traveled over him.

And that was when he realized he was naked.

Amina shouted, "Jon, Jon... what happened? Baby, tell her you're mine."

Kemi batted her eyelashes at Jon. "Baby, tell her the truth, okay? She's crazy."

"Um..." Jon gave a wry smile. Were they both kidding? But what should he say? How could he handle this potentially volatile situation? Definitely not what was at the tip of his tongue: _I'm not dating either of you._

Amina moved toward him but Kemi blocked her way.

"Where do you think you're going? This is my man's house!"

"Since when? He's not yours, are you deaf?"

"Who is deaf? Me or you?"

_Phew._ They were back to concentrating on each other. This was his moment.

Jon backed away slowly, into the bedroom. He didn't have time for this. The pool party was this evening and Kurt and Abomeli's engagement dinner was tomorrow. He had to leave now.

Jon glanced around. Where were his boxers? His glance spied them on the carpet, tangled together with Kemi's underwear, dress and heels.

He climbed into his boxers and then snatched his phone off the dresser by his bed. Quickly now. They were still going at it. Screaming their heads off.

Jon rooted in his closet and went for the nearest shirt, jeans and sneakers. Clutching the shoes and phone in one hand and with the clothes over his other arm, he crept out of the bedroom, took a left turn past the bathroom to the backdoor.

Damn, his toothbrush. Jon sighed, slipped his phone into a pocket of his jeans and retraced his steps.

Good. They hadn't noticed his absence yet. Great.

He retrieved his toothbrush, opened the backdoor— _quietly, quietly_ —and slunk out, easing the door shut behind him.

### Chapter 3

"Tell me again why we're here waiting to pick up my brother when he has, maybe, two or three drivers."

Laide Balogun-Achike glanced up into her husband's face and smiled. "Because, sweetie, he's your brother and my brother-in-law and because we've both missed him. And because we were close by."

Toke Achike's head fell back and came back up again. "Okay, okay." He stared at her, entranced again by her loveliness. What a lucky man he was. To sleep and wake up every day next to this vision...

"He's always been your favorite, though," Toke said, grinning at her.

"Yes. He's the least—shall we say—troublesome of the four sons of Zik."

Toke opened his eyes in a pretense of shock. "Four? Are you including me?"

She snuggled into his side, laughing. "Sweetie, you know I love you anyway."

"Leke's fooled you, like he's done my parents and hundred others, into thinking he's a good guy. Wait and see; he'll show you."

"Oh, please."

"Okay-o. Don't say I didn't warn you." Toke draped his left arm over her shoulders, tugging her closer. His stare wandered over her trim body in a pink t-shirt—she loved pink—over black Capris. Dressed for an evening partying at the Achike estate pool.

Was she referring to his fling with Theresa, the ex-human resources director of Zik's Air? She'd forgiven him. It had happened over nine months ago and since that time; he'd been a good boy. Kept his hands to himself and only on his wife.

Theresa had been a mistake. He was the CEO and she had been his employee. She was a divorcee and he was married to Otunba Balogun's first daughter. She claimed she loved him and begged him to leave his wife.

As if.

How could he divorce Laide? She was the love of his life and the mother of his four children; the twins, his son and daughter. Also her father was a chieftain in his political party, one of his strongest supporters for his bid for Governor of Lagos State in the next elections.

No, he wasn't stupid. He'd ended things with Theresa and then the next day she'd rushed into his office, screaming and crying and making a scene. Of course the news had reached Laide's ears. Laide had immediately demanded he fire Theresa.

And eager to make amends, he'd done just that.

His adoring gaze logged her dark, finely-pored skin. He was blessed to have her, he really was. The first time he'd seen her, she was peering at him from the upstairs window of her bedroom. He had been nineteen years old and had gone with his father to visit Otunba Balogun. At the end of their visit and as they were heading to their car, he'd felt someone's eyes on him. He'd looked up and there she was, staring at him.

She'd watched him for over seven months and then, one day she came down to talk to him. Maybe she'd meant it as a question but it came out as an order.

"You don't have a girlfriend."

Toke had ogled this good-looking young girl standing boldly in front of him and had immediately decided not to reveal the fact that he was seeing two other girls at the same time.

He'd done what any red-blooded, eager, almost twenty year old man would do. He'd asked her out and she'd said yes. It took him two years, and an engagement ring to pry open her thighs but the wait had been worth it.

He grinned.

A string of announcements echoed around the arrivals lounge of the Murtala Mohammed Airport. One of which was the arrival of Leke's flight.

"He'll be out soon," Laide said, kneading her husband's knee with one hand.

"Yes. It won't be long." Toke glanced around. At this hour, the hall was partly full. He noticed a lot of men and women in business suits milling about plus a couple of strong-faced army officers in their green uniforms.

He settled into his seat, stroking his wife's upper arm. Laide was right. He'd missed his brother. Despite his quiet air, Leke always had fun stories to tell, maybe because of his job as a bodyguard. He couldn't wait to see him.

Tonight was going to be wonderful. Everyone was going to be at the pool party and then, the next day at the dinner—Dad, Mom, Kurt, Leke and Jon. And then, hopefully soon after, Kurt would join him and become the second son of Zik to get married.

Hopefully.

He was looking forward to that.

***

"What's the matter, you two?" Diola moved out from behind the marble kitchen counter and walked up to her eldest son and his fiancée.

Kurt snarled, throwing a glare in Abomeli's direction. "Ask her."

"I'm asking you." Diola scowled at him.

"She went gossiping to reporters and now everyone believes we're getting married next month."

Diola glanced at the girl, sighting red-rimmed eyes. "You shouldn't have done that."

"I know, mummy, I'm sorry. I've been apologizing to him and he's still angry."

"You know how careful he is about his privacy. Anyway, Kurt, you two need to talk it out. The others will be arriving soon."

Kurt's jaw tightened. Talk to her. Would she even listen?

"And..." Diola returned to the kitchen counter, to the raw chicken wings laid out on a tray. "What's wrong with getting married next month?"

His eyes widened. "Mom, are you serious?"

She glanced up at him and tossed him a wide, innocent smile. "I am. What's wrong with it?"

"Okay, okay. I see... well, for one thing, it's too soon."

"Too soon? Hmm..." her fingers with black-painted nails worked on the wings. "When do you think is the right time?"

Kurt shrugged. "I don't know. Six months..."

Abomeli yelped. "Six months!"

"I don't want to discuss this right now," he muttered. His glance shifted to his mother in an off-shoulder loose top over baggy jeans shorts. Already in party mode. Her dense, graying hair had been cut into a sharp, neat bob that framed her roundish face. Each ear bore three gold plugs. His mom, well, actually his step-mom, was fifty-six but looked ten years younger.

He came to her side. "Do you need my help with the chicken?"

She pushed him away with one heavy hip. "I can cope. I'm making spicy chicken wings for this night. I've booked a chef to cook tomorrow's food."

"I'll prepare a cocktail." Kurt strolled over to the massive stainless steel fridge. He opened it and pulled out a large glass bowl crammed with pieces of chocolate.

"Can I help, babes?" Abomeli was by his side, glancing into his face.

He sighed. His mom was right. They should talk about this and make sure they were on the same page about this engagement business. Six months was the shortest he could go.

"There should be a jug of cream in the fridge," he said, setting the bowl on the counter.

She found the cream.

"Pour it in."

Diola smiled at them. "Your father and Uncle Innocent are by the pool. They're making substantial inroads into the grilled fish, chicken and lobsters I placed out there."

Kurt nodded, stirring the mixture of chocolate and cream. He said, "They better leave enough for the rest of us. Leke's flight would have touched down by now."

"Umhmm. Unfortunately, your cousin, Osita won't make it. Clara is pregnant with their fourth child and it's been a difficult pregnancy."

"I know. I get it."

"Have you spoken to any of your brothers today?"

"No, I haven't. Have you?"

"I heard from Toke a few hours ago."

Kurt stopped and glanced at his mother. "They're fine now, he and Laide, aren't they?"

Diola didn't look up. "They are. No thanks to your brother."

He chuckled. "Toke's still adjusting to married life."

"Six years after?" She blew air out of her mouth and her eyes fell on Abomeli. "Anyway, we can discuss this later."

Kurt covered the bowl with cling film and plunked it in the microwave. Setting the timer and turning it on, he said, "Mom, once it's done, bring it out and let it cool. I'll come back for this later."

Diola bobbed her head. "Okay. Are you going up?"

"I want to change into something casual." He flicked a glance at Abomeli. "You coming?"

She nodded, offering him a wobbly smile.

"Don't spend all night there, you two," Diola called out as Kurt and Abomeli left the kitchen.

### Chapter 4

Toke strode straight into his brother's path. Leke froze and then a grin split his face.

"What are you doing here?" Leke asked. His glance brushed past Toke to a smiling Laide. "What are you two doing here?"

"We came to pick you, lion," Toke said, raising his eyebrows. His gaze took in his elder brother, his black suit and shirt drawing attention to his dark, striking face and to the tiny scar. His voice, as ever, had a deep, gravelly timbre.

"You still call me that," Leke said and laughed.

"Once in a while."

The two men hugged, slapping each other on the back.

Leke pulled away and put his arms around Laide. He kissed a cheek.

"You look beautiful, as always."

She beamed at him, eyes bright. "Thank you, Leke the lion."

Leke's laughter rumbled. He glanced at his younger brother. Toke looked fit and well-turned out in a white soft linen top and trousers, sewn native-style. He smacked his brother's flat belly. "Is there some flabbiness here? What are you feeding him, Laide?"

"Excuse me..." Toke said in mock-outrage. "I do a hundred sit-ups a day."

"A hundred?"

Laide whispered, "About eighty."

Toke stared at her. " _Et tu?_ "

"People, you didn't need to go out of your way. My driver's here."

Toke flashed a glance at his wife. "Told you."

Laide ignored him. She said to Leke, "We wanted to and we were in the neighbourhood. We've missed you."

Leke smiled. "And I've missed you both. How are the little ones?"

"They're fine. They're spending the two nights with my parents," she responded.

"Good, good."

Laide said, "Why don't you tell your driver to go on to the estate? He can meet you there."

"But I need to stop by my office for a bit."

"For how long, specifically?" Toke asked.

"Thirty minutes, at the most."

"We can do thirty minutes, right?" Toke glanced at his wife.

She nodded. "Yes, of course."

"Fine." Leke's eyes slanted toward the trolley beside him bearing his two small-sized cases and a knapsack. "I'll have to call Bala and tell him to leave without me."

"And I'll call our driver and tell him to bring our car to the front," Toke said, pulling out his phone.

Leke placed his call and Toke made his.

Depositing his phone in his jacket pocket, Leke glanced at Toke and Laide. They both looked great, happy. Thank God. It appeared that, so far, his brother had refrained from any more hanky-panky.

"You two are glowing. How's everything?"

"It's all good," Laide responded. Her eyes gleamed. "We're going on a second honeymoon. To Aruba."

"Aruba, lucky you."

"We've bought the tickets and booked the rooms. After Kurt's engagement party, we'll leave," Toke said.

"Did you meet any nice women in Kenya?" Laide asked, grinning up at Leke.

Toke hissed. "You're wasting your time. When it comes to women, the lion plays his cards close to his chest."

"Shut up," Leke said, a smile erupting.

"How was Kenya?" Laide persisted.

"You know I went to watch over some senior executives on their team-building excursion to Nairobi and Kinshasa."

"Yes."

"And that's all I did. Watching over them."

Laide looked unconvinced.

Toke muttered, "Told you."

Leke eyed his brother. He said to Laide, "I can tell you about a client of mine. He bought home security systems for three homes."

"So?" Toke asked.

"Well, for his three families in these three homes. Three wives, three sets of children, three dogs."

Laide sighed and shook her head. "Men."

"Hey, hey," her husband murmured.

"What?" She glowered at him.

