Bummi.
Oh, my head. It hurts, but not too much...
Did I really have another hangover? I hope not.
The last thing I remember is being in my office and then suddenly passing out.
I opened my eyes...
But now I'm home? How the hell did I— "Lola?" She was sitting in the chair that Damian usually occupies, cradling a— "Wait, isn't that the teacup Pomeranian I gifted Damian last week?"
She was focused on the dog, petting it gently with a cute, sad expression. "Oh, my sweet little Bailey Molly, your mommy just woke up looking like a witch who lost a battle."
"Bailey Molly…?" Who named this cutie that? And who— "Who dressed her in this—pink shirt?" I propped myself up on my elbows, searching for someone. Where is Damian? Did he bring me home, or did I just end up here?
"Damian named her 'Bailey Molly' since you never chose a name—" She finally met my gaze. "You passed out at the office, so I called him."
Oh no. He has enough stress as it is. "Lola, you shouldn't have called him." Why did she have to disturb him? "Damian is a busy man. He has things to do, and calling him is just a distraction."
"I know, but he was the only person I could think of at that moment. He is your husband, after all."
"By contract, Lola." I corrected her. "This is a contract marriage. You shouldn't bother him with every little thing about me. I can handle my own problems. If you can't help, you should report my situation to the authorities instead of bothering Damian about my unconsciousness."
"Eww, chill out, girl." She switched to Nigerian pidgin, rolling her eyes. "At least take a breath. Nobody sees you two as a contract couple."
"And I don't care." I groaned. Who cares what they think? "How they see us doesn't matter. All I know is that one day, Damian will get rid of me, and I'll move on with my life." I mumbled "my life" as I looked at the ring on my left hand.
Lola caught on to my mood. "You don't really want to give up on him…"
She was right. I didn't want to. Something was shifting, and I found myself falling for him more every day. "I can see the way you're looking at that ring, and I know what's in your heart, B."
Ugh. "Tell me it's impossible for us to end up together."
"Hell no, girl." She frowned, clearly annoyed. "Damian and I talked today while you were unconscious—sorry, but he begged me to help him win you over."
"Totally?" Wow! So he thinks he's made some progress because of that kiss at the gym? I won't lie; I enjoyed it and the thrill of this roller coaster ride. "He actually said that to you? Like, the same Damian I know?"
"Would I lie?" she groaned. "He even called his family doctor to give you a private checkup. And guess what?" She crossed her arms as Bailey Molly jumped off her lap. "The doctor confirmed you collapsed from dehydration and malnutrition."
What the fuck? "I can believe the first one but not the second." What do they mean? "I've been living a healthy life since I was a kid, Lola —"
"But that doesn't give the rightful explanation why you always and should skip your meals—especially breakfast." She ironically emphasized the word 'Rightful.'
Wait a minute, "Damian, told you all of that?"
"Of course, if Sofia wasn't there to tell us during the time the doctor was checking, who could have?" She mumbled but I heard it.
Really? Sofia too? "Wow. Like wow, wow, wow! I love how you're flowing with everybody in this place."
"You better mount up your guard and keep your steeze because tonight, you are still making it up to that dinner date with his parents—and oh….." she drew closer, placing a backhand beside her mouth, causing me to frown as she whisper the words, "Damian looks super hot when he's shirtless." She winked at me.
What the—I'll kill him. "You—you didn't see anything, Lola. You hear me? You didn't see a single thing. He—he is my man."
She raised her hands in the air, claiming some innocence. "Relax bitch. Thank God you just agreed that he is your man for the first time and secondly, I'm not flirting with my bestie's man—like why the hell will I do something like that? I'm not like those bitches they write in a novel about stealing their besties man, girl. Come on." She rolled her eyes and brought out her phone. "I was just going to show you how hot and fit your man looks in the kitchen making lunch for his 'Darling' wife."
I snatched her phone with immediate effect and quickly deleted the picture. "That is not Damian and he doesn't cook." I toss the phone back at her. Although, I know Lola is not that type of girl, anyway.
She groaned as if giving up on something. "You should have better said he is too hot to be cooking or you haven't seen him cook or rather, he is too egoistic to be in the kitchen, B. Damn, that guy is killing this whole mansion with the sweet savory aroma of what he's cooking. Some men cook? Never thought we still have men-chef in this era."
Lola must be overthinking things. I swung my legs off the bed and decided to see for myself. "This has to be a joke."
"B, Let me help you pick the perfect outfit for your dinner date," I heard her say through the closed door. "And you're not going to work for two weeks because Damian already spoke to our boss."