_Uh-oh._ Toke decided it was time to change the subject. "Where are you on the bet? Will he or will he not?"

Leke said, "Twenty thousand naira for the second option."

"Am I the only one who believes this will work?" Toke said, with a groan.

"Yes, I think so."

Laide frowned at them. "What are you guys talking about?"

"We have a bet on whether Kurt will break this engagement or not."

"You guys are horrible."

"Don't include me," Toke exclaimed, "I actually think he'll go through with it."

"And goats will fly," Leke muttered.

"You guys are something else," Laide said, shaking her head.

***

With his free hand, Jon pounded on his neighbour's back door.

He guessed she was home. It was early evening Friday. On Fridays, Sheila returned home from her job as training supervisor in a consulting firm usually by four-thirty. She was single, though she had a boyfriend who came visiting only on Sundays. He was probably married and was probably paying her rent. She was very friendly, a little too friendly, and her eyes had always held an interested, I'm-available glow.

She yanked it open and then her eyes went round.

Jon shot her a grin and threw her one of his calculated and well-practiced smoldering glances.

"Why are you here in your boxers?" Her eyes fastened on his broad chest and then traveled down.

He smiled wider. "I need your help, Sheila."

"Why? What's wrong?"

"I have to be at a family event this evening and I need to shower and change."

"You just woke up?"

He shrugged. "I had a late night. May I use your bathroom?"

"What's wrong with yours?"

Jon blew his side-fringe of golden-brown hair off his face. He smiled again. "I have a home situation."

"A home situation?"

"Yeah. A miscalculation."

Sheila giggled. "I'm sure it has something to do with a woman."

"Women, actually."

"Jon!" She giggled again. "You're such a bad boy."

"But you like me anyway, right?"

She fluttered her eyelashes. "You never stop."

"So can I use your bathroom?"

"Only if you agree to stop by after your family event."

Jon stepped forward, grinning. "It's a date."

### Chapter 5

"I'm sorry, babes. How many times do I have to say it?"

Perched on the bed in his bedroom, Kurt glanced up at Abomeli standing in front of him, looking both remorseful and radiant at the same time.

"Why did you do it?" he asked, linking his eyes with hers.

She pouted. "You know why. When you asked me to marry you, you said as soon as possible but ever since then, I feel like you're pulling back... like you've changed your mind or something."

He raked the fingers of one hand through his curls. "I don't know why you think I'm pulling back. I told you then that I wanted to get married before I turned forty and that's only two years away. I do want to get married, darling, I do."

"You proposed on February fourteen and that was..." She counted the months on the fingers of her left hand. "February, March, April, May and June... five months ago. We haven't set a date yet."

Why was she pushing this? What else did she want from him, for goodness sake? Kurt spoke slowly and as mildly as he could manage, "I've been busy, you know this, with things at my nightclub, Fever Pitch and...um..." He couldn't think of anything else to say.

"But that doesn't stop us from setting a date."

She was right. He didn't want to think about why he was dragging his feet. Not right now, at least. "We will, but first I have to contact my guy, Sesan, and ask him to help retract the story. Darling, we're not getting married next month."

Abomeli approached him, bent over and placed her hands on his laps. Her long-lashed eyes bored into his. "When are we getting married?"

Kurt looked away. "Soon, darling, very soon. Let's get through tomorrow's engagement dinner party first."

"Okay, babes." She straightened and then glanced over at a large paper bag resting beside him on the bed. "Do you want me to try on the dress again, just for you?"

He smiled. "Yes, I'd like that."

Abomeli's hands darted behind and zipped down her sundress. Then her hands rose to the straps and tugged it down, exposing smooth skin and her black lace bra.

Kurt's pupils dilated. His voice roughened. "Take it all off."

She obeyed.

***

Toke's gaze swept the scene. They were standing outside, savoring the cool evening air. Laide lingered by his side. Leke was propped up on the barbed-wire-laced concrete wall that protected his office compound. Samuel and Priye, two of his brother's trusted employees, stood to Leke's left.

Samuel had wide, wide shoulders and a hefty chest which suggested a lot of hours spent lifting weights. His arms were crossed over his chest and the wedding ring appeared tiny on the huge finger of his left hand.

Priye was smaller, athletic. Like his boss, he wore a black jacket and black shirt but instead of matching trousers, he wore blue jeans.

"So there's nothing pressing?" Leke asked once again.

Samuel laughed and then replied, "No, boss. Everything's cool. Go and enjoy your party."

"Okay, okay, if you're sure..." Leke pitched a grin. Among his staff, Priye and Samuel were closest to him. Especially Priye. Priye had been with him almost from the beginning of the establishment of _Leo9 Services._ From Ghana.

"Lion, let's go," Toke said, rolling his eyes.

Leke nodded. "Yes, fine. We can leave."

"At last," Toke muttered and then he stopped. Leke's eyes had narrowed and they were staring at something over Toke's shoulder.

Toke pivoted around.

A woman with short, blonde-dyed hair in a trouser suit marched toward them, a determined fix to her face. In seconds, she was past him and had reached Samuel. Samuel extended an arm to halt her progress.

It was like a scene from an action movie.

Toke blinked and gaped some more.

She grabbed his arm and lightning-quick, Samuel was on the ground.

Laide scampered behind her husband's back.

_What the hell?_ Toke could do nothing but watch.

Priye pounced. He and the strange woman grappled together as Samuel got to his feet.

What the hell? Toke thought again. His glance left the combatants and flew to his elder brother. Leke seemed as calm as a mountain.

Priye pinned her arms behind her back. The woman kicked once and then she stared at Leke. "Mr. Achike! Mr. Leke Achike! I only want to talk."

Priye arched one eyebrow at his boss.

Leke gave an imperceptible tip of his head.

Priye released her.

Leke surveyed this woman. Youngish, mid-thirties, average height. She had some skills. Impressive.

"What do you want?" he asked her.

She was breathing hard but her eyes were steady and resolute. "A job, sir."

Leke's eyebrows climbed. "A job?"

"Yes, sir. With your company. I heard you're hiring female bodyguards. I have a black belt in Jujitsu and—"

He cut her off with a wave of his hand. Behind her, Samuel was dusting his trousers and scowling. Priye's gaze was fixated on her.

"How did you know I was here, at this time?"

She answered, "I've been watching the building for days ever since the advert came out."

"Have you? What's your name?"

"Etoro Macauley."

"Hmm. So you want to work for me?"

"Yes, sir. I have my CV in my jacket pocket, if you—"

"You took down Samuel. That's a hell of a job interview, in my opinion."

"Thank you, sir."

"Single or married?" Priye interjected.

She tossed him a sharp stare and then muttered, "Single."

Leke made a snap decision. "I intended to invite you two, Samuel and Priye; to the pool party at my parents' but I've changed my mind. Are you doing anything this evening, Etoro Macauley?"

"No, sir."

"You're invited. You and Priye. Samuel, stay back and brush up on your fighting skills."

Samuel groaned.

***

"I'm happy you got time off from work," Diola Achike said, glancing at her third son lounging beside her on the L-shaped couch in the downstairs sitting room. "You work too hard."

"Well, for one month, I get to play hard. No surgeries. No patients. No calls," Jon said with a smile. He stretched out his legs and crossed them over at his ankles.

"Isabella has been singing to me about her daddy's return home next week."

"She's the only reason I'm making the trip to New York."

Diola sighed and then asked, "How are things with your ex-wife?"

"Sister Do Good is as self-righteous as ever."

Diola fought to prevent the laugh from bursting out of her mouth. "Why do you keep calling her that?"

"Because that's who she is."

"Her name is Valentina."

"Valentina aka Sister Do Good."

"I can't believe Isabella is turning six next week. She's growing fast."

"I know, I know." Jon pushed the fringe of hair off his face. "I almost can't believe I'm thirty-one and I have a six year old daughter. Wow."

He'd been in love with Valentina once—or at least, he'd thought he'd been. She sold him coffees and donuts every month at the coffee shop close to the hospital where he worked. She knew his order by heart—one pump black coffee, two pumps vanilla—and always added an extra, free donut. Even then, she had been an overachiever, studying law in Columbia and working two jobs. In the shop and as an intern in a mid-sized law firm.

They got married and had Isabella and then everything fell apart. He got busier and then started to travel more frequently between the US and Nigeria. She graduated _summa cum laude_ —of course—and got a job almost immediately.

Suddenly, they grew apart. The divorce was mutual, though the fact that she'd walked in on him schtupping their next door neighbour in their living room, was the primary catalyst.

His phone in his left jeans pocket vibrated against his thigh. He yanked it out and stared at the screen. Sister Do Good.

"Speak of the devil," he said and winked at his mother.

Diola shook a warning finger at him.

Jon put the phone to his ear.

"Jon, how do you expect me to do all this by myself? You know I'm busy with work and you're there in Nigeria, having the time of your life."

"Hello to you too. What have I done wrong this time?"

"Your daughter's birthday!" Valentina yelled.

Jon frowned. "I sent you money last week to pay for the party. I'm traveling next week so that I can be there. What more do I need to do?"

"I'm doing everything! I'm getting the bouncing castle, the balloons, the cake, the magician, the live band and I'm also packaging the gifts."

"That's why you're her mother."

"And you're her father. You should be more hands-on."

Jon clenched his teeth, willing his temper to stay even. "I'm here, working to make money for the two of you, remember?"

"If that's all you're doing..."

Jon had had enough. He cut the connection.

"What's the problem?" Diola asked.

He swung his head from one side to the other. "She's the most... annoying creature on the planet. What does she want me to do? She's complaining about handling the preparations for her daughter's birthday."

"Well, you've told me she's very busy. What do you think about bringing Isabella for an extended stay in Nigeria? I'll be glad to watch her and I know Zik will be too."

Jon glanced into her face. She was the only mother he knew. With the death of his father, Gabe Scott, Zik and Diola Achike had become his legal parents. They adored him and the feeling was mutual.

He nodded. Hmm. Taking his daughter off Sister Do Good's hands. That could work.

### Chapter 6

These were the moments he enjoyed the most. Hanging with his father and brothers, making jokes, telling stories. Kurt hadn't come down yet, though.

Leke glanced to his right. His father relaxed on a lounge chair, puffing on a cigar. Beside him was Uncle Innocent, his father's cousin. Following him was Jon and then, Toke and Laide. Beyond sat Priye and Etoro.

Zik Achike, in a safari shirt over cream-coloured shorts, his full beard touched with grey, was a force of nature. He was sixty-two and yet had the energy and verve of someone twenty years younger. He was fiercely in love with his wife of almost forty years.

Lanky Uncle Innocent was the closest person to his father among the members of the Achike extended family.

Jon's long side-fringe of golden-brown hair obscured one eye. The other grey eye sparkled with wit. Thirty-one, fun-loving and vain, he had perfected the art of hiding his considerable intelligence from strangers. But not from his family.

Twenty-nine year old Toke was the politician of the family, in more ways than one. Personable and charming, he always knew what to say in any situation. Women adored him. Men listened to him.

White light rained down on the pool area from floodlights installed at various points on the high wall surrounding the ten-acre estate and also from wrought-iron lamps mounted on poles around the pool. The light-blue water, lit from the pool bed, shimmered.

To the east, poolside, a well-stocked bar in a booth and a trestle table loaded with barbecued meats, plates, cutlery, cups and napkins waited.

"She took Samuel down?" Zik asked, chuckling.

Leke took off his jacket and tossed it on the back of his chair. "Yes."

Zik's head swiveled toward Etoro. "She's such a skinny thing."

"Size has nothing to do with skill."

"True, true. I like her. I like strong women."

Leke nodded. "Yes, we know. Mom is strong. Kurt's mom, Amelie, is strong."

Toke squeezed his wife's knee. "So is my one and only."

"Is Abomeli?" Jon asked, a mischievous glint in his eye.

There was a moment of silence. Then, Zik cleared his throat and muttered, "She's his choice."

"For the moment," Leke murmured.

"I put twenty thousand naira on Kurt breaking up with her," Jon said.

"Me too," Leke said.

Zik dragged the tip of the cigar from his mouth and said, "Don't tell Diola but twenty thousand, from me, for the breakup."

"Am I the only one who thinks he'll go through with it?" Toke whined.

"Yes!" Jon shouted.

Toke shook his head. "You people should have more faith in him."

Jon snorted. "After six heart-broken girlfriends and one bitter ex-fiancée, I tend to believe the facts. And anyway, Abomeli is great and all but she's..."

Zik sighed. "...not the one. Anyway..." He turned to face Leke, "I want to know about Kenya. How was it?"

"Tell us a sexy story," Jon yelled.

"Umm..." Leke cocked his head, thinking. "Let's see... one of the female VPs at the teambuilding event begged me to impregnate her so she could have children who looked like me. Is that sexy enough for you?"

"Very," Jon said. "Did you say yes to the VP?"

Leke grinned and shook his head. "No."

Jon groaned and then added, "What will I do with you? Anyway, I have a sexy story of my own. I left two women fighting over me in my apartment."

"You left them there?" Zik gaped at his son.

"Not to worry. They both love me. They wouldn't do any harm to my place. And my door is a spring lock. They only have to bang it to lock it. I have the keys to my backdoor."

"You have to be careful, Jon. Some women are dangerous."

"Not these ones, dad."

Toke murmured, "I almost envy you."

Laide lifted one eyebrow.

"I said _almost_..." Toke clarified.

Jon grinned and then to Zik, "Dad, pass me a cigar."

Zik complied. Toke dug in one pocket of his trousers and produced a cigarette pack and lighter.

"Hey, hey..." Laide snapped, "Go and smoke somewhere else."

"Yes mam." Toke leaped to his feet. "Jon, are you joining me?"

Jon got up and the two men moved away from the chairs.

Leke left his father and his uncle and made his way to the end where Etoro sat, two chairs separating her from Priye. On the table by her side were a plate of chicken and a box of orange juice. She perched on the edge of her seat, her arms wound around her chest.

He threw her a gentle smile. "Are you having fun? You need to relax a little."

She inhaled and then smiled back. "Yes, sir."

He plunked on the empty chair by her side. "What are your thoughts so far? About the crazy Achike family?"

"You guys are not that crazy."

"Not _that_ crazy, wow. That means we're..." He pressed the thumb and forefinger of his right hand together, "...a little crazy."

Etoro laughed. "No comment, sir."

"Good idea."

"May I ask you a question, sir?"

Leke bobbed his head.

"You have three brothers: Kurt, Jon and Toke. But Kurt is mixed-race and Jon is white..."

Leke grinned. "Yes, Kurt's mother is German and she lives there. She and my dad were never married. Jon was adopted. His father was my father's best friend."

"Ah, I see."

***

Jon exhaled a cloud of smoke. He eyed Toke. "Toks, ask Uncle Innocent about Maka."

Toke groaned. "Not again. Last year at mom's birthday, you made me ask him. I thought you've gotten over his daughter, your second cousin, by the way."

Jon waved that away with a flick of his hand. "Not by blood."

"So because you had sex with her when you were nineteen and because she was your first, you can't forget her."

"What?" Jon glowered at his brother. "Who says she was my first?"

"Like I don't know..."

"I had other women before her."

Toke rolled his eyes. "Name one."

Jon shrugged. "Whatever. I only want to know what she's doing now."

"You mean, if she's dating—or God forbid—married."

Jon glared. "Are you going to ask him or not?"

"Okay. Fine. Yes."

***

There was no worry that Priye wasn't enjoying himself. Jacket off, sleeves gathered to his elbows, he was devouring a whole catfish.

"Take it easy," Leke said, coming to sit by him.

Priye glanced up, shamefaced and then smiled. Wiping his hands on a napkin, he said, "Boss... what do you think of Etoro?"

Leke shrugged. "I like her."

"Me too. Boss, she's single."

"So?"

"I'm divorced."

"And?" Leke asked, maintaining a blank face.

"What do you think of the two of us together?"

"You know you'll be colleagues, right?"

"Boss, we don't have a human resources policy that says one colleague cannot date another."

"We don't?" Leke laughed and then added, "I don't think she wants you. From what I can see about her, she's all about the job."

"But boss, I need to try, right?"

"Okay, but don't say I didn't warn you."

***

"She should be... I think, twenty-eight now, correct?"

Toke finished his cigarette and stubbed the end on a nearby ashtray. "Are we still talking about Maka Achike?"

Jon lobbed a glare at Toke. "So?"

But Toke didn't answer. He stared ahead, mouth sagging.

Jon glanced at him and then tracked his brother's gaze.

A fair petite beauty wearing a leopard-print bodycon over wide Beyoncé hips sashayed toward them. Her generous breasts were almost popping out through the deep V-neckline of the dress that clung to her curvy body and came to an end midway between her thighs.

Jon's eyes stayed on her bosom until she reached them.

She smiled at Toke. "Commissioner..."

Toke forced his mouth to respond, "You know me?"

"I've seen you on TV."

"Hi," Jon said.

She gave him a half-second glance and then was back to beaming at Toke. "I'm Towumi, Abomeli's best friend. She invited me to the party and to the dinner tomorrow."

She was staying overnight. God help him. Toke inhaled air in through his nostrils.

Towumi continued, aware of the effect she was having on him, "The security men at the gate directed me here but I want to stop by my room for a bit. Where will I be staying for the night, Commissioner? Where is Abomeli?"

Jon answered, "She's screwing Kurt in his room."

Laide appeared at Toke's side. Forehead wrinkled in a frown, she said to Towumi, "What do you want? I'm his wife."

"Oh, madam, sorry-o..." Towumi giggled. "I was wondering whether he could show me where my room is."

Laide blinked once, twice. " _Excuse me?_ "

Priye joined them. "What's going on?"

Laide looked like she was on the verge of exploding. "She... wants... my husband... to show her to her room."

"I'll take her to Mrs. Achike, Mummy Diola," Priye said, quickly. To Towumi, "Madam, follow me, please."

"See you later, Commissioner," she said, throwing him a wink and then trotting after Priye.

### Chapter 7

Laide sat, fuming, a quiet Toke on the seat next to her.

Leke chewed on a chip, a plate of chicken and chips balanced on his thighs.

"Was that a dress?" Innocent Achike murmured.

"I don't understand what girls wear these days," Zik said, grimacing.

"Commissioner..." Jon cooed in a bad imitation of Towumi's voice.

Laide scowled at him. "She's a whore."

"Darling," Toke began, "don't you think that's a little..."

Laide faced him, eyebrows up.

"...too harsh?" he mumbled.

Laide repeated, "She's a whore. Didn't you see the way she targeted you?"

Toke coughed and glanced over at Innocent. "Uncle Innocent, how's Maka?"

Jon's head shot up.

Innocent smiled. "She's very well, thanks. She's training to be a helicopter pilot."

"That's Maka," Toke said. "A daredevil and tomboy. She's going to be flying one of your helicopters, I bet?"

"That's the plan."

Jon focused his gaze on the screen of his iPhone.

"Good, good."

Laide hissed, still angry. "I think I need to go and see if Mummy Diola needs my help."

She rose and stalked off.

Toke breathed out a sigh of relief.

"People, people!" Kurt advanced, carrying a jug containing a milky-white liquid in his right hand. Abomeli strolled by his side, smiling. "Laide, where are you off to?"

"Somewhere else," she muttered, over her back as she walked.

"Okay, then."

"At last!" Zik said, "He's here."

"How many hours does it take to have sex?" Toke yelled at his elder brother.

"I'm no one-minute man," Kurt joked.

Jon grinned. Kurt Achike. First born. Perfectionist. Even dressed down—for him—in a short sleeved blue shirt over pale blue jeans, he looked great. His light skin meshed well with the brown curls on his head and the hairs encircling his mouth. Add his hazel eyes and dimples to the whole mixture and it was clear as day why there were always women desperate to be Mrs. Kurt Achike.

"What's in the jug? Semen?" Jon asked.

Kurt laughed. "Funny. No, genius. It's chocolate mixed with cream. I'm making chocolate orange liqueur."

"The mixologist is in the house!" Leke said.

"You'd better believe it."

Abomeli settled into a seat. Kurt headed toward the bar.

"Abomeli, your friend was here," Jon said.

"Towumi? She's arrived? Where is she?"

"She went to find her room for the night."

A glass in each hand, Kurt dropped into the chair beside Leke. He handed his brother one.

"Thanks," Leke said, accepting the drink.

Kurt's smile was wide. "Sure, sure." He grabbed a piece of chicken off his brother's plate. "What was all that about with Laide?"

"Abomeli's friend, Towumi, was all over Toke. Needless to say, Laide did not find it funny."

"Ah."

"You look happy," Leke said. "How are things with Abomeli?"

Kurt took some time to chew. Then, "Wonderful. Super. I'm thinking I should set a date for our wedding."

"Good to hear."

"Yes." Abomeli was good for him. Maybe he should get over his fear and just bite the bullet. Make it three months. "Yes, in three months."

"You're sure?"

Kurt glanced at Leke from the corner of one eye. "Yes, I'm sure. We had a little hiccup earlier. She told the press that I had set a date for next month. I only found out when Sesan called me some time ago."

"Wow."

"We've talked. I understand why she did that. I've been pulling back a bit."

"Hmm. And you think it's best to marry this woman in three months?"

" _This woman?_ She's my fiancée, Leke."

"Okay, okay. I'll shut up." He sipped at the liqueur. "This is cool."

Kurt nodded and glanced away. Leke didn't completely believe he would end up marrying Abomeli. Well, he was going to have to prove it to him and to the other doubting Thomases in his family.

***

Priye walked by and then stopped. His head swiveled toward Etoro, strolling from the bar toward the pool, a glass in her hand.

He curved to intercept her.

Leke watched.

One minute he was stepping close to her, taking her arm. The next, he was in the pool, floundering and blowing water from his mouth.

Leke guffawed, slapping one hand on his thigh. He'd warned Priye, hadn't he? Damn, but this was funny.

Kurt joined in the laughter, his gaze on a wet Priye crawling out of the pool.

"He came on too strong," Leke commented to Kurt.

" _Mist,_ who's that woman?"

"My new employee, Etoro. She's going to be my first female bodyguard."

"She's scary, bro."

Leke chuckled.

***

Toke rested his head against the back of his chair. At last, some peace. He was getting just a little bit tired of Laide's heavy sighs and angry glares. This was a party, not a funeral.

He looked up and his gaze alighted on Towumi. She was walking toward him. This girl was bold; he had to give it to her.

Toke jumped up.

"Commissioner, can you show me where I can get a swimsuit?"

His eyes latched on her glossy lips. How would they taste? He blinked. "Um, swimsuits... I can take you there."

### Chapter 8

Laide paced the black-and-white checkered marble floor of the downstairs sitting room.

Diola's eyes trailed her. "You okay?"

"I'm fine. I just needed a break from the boys talk."

"I know how they can get. I'll be there soon to make sure everyone's behaving themselves." She stood up, walked over to her daughter-in-law and grabbed one arm. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Laide shrugged and then exhaled air. "I'm okay. Nothing to worry about."

"Are you missing the little ones already?"

"No..." finally, a smile. "I'm enjoying this break away from the little terrors."

Diola put her arm around the younger woman's shoulders. "Your four are saints compared to Jon's Isabella."

Laide laughed out loud. "True." She smiled at Diola. "I came to see if you needed any help."

"I'm done with the spicy chicken wings. I'll bring them out soon."

"Yours are extra spicy."

"That's the best way to make them." She hesitated. "And how are things with Toke? He told me about Aruba."

Laide's eyes soared to the ceiling and then lowered to meet Diola's gaze. "We're good. We're happy."

"Thank God."

"Umhmm." Laide nodded, compressing her lips.

***

Hands buried in the pockets of his trousers, Toke tipped his head at the shelves built into the wall of the pool house. "We have plenty swimsuits, male and female. Take your pick."

Under his arms, the sweat was pooling. His heart raced. He shouldn't be here alone with her. He shouldn't.

Towumi sifted through and selected a two-piece.

Toke stared at her choice. She'd picked the tiniest, flimsiest ones. He swallowed.

Towumi smiled up into his face. "Where can I change, sir?"

He shoved open a door to the right. It swung open, revealing four doors ranged off a short corridor. "You can use any of these rooms."

She slipped past him and for a brief moment, her body pressed against the inside of his arm.

Toke felt the touch, down between his legs.

Towumi opened the first door and entered.

"You can shut it after— _oh my goodness!_ " His mouth slumped in shock.

She was pulling her dress over her head, showing him... everything.

He tore his eyes away, heart thumping like that of an Olympic athlete. _Leave, Toke. You promised your wife, no more funny business._ His voice was a croak. "Towumi, you... you shouldn't be... you shouldn't be..."

"Help me..." she was out, holding the cups of the bra to her full breasts as the straps dangled by her sides.

"With?"

"Tie me up," she said, with a giggle.

His hands edged forward and rested gently on her yellow-skinned back. His thumbs moved, stroking. Her skin felt like silk...

_Toke, careful._ He tied the straps together. His mouth was dry. She was offering him her body. This lovely, tempting body... Laide was nowhere near... should he? Dare he?

"Toke!" A voice made him jump.

His hands left Towumi's back and he pivoted around.

Kurt was glowering at him. "Laide's back and she's looking for you!"

"Shit!" Without a backward glance, Toke fled out through the door and out the pool house.

She was waiting for him. Standing right at the entrance to the pool house.

Toke said a quiet, " _Shit._ "

Laide demanded, "What were you doing in there?"

"Nothing."

Kurt stepped out, followed by Towumi.

Laide's eyes expanded. "Nothing? Nothing? She was in there with you!"

"No, darling."

Laide shook her head and then fixed her hands on her hips. "Kurt just went in. I saw him. That means you were alone with this whore."

"Excuse me, madam—" Towumi started to express her outrage.

Laide lunged at the girl, sharp fingernails aiming for the face.

Towumi screamed and threw up her hands to protect her face. Laide pressed forward, determined to do harm.

Fortunately for Towumi, Kurt was swifter. He grasped her by the waist and hauled her out of harm's way.

"Laide... baby... stop..." Toke shouted. "Nothing happened."

Denied her victim, Laide concentrated on her husband. She slapped his face once, hard. "You stupid man!"

"You promised me... no more..." And then, the second time, harder.

Toke blinked, stunned by the pain of her blows.

"How can you do this to me again?" Her hand flew up.

Before it could connect once more with Toke's face, Leke seized her hand.

She twisted around, eyes wet with tears, to see who was holding her back.

"Leke... do you see what's he's done to me? Do you see?"

"Laide, please. Take it easy, please..."

She screeched at her husband, both her hands at present gripped in Leke's strong ones. "I won't let you drive me crazy!"

Clutching his throbbing face, Toke muttered, "I didn't do anything."

"You were in there alone with her!"

"So? I was helping her. You didn't have to dislocate my jaw!"

"Please..." she scoffed.

"I did nothing wrong."

"I don't believe you. First time you saw her, you were moping like a big _mumu_ and now you expect me to believe you didn't try anything with her."

"Yes!"

"Toke Achike, you won't drive me crazy!"

Leke sighed. He released her hands and put one arm around her shoulders. "Laide, he said nothing happened. Take it easy. Cool down."

Toke bit down on his bottom lip. _How I wish I had never set my eyes on Towumi._

### Chapter 9

They were huddled together in a circle: Zik, Diola, Jon, Kurt and Toke.

Toke gusted smoke out of his mouth, a lit cigarette in his right hand. He said to his mother, "I didn't do anything. I simply showed her where she could change into her swimsuit."

Elbows on her knees, her eyes trained on her son, Diola snapped, "A recovering crack addict doesn't go to a party where he knows drugs are sold and used, believing he won't relapse."

"For goodness sake!" Toke muttered and took a hard puff of his cigarette.

"She's right, though," Kurt said.

"You have to be careful with these gold-digging girls who go after you because you're a CEO and a commissioner..." Zik said, with a shake of his head.

"And because they all know about your past history with Theresa," Jon added.

Toke nodded. "I know, I know." He slanted a bitter glance at Towumi, wearing her scanty swimwear, giggling and laughing with Abomeli.

He couldn't believe he had almost lost it. Not again. He'd thought he'd become stronger. He'd thought Theresa would be the last. But no. He was as weak as ever.

"You have to apologize to Laide," Diola said.

"But I didn't do anything."

His mother snapped, "You still have to apologize for going in there alone with Towumi in the first place!"

Toke raised both hands. "Yes, okay, if that will help."

"It will." Diola sat up and wrapped her arms around her bosom.

"I love Laide. She's my life," Toke said, tapping his forehead with his left hand. "I shouldn't have hurt her."

"I'm sure she knows nothing happened. You were in there for maybe three minutes..." Jon stated. "Plus anyone of us could have come in at any time."

Diola flung furious eyes at Towumi. "Kurt, you say that girl is your fiancée's best friend? _Na wa._ You've heard the saying: birds of the same feather flock together..."

Kurt sighed. They do, don't they? What did that say about Abomeli?

Jon's phone buzzed. He stared at the screen and groaned.

"Sister Do Good?" Kurt asked, smiling.

"Yep." He drew in a breath and answered, "What is it this time, Valentina?"

"I was speaking to you and you cut the line!" she screamed.

"And it took you all this time to call me back."

"That's the problem with you. You never listen—"

Jon raised his voice a few decibels higher. Damn, he was tired of her whines. "What did you call me about?"

"I was telling you about how difficult it's been for me to handle Isabella's party singlehandedly."

"And I asked you what else you wanted me to do."

"You have to try harder, Jon. You have to—"

"Shit! Will you stop?"

" _What?_ "

"You know what? I'm thinking I'll take Isabella off your hands. She'll live with me in Nigeria and I'll take care of the major parenting."

"Are you accusing me of not wanting to care for my daughter?" Valentina shrieked.

"I'm coming next week. We'll talk."

"Let's talk now."

"Goodbye, Valentina." Jon ended the call.

"Wow..." Diola said, eyes wide. "That sounded heated. You're actually thinking of bringing Isabella to Nigeria? Wow... will Valentina go for it?"

"We'll see, mom."

***

"You have to stop working yourself up over nothing," Leke said, gazing down into his sister-in-law's strained face. They stood facing the wall of the pool house, out of sight of the pool.

Laide rubbed her eyes with a fist. "He just can't stop."

"Come on, you know he didn't have sex with her. Not with you likely to come in at any moment and catch him. He's many things but Toke's not stupid."

"No, he's not." She raked a hand through her hair. "Leke, I know he loves me, I do."

Leke smiled. "And you love him."

She laughed softly, blinking back tears. "Yes..."

"And come on, look at you..." he aimed a hand at her, fingers together, "You're gorgeous. Much better looking than that girl."

"You think so?"

His heart melted at the uncertainty in her eyes. She was usually self-assured, even a little stuck-up. Aside from Toke, he was the only other person in their family to whom she displayed her vulnerability.

"She's a short haul girl... you're a long haul woman."

Laide laughed. "Leke... this is a new one. Short and long haul. I like it."

"You see... you're looking better already."

She lifted her eyes to his. "You always know how to calm me down." Her arms ascended and wound around his neck. Her face jumped upward. Her lips touched his.

Leke froze.

She'd done this once before, after the Theresa debacle, and he'd refused her then. She had to stop throwing herself at him. Toke was his brother and he definitely didn't want to ruin the relationship they had. Plus, she was like a sister to him.

He unwound her arms from his neck and moved his lips out of reach. "Laide, don't."

"It should have been you. I wish I had met you first."

"Don't say that. You're my sister. And I understand... how you're feeling... but please don't do this again."

Her shoulders slumped and her voice lowered. "You're such a gentleman."

"I'm not, believe me. It's just that I love my brother and I love you... as a sister. And like the last time, I won't tell Toke about this."

She glanced down at her feet.

"Go and talk to him. Please."

"Okay."

***

Laide was back. The circle had broken. She and Toke were on their own, talking in low tones. Abomeli was back by Kurt's side.

Abomeli stroked Kurt's arm. "Babes, you remember that some weeks ago you promised to buy the photography equipment for my brother's business. He needs the money in a few days."

Kurt pulled his arm away and glared at her. " _Ach nee?_ Is that all you think about? Money?"

"Babes!" she protested. "But you promised."

"Why I do have to take care of everything? I paid for your makeup course. I buy you anything you want. You went shopping in Dubai with your friends... guess who took care of that? And let's not forget your mother's breast cancer operation some months ago..."

She scowled at him. "I didn't force you to do all those things. You don't have to make a big deal about it."

" _Nein,_ I'm trying to say that this isn't the right time and place to ask me for money! Don't you get it?"

Abomeli hissed and glanced away, mouth puckered.

He stared at her. "And let's talk about your gold-digging friend, Towumi. She targeted my brother and caused a lot of trouble between him and his wife—"

"Hey, hey..." She raised one hand to his face. "Don't blame her. It's not her fault that your brother can't keep his hands off pretty girls. Everyone knows he's weak."

Kurt's head reared back in shock. Voice tinged with rage, he retorted, "Are you serious?"

"Yes-o, I said it."

"I can't believe that you actually said that." He shook his head, wondering why he'd chosen a serially penniless makeup artist instead of someone like his mom, Amelie, and his stepmom, Diola. Diola made money of her own, selling her paintings. She also farmed and sold catfish. Amelie was the director of a non-profit conservationist organization. And to think he had been planning to tell Abomeli that they could get married in three months, even though she'd tried to force his hand by going to the press.

### Chapter 10

Toke gripped his wife's hands. His voice was low and urgent. "I didn't touch her."

Laide stared at him, silent.

"Darling, I'm sorry. You know I love you."

She sniffed. Then, muttered, "You shouldn't have gone in there with her in the first place."

"You're right, darling. And I apologize for that."

"What happened in there?"

Toke thought fast. _Give her a portion of the truth._ "I showed her where she could pick something to wear and then where she could change. She... um... went in to change into her swimwear... I started to leave and then Kurt came in."

"I asked him where you were and he went looking for you."

"That's all that happened, darling, I promise." He eyeballed her, noticing how she looked at him. Penitent. Regretful. Laide, he knew, hated to lose control. He added, "You have to learn to forget about Theresa."

"I've forgiven you, sweetie..."

Ah, at last. He was back to being her sweetie. "Yes, but you need to forget about it."

She heaved a sigh. "You're right."

Toke clutched one hand, turned it over and kissed the inside of her wrist. In the spot guaranteed to make her melt. His lips moved to her soft palm.

Laide gave a soft sigh.

He kissed her again, inside her wrist, and felt her pulse jump. Toke tilted forward, pushing his face into her lap.

He whispered, "I love you, darling."

A pause and then her hand landed on his head. She said, "I love you too."

***

"I'm happy they've resolved their quarrel," Innocent said, a big smile on his face. He inclined his head toward Laide and Toke. His head was on her chest and her arms were around him. "All's well that ends well."

"Inno! Inno! Let's go home now!"

Innocent shot up from his seat, the drink in the glass in his hand spilling out onto the ground.

He twisted around and then gave a loud groan.

The woman halted in front of him, her face furious. She was heavy-set but light on her feet. Her hair was buried under a green scarf.

Innocent murmured, "Olachi, please. Not again..."

She narrowed her eyes at her husband. "What?"

"Why won't you allow me stay with my family and have fun for once?"

Olachi's laugh was more of a sneer. "Your family? I don't understand why you think Zik and his brood are your family."

"Because they are. He's my cousin."

She hissed. "You like to forget that his father killed yours for the _Igwe_ title."

Zik got up, followed by Diola, Kurt, Jon and Leke.

Innocent hung his head. "Olachi, that's ancient history."

Zik frowned at her. He said, "Olachi, let him be. He's welcome here anytime... and you are too."

She eyeballed Zik from his grey bushy hair to the leather slippers on his feet and hissed. Back to Innocent. "Inno, let's go home."

"But I don't want to. I'm enjoying the party and there's the engagement dinner tomorrow—"

"As if that'll ever happen... Kurt will never marry."

"Hey! Aunt Olachi!" Kurt protested.

Olachi ignored him. Toke and Laide walked over to join the rest. Priye and Etoro stood apart, pretending like nothing was happening. Towumi and Abomeli, on the other hand, were focused on the action.

Innocent muttered, "I don't know why you like dredging up old family history... Zik is my cousin."

"And I don't know why you like licking his ass like an obedient little puppy!"

He put up one cautionary hand. "That's enough, Olachi."

"What? Is it not true?" She tugged at her right ear with one hand. "I have warned you about him and his boys. Like father, like son."

Diola's eyes flashed. "What does that mean?"

"It means that we all know he and your boys murdered the men who kidnapped and killed his best friend, this one's father..." She aimed her head at Jon.

"You're talking rubbish, Aunt Olachi," Leke stated, eyebrows merging.

"This one?" Jon queried, his grey eyes cold.

Olachi turned on Jon. "Yes, you. You're a sex offender and rapist!"

Jon's head shifted from side to side, slowly. He pointed a finger at his chest. "I'm a rapist?"

"Yes! She was sixteen—"

"Olachi, that was a long time ago..." Innocent intervened.

Jon's voice was quiet steel. "It was consensual."

Olachi shrugged that off. "You're lying."

"I'm lying... okay then... here's another tidbit for you that I've never mentioned before..."

Toke clutched Jon's hand. "Don't."

Jon ignored him. "Your sixteen year old daughter was the one who made the first move. She stuck her tongue in my mouth, put her hands in my pants and pulled out my—"

"Okay, okay..." Diola interrupted. "No more of that Jon."

Olachi advanced toward Jon. "You are a liar! A liar and a rapist!"

"I will not allow you to continue insulting my son, Olachi," Diola shouted. "Now, get out of my house."

Innocent tossed an apologetic smile at Diola and Zik. "I'm so sorry."

"Why are you apologizing?" Olachi muttered.

"Because you're being rude."

"Leave now, Aunt Olachi," Kurt snapped.

She hissed once more and gripped her husband's arm. The glass fell from his hand onto the ground and broke into countless pieces.

"Now look what you've done," Innocent said.

Olachi lifted her nose. "What? It's no big deal. One of their numerous servants can clean it up."

Innocent shook his head and said to Zik, "I'm sorry, Zik. We'll talk later."

Zik nodded. "Later. But Inno, she has to stop doing this."

"I know, I know..." Innocent said, sighing. He turned to his wife. " _Oya,_ let's go."

She stalked away from the pool side, Innocent tagging behind.

Zik stroked his beard, watching them go. He muttered, "That woman is poison."

"Uncle Innocent is too gentle, that's the problem," Kurt said. "He needs to put his foot down. If she doesn't like us, that's fine. It doesn't mean her husband is not allowed to hang with us."

Toke nodded. "She's a basket case."

Abomeli skipped over to Kurt. Eyes round with curiosity, she asked, "Is it true?"

He eyed her. "Is what true?"

"All she said. That you guys killed Gabe Scott's murderers and that your grandfather killed his brother."

Kurt seized her by an arm and took her out of earshot. He glared down at her. "Why would you ask me that?"

"Because I'm going to be a member of this family and I need to know the truth."

Kurt stared at her and suddenly, the light came on in his head. He now knew, indeed had always known, the real reason why he hadn't set a date for their wedding.

He scratched his beard. "About that..."

"What?"

"I think we should postpone the dinner. I need some more time."

Abomeli's eyelashes fluttered crazily. "What are you saying?"

Kurt shrugged. "What I just said."

She stared up into his face, eyes angry. "You're trying to break up with me. I know it. Admit it, Kurt."

"Did I say that?"

"Admit it. Tell the truth. You don't want to marry me."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Fine. If you want the truth... yes, I don't want to marry you."

"Kurt!"

"You wanted the truth."

"Babes, what have I done? I love you... I love you, babes..."

He bit his lip. "I'm sorry."

"Babes!" she gaped at him, stunned by the look in his eyes. "A few hours ago you told me you loved me. You held me in your arms and told me—"

"I'm sorry, Abomeli."

Abomeli threw her body at him. Her arms encircled his waist. "Babes, please, don't do this. I'm sorry for whatever I did."

"It's not you, it's me. I don't want to... get married to you..."

The tears filled her eyes and spilled out onto her cheeks. "No, Kurt, I won't accept that."

He sighed and glanced up into the dark, black midnight sky. The feeling of relief was washing over him, lightening his shoulders. He should have done this weeks ago.

His gaze descended to her face. She really was pretty but he couldn't marry her and there was no point in just dating her. "Abomeli, you have to stop. I've made up my mind."

"Is it because I asked if you and your family are murderers? Is it because I leaked the fake story to the media?"

"It's not you..."

"Stop saying that!" she screamed. "That doesn't mean anything."

Gently he unclasped her hands from his waist. "Abomeli, it's over."

"Babes! I love you!"

He walked away, to rejoin his family.

### Chapter 11

Diola angled her head toward Abomeli, weeping in Towumi's arms. "What's that about?"

Kurt groaned and started to reply. But then, he heard the two girls shouting his name. He stared in their direction.

Towumi and Abomeli were coming forward, yelling angry words.

Abomeli was the first to start. She aimed a finger at Kurt, tears streaming from her eyes. "You're a cold-hearted bastard!"

Kurt flinched. She had deliberately chosen the word 'bastard'.

"You think you can treat me like this, after all this time?"

Jon mumbled, "I guess the engagement is off."

"You are wicked!" Abomeli shrieked. "You are a heartless bastard!"

"I'm heartless..." Kurt said, battling to control his fury. "After all I've done for you and your family."

"You're rich. You have the money."

"I didn't have to do all that I did for you. I loved you."

"I should have known you were going to do this! You've been holding back, dragging your feet."

"And so you thought that if you lied to the press it would force me to set a date. You don't know me, Abomeli, you never have."

"At least I know you and your family are crazy... the mighty Achikes... you're all crazy! Rapists, killers, murderers..."

Diola clapped her hands together in surprise. "Is that so?"

"And yet... moments ago, you were desperate to become one of us... to become the first Mrs. Kurt Achike," Laide joined in.

Towumi spoke up, glowering at Laide. "You people think you're so special. And as for you, madam, you're a fool. Your husband wanted me. I could see the evidence in his trousers. If we hadn't been interrupted—"

Laide smiled coldly. "You are a silly tramp. Who do you think you are? You think you could come in here and take my husband from me? After six years of marriage and four children? Go, crawl back into the dung heap from where you came."

"Wow," Leke whispered.

Towumi dissolved into tears.

Enraged, Abomeli's voice rose. "I'll tell everyone! I'll tell the world that Kurt Achike is a heartbreaker! You're a heartless bastard and the public must know who you are! You should be called Kurt Achike, the _Breaker of Hearts._ "

He switched his gaze from her to his Richard Mille watch. "Abomeli, I think you've overstayed your welcome. Your time is up."

Jon laughed.

Etoro and Priye materialized beside the two weeping women. Etoro said, "Ladies, it's time to go."

"Who are you? You have no right to speak to me like that." Abomeli glared at Etoro.

"Please leave quietly. Don't make me move you."

"You?" Abomeli's scornful gaze brushed over Etoro.

Leke cut in. "Yes, her. She works for me. And you know what I do. Unless you want to find yourselves on the cold, wet floor, hands behind your back, I suggest you walk out now."

"Fine. Good riddance to bad rubbish." Abomeli spun around and then paused. "I'll come and pick our things later."

Kurt said, "You don't have to. I'll send them to you."

Abomeli tossed him a look full of spite and then stamped away, Towumi at her heels.

For a long, pregnant moment there was silence.

Then Jon winked at Toke and said, "That's sixty thousand naira. Pay up."

Toke grunted and then muttered, "I'll transfer twenty thousand each to your accounts."

Zik put a finger to his lips, glowering at his two sons.

Diola's eyes thinned. She addressed her husband. "What's the money for?"

Kurt said, "My guess is... for a bet. Whether I would go through with this engagement or not."

Diola gasped. "How could you? Zik, you too? I'm disappointed."

Zik frowned at Jon. "Thanks son."

Kurt shrugged. "Don't get angry with them, mom. I would have done the same thing in their shoes."

"That's horrible, though," Diola said.

"I said the same thing to Leke and Toke earlier," Laide stated.

"It's no big deal. Just some harmless fun," Jon said.

Kurt put his hands on his hips. "The engagement dinner is canceled and I've wasted everybody's time. I've broken off my second engagement and apparently, according to Abomeli, I should be called the _Breaker of Hearts._ Oh—plus, my father and brothers placed a bet on the outcome that I would end my relationship with Abomeli—"

"Not me. For the record, I was the only one who believed you would go through with it," Toke said.

"And that's why you're paying us sixty thousand naira," Leke said, chuckling.

Kurt said, "I should be devastated. I should be heartbroken... I was with her for over a year...."

His family stared at him.

"But..." his shoulders began to shake. With laughter. "It's funny... the bet, Abomeli's anger, Aunt Olachi and Uncle Inno... I shouldn't be laughing..."

Toke's laughter burst from his mouth. Followed immediately after by Zik's loud roar, Diola's reluctant chuckle and Laide's soft giggle.

Jon guffawed, slapping Kurt on the back.

Leke said with a grin, "It was a great party."

And Kurt doubled up, laughing.

###

Thank you for reading _Pool Party_ , the Prequel to the Sons of Zik Romance Book Series.

Writing is fun but it isn't easy. I'd appreciate a review of _Pool Party_ at your favorite retailer or wherever you downloaded it from. Thanks.

For information about Areta's books, click here.

The Sons of Zik Book Series consists of three books, one for each unmarried son of Zik Achike.

Do you want to know more about Zik's infamous sons? Read on.

Introducing the Sons of Zik

Kurt Achike, the eldest of the Sons of Zik and owner of a nightclub is part Nigerian and part German. Even though he really believes he wants to get married, he just can't bring himself to take the final step to the altar. Kurt is featured in Book 1 of the Sons of Zik Romance Book Series.

Tall and dark Leke Achike takes everything seriously, including dating. For now, he's focused on his bodyguard business and has no time for a wife. Leke also has a secret. One he doesn't want his family to know about. Leke is featured in Book 2 of the Sons of Zik Romance Book Series.

American, grey-eyed single father Jon Achike-Scott is Zik's adopted son. He's a brilliant cardio-thoracic surgeon but when he's not working, his motto is: too many women; too little time. Jon is featured in Book 3 of the Sons of Zik Romance Book Series.

Toke Achike is a father of four, a state commissioner and a happily married man... except for the moments of weakness when he indulges in extramarital affairs.

Read on to learn more about Book 1 in the Sons of Zik Series.

Sons of Zik Series, Book 1: _An Unexpected Match_

He's ended 6 relationships and broken off 2 engagements. It's her job to find him a new girlfriend but she wants him for herself.

Big-hearted divorcee matchmaker, Farida Yusuf has a job to do. Find a match for her prestigious client: Kurt Achike, a part-Nigerian, part-German god with curly hair and a dimpled, bad boy smile.

Kurt is of royal blood, first of the four heart-stoppingly attractive sons of infamous and controversial Zik Achike.

There's no doubt that he is the kind of man most women would want. There's just one tiny problem.

Kurt has a habit of breaking engagements.

Nicknamed the _Breaker of Hearts_ by the public, Kurt has broken off engagements to two women. And now he needs Farida's help.

Farida has to find him a girlfriend, even though just the thought of him empties her lungs of air and leaves her breathless.

But how will she ever be able to introduce him to another woman when she wants him for herself?

Plus in _An Unexpected Match_ : more adventures and scandals of the four infamous sons of Zik, a dognapping, an illegitimate baby on the way, a boat-trip to a drug kingpin's house, family secrets and a contract killer named Mr. Nuclear...

_An Unexpected Match_ is a juicy, hard-to-put-down mix of drama, romance and suspense.

To buy and read _An Unexpected Match_ , click the link below.

 Books by Areta

Read on for an excerpt from _An Unexpected Match_ just for you!

_An Unexpected Match_ Excerpt

Only five years ago, she had been completely certain that she and Yomi would be together always, would grow old together. Just like hundreds of other blissfully happy couples in Lagos. How could she have guessed that her life would turn out this way?

Farida Yusuf gripped the steering of her 2010 Honda Accord CrossTour and pulled in a deep breath. Her gaze skirted off the patch of lighter skin around the ring finger of her left hand and returned to the stretch of the Lagos-Ibadan Expressway ahead.

She sighed. It wasn't only his fault. She'd noticed the cracks in their relationship a long time ago. She'd just refused to acknowledge them.

Farida glanced through the windscreen. The pale rays of the early morning sun washed over the stream of cars and trucks heading into Lagos.

Her gaze landed on a silver 2017 Range Rover inching forward through the traffic. What a beautiful car. If only she could afford a ride like that. Maybe some time in the future, hopefully after the launch of her reality show, the news about _One Plus One_ would spread everywhere and pull in more clients.

Farida eased her car forward, allowing a comfortable distance between her Honda and the Range Rover.

She was grateful for a lot of things, though. The main one being the fact that she was doing what she loved to do, something she was great at, and earning a good income in the process. How many people could say that? She had attended a wedding in Ibadan yesterday, had been the Guest of Honour. Both the groom and bride had been her clients. She had matched them together and soon after, they had started dating and now only eight months later, were married. She could do it for others. How come it was so difficult to do it for herself?

If only Yomi would just give her some breathing space and stop pressing her about the money she owed him. She'd promised to repay him. All she asked him to do was give her some time.

She squeezed the steering wheel again, impatient to get to her office in Victoria Island. She should have left Ibadan yesterday evening instead of waiting till this morning. Heavy traffic into and within Lagos had become default. Every day of the week, especially weekdays. Bumper-to-bumper traffic. Ugh. She should have left the wedding reception early. She should have—

A trailer's horn blared, interrupting her thoughts. The horn screamed again and again.

Farida scowled. She glanced to the lane parallel to hers, going the opposite way. A rickety truck lumbered along the road, slowing the progress of the impatient, horn-pressing trailer behind.

She shook her head. What would sitting on your horn do, for goodness sake? Would it make the decrepit old truck move faster?

And then her eyes widened. "No, no, no..."

Without warning, the trailer swerved out from behind the offending truck, straight into the path of the silver Range Rover.

Farida tapped her foot on the brake and swung her car to the right.

Up ahead, tyres shrieked. The Range Rover veered to the right, a sudden, sharp motion, aiming to avoid an impending face-to-face collision.

She watched, open-mouthed, as the trailer zoomed onto her lane, its horn still bellowing. The Range Rover edged away, right on time, out of harm's way, into the tree-lined roadside. The trailer bypassed the truck, returned to its lane and sped off.

Farida's heart pounded. _Oh my. Thank God._ She glanced toward the other car. It had come to a stop by the trees.

She didn't stop to think. Farida pulled to a stop behind the Range Rover. She rushed out of her car toward the parked vehicle, stopped and then glanced into the window of the driver's side.

A man sat in the seat, head forward, lips moving. His hands on the steering wheel were trembling. _What was he saying?_

Farida rapped her knuckles on the glass.

His head twisted to face hers. He frowned but then, the window eased down. "Yes?"

She gazed at him. Gosh, he was handsome. With lead actor good looks. OMG. It took her a moment to reply, "I... I only wanted to ask if you're okay."

"I'm fine. Thanks for stopping to ask." Kurt Achike unglued his shaky hands from the steering wheel of his car and stared up into her round face and warm, caramel-colored eyes. Nice of her, whoever she was, to come over. Good too that she hadn't been able to hear the curse words that had been spewing from his lips just moments before.

He gulped air into his lungs, willing his heart to stop banging like a drum. God help that stupid maniac, the trailer driver. That man deserved a broken jaw and a night in jail. Scratch that. Many, many nights in jail. Maniac.

"I was behind you..." Farida mumbled. Now you can see he's fine, go back to your car, her mind advised. But his hazel eyes, a mix of light brown and dark green, kept her there.

"I'm good," Kurt said, dropping his hands to his lap. Surprising that she didn't seem to know who he was. Which was great. He was tired of being recognized everywhere he went.

She tossed a glance inside his car, at his ring-free hands on grey trousers, a grey jacket on the front passenger seat. "Okay. Bye, then."

She moved toward her car. No wedding ring on his finger didn't mean he wasn't married. And even if he wasn't, a man like him tended to date only models and superstars. Anyway, the traffic was easing off. It was time to continue her journey.

Farida entered her car and started the engine. In front, the silver Range Rover slid back onto the road.

***

Two hours later, Farida stepped into the lobby of her office. The receptionist, Esther, behind the dark wood reception desk, sat up. On the lime-green wall at her back, the name _One Plus One_ was emblazoned in white.

She grinned. "Good morning, Farida."

"Good morning, Esther." Farida glanced over at the young woman and caught the blue in her eyes. Esther loved wearing contact lenses, the more distinctive the better. The guy in the Range Rover had hazel eyes. Were they contacts? Probably not. His skin was fair, the color of toffee. He was, most probably, mixed-race.

"You have two calls. The manager of _Fever Pitch_ night club, Mr. Osita Osondu. He says he's been trying to reach you on your phone. He asks that you call him the minute you get in."

Farida blew air out of her mouth. She reached into her brown leather handbag and pulled out her phone. "I've been driving. I haven't had a chance to check my mobile." She glanced at the screen. Sure enough, there were missed calls. "Okay. I'll call him back. Who else?"

"Your father. He also mentioned that he's been calling your phone."

She shook her head from side to side. Gosh, again? Everything was an emergency with him. And it almost always involved money. "I'll call him later. Thanks, Esther."

"Just doing my job."

Farida smiled at her. "Still... thanks."

"Don't mention it... boss..." Esther grinned.

Farida laughed and walked into a corridor and through that to a door on the left. She unlocked it and sauntered in, switching the lights and the split unit air conditioner on as she did so.

She gazed around her office, pride swelling her chest. She did this. She built this business. Her eyes skimmed over the glass and chrome desk carrying her laptop and desk phone, to the framed testimonials on the daffodil-yellow wall behind her desk, down to the yellow carpet and up again, to the yellow shelves on the north wall, bearing rows of books and two slender glass vases, one parrot-green, one cherry-red.

Farida dropped her bag on a hexagonal table underneath the smaller of the two windows in the room and moved over to her desk.

Sinking into her white leather and chrome chair, she smiled and closed her eyes for a moment. She loved reclining in this chair, loved working from this office. She could stay here like this all day... But... no.

Opening her eyes, she grabbed at the desk phone and dialed.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Osita, it's Farida."

The man on the other end of the line groaned and then muttered, "Where have you been, Farida? I've been calling."

"I'm sorry. I drove in this morning from Ibadan."

"Ah. And you don't answer the phone when you're driving. What happened in Ibadan?"

Farida crossed one leg over the other, her eyes on the desk. "I attended a wedding."

Osita chuckled. "Clients of yours?"

"Of course."

"Well, I, for one, will always be grateful to you for bringing me and Clara together."

Farida smiled. "It was my pleasure, Osita. You don't have to keep thanking me."

"She's a wife in a million, a trillion... I'm lucky to have her. And it's thanks to you."

Farida glanced down at the walnut-brown peep-toe pumps on her feet that went so well with her new handbag. "Osita, I'm happy you're happy."

"Anyway..." Osita cleared his throat and added, "I finally talked to him, my cousin and my boss. He agreed to see you. He'll be coming in very soon."

Farida straightened in her chair, eyes wide. "Oh, you did it, Osita. I can't believe it."

"I promised you I would convince him to make use of your services. You remember that I mentioned that he's Zik Achike, I mean, _Igwe_ Zik's, first son. Kurt Achike, but you may know him better as the _Breaker of Hearts._ "

Farida laughed. "A little. I've heard a bit of the gossip but I don't know what he looks like or anything much about him."

"Like I said... he's my second cousin. He owns _Fever Pitch_ and he's single. If anyone can help him, it's you."

"I'll do my best."

"I know you will. I have another call coming in. Later."

Farida said, "Later, then." She put the phone down, a wide grin taking over her mouth. What a coup. She had snagged a big client _. Whoo-hoo!_

"Good morning, Farida." Nosa, her assistant, strolled in, a mug in his right hand. "You're a little late today. What happened?"

She glanced up at him, at his cute face and smooth features. Gosh, he looked so much younger than his thirty years. Sometimes, he made her feel older than thirty-eight. What had possessed her to get involved with him? Loneliness? Boredom?

"I drove in from Ibadan," Farida replied, glancing away to the yellow blind-shielded window on her right. Behind the blinds, the sun glowed, its hungry rays fighting to sneak into the room.

"Oh. Well, here..." Nosa placed the mug on the desk. "I brought you coffee, just the way you like it: two teaspoons of granulated sugar, four teaspoons of powdered milk." He bent over and his lips jumped onto her left cheek, very close to her mouth.

Farida jerked away, her hand almost shoving the coffee off her desk. She glared up at him. "Will you stop, Nosa?"

"I missed you last weekend. I thought you'd tell me to come over."

She puckered her lips as a frown garnished her forehead. "This is an office. You're supposed to act like a professional."

"It's hard to see you looking so good and not try to kiss you at least."

Farida sighed. "I'm not your girlfriend, Nosa. We're just... friends. Here, I'm your boss." Gosh, this is what a few kisses had cost her. Maybe it was time to end this. Whatever it was.

Her desk phone rang. She depressed the intercom button. "Yes, Esther?"

"Your client is here. I sent him to meeting room two."

"Thanks." Farida inclined her head at Nosa. "You heard her. We have a new client."

"Okay. I'm ready. You?"

She grabbed her iPad from inside her handbag with one hand and with the other, smoothed down her black weave streaked with dark brown highlights and cut in a slanted bob. "Yes. Let's go."

They exited her office, Nosa a few steps behind her, moved into the corridor and then turned to the right to an open door.

Farida entered first, into the spacious, white-walled room. A man in a grey suit had his back to the door, staring up into a painting of a gazelle standing poised, alert, on a plain.

He pivoted around.

She gasped. His eyes opened wide.

"You..." he said.

***

Farida stared at the man in front of her. The guy from this morning. He was her client? He was the _Breaker of Hearts?_ No wonder. He looked like he had broken a lot of hearts in his life.

Nearly six feet tall, with a broad chest that his grey bespoke jacket and white shirt couldn't hide. His hair was cut in a low fade with full curly brown hair on the top of his head. A light smattering of brown hair encircled the lower part of his face. And those eyes.

Unforgettable.

"You're Farida Yusuf? Wow. What a coincidence," he said and then smiled.

She tottered on her three-inch heels. Dimples. In his cheeks. How much more good looking could one man be? Was it fair? Say something, her mind shouted.

Farida stuck out her hand. "Yes, I am. And you're Kurt Achike."

"Otherwise known as the _Breaker of Hearts_..." He shook his head, eyes blinking, lips dancing as he took her hand and shook it. "Stupid title. Totally undeserved."

Nosa muttered, "Undeserved?" His gaze swung from Kurt to Farida. "You know each other?"

"We met this morning. On Lagos-Ibadan Expressway." Farida flashed a glance at Nosa and then glanced back at Kurt with a smile. "This is Nosa Egbede, my assistant. Please sit down, Mr. Achike."

Kurt nodded, unbuttoned his jacket and then lowered his taut body into one of the white leather sofas. Nosa plopped into another one, facing him.

Farida slid into the seat by Nosa's side, her pulse skipping. Gosh, this guy was making her nervous. Was it only his looks? Or was it also his bold and sensual scent?

She crossed one leg over the other and plastered a business-like smile on her mouth. "So, welcome to _One Plus One,_ Mr. Achike."

He placed his hands on the expanse of chair on either side. His hazel eyes gleamed. "Call me Kurt. Mr. Achike makes me feel like I'm sixty. I'm just thirty-nine."

He was only a year older than her. "Okay, Kurt. Why do you need our services?" She bit her bottom lip. "I mean... a guy like you shouldn't have problems with finding good women."

Kurt grinned, his dimples sparkling. "A guy like me?"

Nosa frowned. Farida glanced down at her fingernails. Gosh, this guy. He knew what she meant.

She swallowed and then said, "I mean... you have everything most women would want in a man."

"Yet I'm single. And I don't want to be. I'm ready to be in a committed relationship with a woman."

"Hmm." Farida nodded. Did he really mean it? She asked, "Do you mind if I ask you why you're called the _Breaker of Hearts?_ "

"No." He shrugged his shoulders. "I was engaged twice. I broke off both engagements."

"Why?" Nosa asked.

"Why did I break the engagements? I changed my mind. One woman didn't challenge me. She got... sorry to say... boring. The other had begun to rely on me financially for every little thing and I couldn't take it, so..."

"You mentioned you're ready to be in a serious relationship." Farida stared at his nose, avoiding those palm-wetting eyes. "Why now?"

Kurt smiled. Why wasn't she meeting his gaze? "In a year, I'll be forty. I had a plan for my life. By forty, I would be married. By forty-two, I'll have a child."

"So it's a personal goal?"

"Yes, right."

Farida placed her iPad on the seat beside her and steepled her fingers over her knee. "What are your preferences? And what are your must-haves?"

He forked his fingers through his curls. "Um. The usual. She should be friendly, fun, easygoing. She should have a job of her own, a means of income, and she has to be beautiful, in her twenties, late twenties, preferably. Slim. A UK size six or eight..."

Farida's eyes darted to the midnight black carpet. In other words, he wanted a model. No surprise there. She picked up her iPad and made a quick list.

Kurt glanced around the room. He liked the simple, stark black and white décor. From the moment he had walked into the building, he had been impressed by the invitingly pristine surroundings. And to think that his Good Samaritan from this morning was the brains behind this matchmaking business. According to his cousin, Osita, her firm had a very good reputation.

He flicked a glance in her direction. She looked the part of a successful businesswoman, in her royal blue dress and her shoulder-length bob. Although she was big, a size twelve probably, with a small waist and curvy hips, she moved sprightly. She looked to be in her late thirties. He couldn't see a wedding ring.

Kurt asked, "I hear that your clientele consists of affluent professionals and executives. True?"

"Yes. Mostly." Farida glanced into his eyes for a moment and then pulled her gaze away to the black pocket square in the front of his jacket. "From within Lagos and beyond. We also have matches from outside Nigeria. We prescreen each match with the Nigerian Police and with a private security company. So you can be sure that we're focused on your safety and well-being."

"I appreciate that." Kurt grinned. One hand stroked his beard. His dimples flashed.

Farida fought to control her breathing. This guy. Every action he took, touching his beard, smoothing his hair, smiling and exposing those dimples, all seemed to be aimed at raising the blood pressure of every female within range.

Nosa said, "We usually draw up a list of three possible candidates. Then we can help set up dates with each one, if you wish. And if you like one of the three more than the others, then our work is done. Otherwise, we start from scratch."

Kurt nodded. "That sounds okay."

"Wonderful." Farida gave him a smile. "I'll leave you to my assistant. We just need you to fill some forms and you're free to go."

Kurt returned the smile. He had a feeling that he and Farida would end up being great friends. He already respected her. She was accomplished and kind-hearted. It would be a pleasure to work with her.

***

Stepping into Cactus Restaurant, Farida's gaze fell on her two friends, Sobechi Utibe and Alera Beke, lounging around a table.

In a pinstriped black suit and grey-framed eyeglasses over her eyes, Sobechi sipped Coca-Cola through a straw. Honey-skinned Alera had her head down, her eyes behind gold-rimmed sunglasses fixed on the phone in her hand. A quarter-full glass of Chapman rested in front of her.

"Hey ladies," Farida called out, smiling.

Sobechi rolled her eyes. "You're late."

"Am I?"

"Yes. Seven minutes late."

Alera tore her gaze from her phone. She grinned, a white-toothed grin. "Don't listen to Sobechi. You know how bankers are..."

"What? How are bankers?" Sobechi asked, eyes round in pretend outrage.

"Uptight," Farida answered, drawing back the third chair at the table and falling into it. She traded a smile with Alera.

With her blond wavy weave tumbling down her back to her backside, her orange African print mini dress over avocado-green platform sandals, plus the rose flower tattoo on her right ankle, Alera looked every inch like a famous singer.

"Is Yomi still on your case about the money?" Alera asked.

Farida shrugged. Opening one of the bottles of water on the table, she replied, "He says he needs it. He's remarrying soon—"

"So he doesn't have money of his own to marry his girlfriend?" Sobechi asked, glaring.

"The three million was his."

Alera cut in, "Which he put into _One Plus One_ when you were both married. He's crazy if he thinks he should get it back. You're too soft, that's your problem, Farida."

"If it's me, I'll tell him to go and jump into the River Niger." Sobechi clapped one hand on the table.

Farida inhaled air. Her friends hated Yomi. But they didn't understand that she needed to pay him back. She just couldn't ignore his request. He had given her the money when she was going through a rough period in her business and for that, she would always be grateful.

To change the subject, she asked, "Guess what happened to me today?"

"I can't guess," Alera muttered, her eyes returning to her phone.

"Out with it. I'm on my lunch break. Get to the story, _abeg,_ " Sobechi said.

Farida poured water into a glass, took a gulp of the icy water. Delicious. Refreshing.

"What happened?" Sobechi yelled.

Farida grinned. "Kurt Achike is my client."

Alera ripped her sunglasses from her face as her eyes rose to Farida's face. "Kurt Achike, the _Breaker of Hearts_ —"

Sobechi stared. "One of the infamous sons of Zik."

"Kurt is your client?" Alera shook her head from one side to the other. "How did that happen?"

"He's Osita's second cousin."

"You're telling me he needs help meeting women?" Sobechi sank back in her chair.

Farida glanced at her friends' shocked faces. "He says he's serious about getting married. I guess he no longer wants to be the _Breaker of Hearts._ "

"The world is ending," Alera gasped.

Farida laughed, falling forward. "Alera, you're not serious."

Sobechi leaned toward Farida. "I'm a happily married woman but I just need to know... is he as fine up close as everyone says?"

Farida closed her eyes and took in a breath. Opening her eyes, she exclaimed, "Yes."

Alera guffawed at Farida's awestruck expression. "I see he made an impression."

"I won't lie. He did. But I'm not his type—"

"And he's your client."

Farida sighed. "Yes, Sobechi, he's my client. I hear he's the first son of this Zik Achike."

Sobechi scowled at Farida. " _This_ Zik Achike? That's an _Igwe_ you're talking about, madam. And Kurt is the Crown Prince. Don't you know anything about _Igwe_ Zik Achike and his four sons?"

Farida raised both hands, palms out. "I don't, I confess."

"Well, Zik Achike is a trained pilot and he owns many thriving businesses, one of which is _Zik's Air._ He studied briefly in Germany and there he met Kurt's mother. They didn't marry, though. But, to please his father, he returned to Nigeria to continue his studies. Here he eventually met Diola, his present wife. She's Leke and Toke's mother."

Alera eyed Sobechi. "How do you know so much about them?"

Sobechi rolled her eyes. "You girls have forgotten that my husband, Joshua, used to work with Toke Achike in _Zik's Air._ "

"Oh yes, yes, right." Farida nodded. "Well then, tell us more. So there's Kurt, Leke and Toke. Who's the fourth?"

Sobechi settled into her chair, enjoying the attention. "Well, Zik Achike finished his education in the States—"

Alera interrupted with a naughty wink, "And he impregnated another woman."

" _No!_ Shut up and listen. He met a close friend, Gabe Scott. Gabe had a young son. Soon after Zik came back to Nigeria, Gabe and his son started visiting and staying in Zik's house. One day, on the road to Nsukka, Gabe was attacked by kidnappers. They demanded a ransom. Zik paid but Gabe was already dead."

Farida wagged her head from side to side. "Oh my goodness, no. That's terrible. What did Zik do?"

Sobechi shrugged. "The police later caught and arrested the kidnappers. But they were killed in jail."

Alera slapped one hand over her mouth. "Who killed them?"

"I don't know. Some people say Zik paid to have them killed. Others say that he killed them himself. Anyway, Zik adopted Gabe's son. So Zik's fourth son—technically, the third because he's older than Toke—is Jon Achike-Scott. Now, among the four guys, only Toke is married. And he's the only one working for his father. He's CEO of _Zik's Air_. He's also a State Commissioner and Joshua said that he's to be the next Governor in a few years. The other brothers have their own businesses."

"Interesting," Farida murmured, her hand stretching out to pour more water into her glass.

Sobechi eyed the menu, murmuring, "We've got to order soon. I have to be back to the office in about an hour."

Alera huffed. "We'll be done before that." She funneled her fingers through her long hair.

"What's up with you, Alera? How are you coping with this scandal?"

"You mean, the stink my boyfriend, Daniel, is causing all over social media? My dear, _wetin I go do?_ _You wan make I cry?_ He's making a fool of himself. I've told him so many times that I'm not dating anyone else but he doesn't believe me. He keeps harassing my male friends, accusing them of sleeping with me. Look, look..."Alera stabbed an orange-painted nail at her iPhone on the table. The screen lit up. "He's sent me over fifteen texts since I've been sitting here, asking me where I am, what I'm doing, how long I'm going to be here and all that crap."

Farida sighed. "I'm sorry, babe."

"You should have let Farida fix you up too. She brought Joshua and me together. And remember, she warned you that this Daniel wasn't right, you said no, it's him you love."

Farida nudged Sobechi in the side. "It should be her decision, Sobe."

The screensaver of a beautiful Golden Retriever appeared for a moment on Alera's phone before it vanished.

Farida laughed. "No wonder Daniel is acting out. You love your dog more than him."

Alera grinned. "Macho's always been there for me. I can't say the same for Daniel."

"You need to see the boot of her car. Filled with dog food..." Sobechi threw her eyes to the ceiling. "Nature's Recipe chicken or something like that...

"Poor Daniel," Farida mumbled, her lips curving into a smile.

"Daniel has more things worrying him than her love for Macho." Sobechi made a gesture with a finger, rotating it by the side of her head. _He's crazy._

Farida patted Alera's hand. "Don't worry; I'll keep an eye out for someone good for you."

"No more talk," Alera shrieked. "Let's order, please."

###

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Interested in another free book? Sign up for _Passion Revisited,_ Book 1 in the Tangled Love Series.

Here's an excerpt of _Passion Revisited_

Excerpt of _Passion Revisited_

Dinner over, they were now on their second bottle of Cabernet, sitting beside each other on a light pink couch.

"You teach spin and self-defense classes?" Barak asked, staring at her over the rim of his glass of wine.

"Unhnn. And I'm starting a new business as a Private Investigator."

"Is that a joke?"

"No, why would I joke about my work?" Nikita flopped to her side and folded one leg under her buttocks. "What do you model?"

He sipped his wine and then replied, "Clothes, cars, perfume, underwear."

She hurled him a naughty grin. "That last one sounds interesting."

Barak pretended not to see her mischievous smile. "We're concentrating on you. The mystery woman."

"We'll get to me, but, first, I want to know just a bit more about you." Nikita downed the wine in her glass and ditched the glass on a side-table. "Your family, for instance."

He settled into the sofa. "My dad has two wives and six children. Five boys and a girl. My sister and I are from the same mother. My four elder brothers are children of the first wife."

"A big family. I, on the other hand, am an only child. My mom walked out on my dad when I was nineteen after twenty years of marriage. She moved in and later married this guy she'd had an affair with years ago."

"The Nigerian..."

"Yes. They'd attended the same university in Russia and met again in London. She was married to him for six years."

"They're divorced."

Nikita pressed her lips together. A vein beat in her right temple. How could she put this without telling him the truth? "According to my stepfather, she ran off three years ago with a new boyfriend."

Barak frowned. "According to your stepfather?"

"She and I were never close."

"Are you saying you haven't spoken to her for three years?"

She plucked at the material of her couch with restless fingers. "Can we talk about something else? Did you enjoy the meal?"

He nodded, sat up, placed his glass on a nearby table.

Nikita tipped forward, smiling. "I have a secret. I didn't cook the meal. My roommate did. He's a chef."

"I supposed I shouldn't be surprised. You lie."

The barb tore a hole in her gut. Her eyes sparked. "How long will you hold what I did to you over my head?"

"I should go."

"We could end up being good friends."

"I doubt it."

"Why?"

Barak gazed into her eyes. _Because I want you splayed out naked under me._ "Because, we can't be friends."

"Is it because we had sex? Haven't you ever seen two ex-lovers become friends?" Sitting this close to him, she could sense the heat flowing from his body to hers. Her voice dipped. "The sex was great, wasn't it?"

He couldn't tear his eyes away. "I should go."

"Don't," she whispered.

Barak's head moved, as if by instinct, toward hers.

Their lips lingered, two inches apart. His hot breath mingled with hers.

Nikita's eyes fell to his lips. His gaze played over her pink mouth.

He should get up and walk out of her apartment. Kissing her was not a good idea. It could lead to something more. But, don't you want that? his mind queried.

The distance between them waited.

She couldn't take it anymore. Nikita lunged forward.

Driven by desire, Barak's mouth clamped down on hers.

Mouths opened, teeth clashed, tongues stabbed.

A kiss of volcanic proportions.

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The Last Warrior Queen

A young woman, betrayed by her family and sold into slavery, returns to seek revenge on a gold-hungry, corrupt king and reclaim her inheritance to the throne.

Along the blood-drenched streets of her 16th century kingdom, she battles a cruel slave-owner and ancient monstrous creatures, mankind's fiercest enemies and happens to fall in love with a very sexy commander of the king's armies.

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Read on for a free chapter of _the Last Warrior Queen_

Meramara, 14th century Africa

From where Kann-Bako stood on the bow of the boat, he could see the shoreline of the kingdom of Meramara. He grinned in anticipation and sucked in a deep breath. At last! The famed gold of Meramara was finally within his grasp.

It had been a trying journey over many swollen rivers. At the start of the voyage, the men had been enthusiastic and expectant, but when the journey seemed like it would never end, their eagerness had started to wane. Some of them had begun to doubt that there really was a Meramara. After all, before they had set sail from their kingdom on this quest for gold, they had heard the gossip on everyone's lips about Meramara. People said that it did not exist. Others warned that anyone who went to Meramara was never seen again. Some said that it was inhabited by bloodthirsty spirits with magical powers, lying in wait for hostile foreigners.

Kann-Bako turned to face his sixty-odd army on this boat. He had amassed in total, a fleet of twenty boats for this expedition, and each of his warriors was fully armed with frighteningly sharp swords and single-shot firearms acquired through the trading of slaves with the Europeans. They were ferocious and ruthless men; each an expert at administering death.

Pointing to the shore and in a booming voice loud enough to echo through the entire deck, he announced, "There it is, men. Meramara! A fortune in gold awaits us!"

The men cheered. Some jumped into the air; others slapped their friend's backs; wide smiles were freely exchanged.

Kann-Bako smiled at this display of excitement. These were his men, and he would look out for them as always.

Tall, swarthy and bald headed, Kann-Bako was a mighty chieftain in his kingdom; in fact, he was his king of Damba's most trusted military commander. Because of the numerous battles he had won for his land, he enjoyed enormous popularity. Court musicians composed songs about Kann-Bako. They sang that he had never lost a battle and that even death was scared of him.

He had been in the army since his teenage years and was now in his early forties. Cunning and cold-blooded, skilled with every weapon known to his people, Kann-Bako feared nothing and no-one. He had gained a reputation of being unstoppable, daring and immortal.

So when the king of Damba heard the stories of a kingdom upriver, where there was unlimited gold, ripe for the picking, who better to send to this kingdom where the roads were reputed to be paved with gold than Kann-Bako?

With funding from the king's treasury, skilled boat builders were commissioned to build twenty seaworthy vessels, each capable of carrying sixty to seventy people. About sixty feet across and one hundred and fifty feet long, these boats had curved hulls and the bows and sterns arced upward and pointed vertically. This shape kept them high over the water, so that only the greatest waves could leap the sides.

The first sentry stationed on the hill overlooking the valley caught sight of the approaching boats. From the displayed sails, he knew that these were not friendly vessels. Meramara was in danger! He rushed to set fire to the beacon beside him, and when the flame caught hold and began to burn, he picked up a coiled horn and blew it three times. The air carried the three sharp blasts over the hill and to the sentry on the next hilltop.

By the time the boats had berthed and the armies were preparing to disembark, word of their arrival had reached the palace in the capital, Bodikar.

In the palace, the ruler of Meramara was holding court with the council of chiefs when a sentry rushed into the stateroom. He knelt before the exquisitely engraved gold throne and the regal individual who sat on it. In a quivering voice, he reported to his ruler the worrisome news he had just received.

There was a pause, a moment of silence throughout the room.

Then the monarch of Meramara turned to a palace messenger nearby and said, "Alert the twelve commanders of the armies. Tell them to prepare to ride out in a few minutes. I will be joining them."

Soon after, thirteen fighters rode out through the thirty-foot Great Gates of Bodikar to meet their one thousand, two hundred-plus invaders.

Meanwhile, Kann-Bako and his men streamed out onto dry ground, matchlocks at the ready. A shower of arrows welcomed them, shot from the bows of one hundred men waiting in the valley. Arrows struck two of Kann-Bako's men. The others cocked the hammers of their guns and aimed.

"Shoot!" Kann-Bako roared, and his men obeyed.

The Meramara archers fell to the ground, their arrows proving inferior to the deadly cartridges of the guns. The valley resounded with the loud cracks of each fired matchlock and the screams of the men as the slugs tore into their flesh. Seeing that they were hopelessly outfought, the remaining archers abandoned the skirmish and ran for their lives.

Kann-Bako turned to grin at the men behind him and said, "This is going to be easier than I thought."

They guffawed in agreement.

The mighty chieftain drew his sword and strode boldly ahead, followed by his valiant men. Their hearts sang with the confidence of impending victory. This land was theirs for the taking. His army advanced further into the valley until they were about sixty yards away from the bottom of the hill.

They had pieced together an idea of this kingdom from the tales of adventurous traders who had come into contact with a few people from Meramara. They knew that the capital city, Bodikar, where the gold reserves were reputed to be stored, should be on that hill.

Suddenly one of his men nudged him and pointed up at the hill. He said, "My lord, look!"

Kann-Bako glanced up at the hill. From where he stood, he could make out thirteen figures on horseback, clothed in bright red-hooded cloaks.

He drew himself up, expanding his barrel chest and announced, "My name is Kann-Bako, grand commander of the armies of King Izua of Damba. I am also known as The Destroyer of the Nations. My name strikes fear into the hearts of people all over the world. I have heard of the enormous wealth of your kingdom, and I want to secure that wealth for my king and my country. If you surrender peacefully, you avoid bloodshed, but if you resist, I will annihilate your people and burn Meramara to the ground."

In answer, the thirteen hooded figures dismounted and stood facing the invaders in the valley below. The bottom of their cloaks swept the dusty earth as they stood silent, with their faces shadowed.

"Are you hard of hearing? I will ask this only once more; do you surrender?" Kann-Bako roared.

"No!" A strident voice issued from the group of cloaked shapes, and then with a simultaneous fluid motion, they whipped off the red cloaks.

Below, the men gasped. Though it was too far to see their faces, their figures were undeniably female.

"Women!" a man murmured beside Kann-Bako.

"Yes, and that means that they are easier to kill," Kann-Bako stated, cold eyes fixed on the hilltop.

The women were similarly dressed in bright red blouses that stopped at their waists over baggy shorts, the ends pulled tight around their calves. They gripped swords and carried shields covered with finely decorated motifs of a sword in metallic gold, crossed by a streak of white lightning on a background of red.

"Though I don't believe in sending a woman to do a man's job, I have no qualms about killing you all. Where is your king? Is he cowering in fear in his palace?" His loud voice resounded across the valley and over to the hill.

One of the women stepped forward and shouted, "I am Alosha, queen of Meramara."

"Queen?" Kann-Bako's head fell back as he laughed for a few moments before bellowing, "Then, my queen, prepare to die!"

Aiming his rifle at the figures on the hill, he advanced.

But then something strange happened.

The queen charged down the hill toward them, swinging her sword and as her sandaled feet touched the ground, the earth started to quake and then the ground all around them began to crack.

Those who were unfortunate enough to be standing over one of these cracks sank in and vanished from sight when it suddenly widened beneath them. The earth had swallowed them up.

And the closer she came, the more the earth shook.

Speechless with shock, Kann-Bako could only gape as the supple-bodied woman ran towards them, right arm pulled back, right leg thrust forward.

At the same time, another woman sprang into the air without the aid of wings, soared above the hill for a minute and then with a yelled war cry, swooped down on the army in the valley, sword upraised.

One of his men screamed, "This is witchcraft!"

Hearing the hint of panic in his men's voices, Kann-Bako snapped out of his shock and yelled, "Shoot them. Shoot them both now!"

The men started to obey, but then another female warrior on the hill lifted her head, gulped in air, the air swelling her chest and as the invaders stared, she blew it out of her lungs in a gush. With a gigantic whoosh, the disproportionate breath from her lungs swept up volumes of sand, and in a flash became a powerful wind that submerged the entire valley in a sandstorm.

The unrelenting sand blinded and disoriented the raiders. Panic set in. Their guns were useless now. The men could not see, and they stumbled sightlessly across the valley. All around them was whirling sand.

Kann-Bako raised his hands in front of his face and gasped. He could not even see his hand! Despite the shrieks of terror all about him, he would not give in to fear. He was Kann-Bako, glorious chieftain of Damba! He would not give these witches the satisfaction of hearing him scream.

All of a sudden, he felt cold steel at his neck, and a warm, feminine voice whispered in his ear, "Destroyer of Nations, prepare to die. The gold of Meramara belongs in Meramara."

Unhesitatingly, Queen Alosha slit his throat from one end to the other and watched as his head toppled off his huge frame.

###

### About the Author

Areta Nwosu has been writing short stories and novels ever since she could wield a pen and now she's decided to write contemporary romance, romantic suspense, contemporary fantasy and chick-lit novels.

Her two other well-received novels, prior to the Sons of Zik Romance Series, are _Legacy of Strength_ and _The Last Warrior Queen._

She is also the author of a non-fiction book, _Bodyshape Intelligence for Busy Professional Women._

She lives in Lagos, Nigeria.

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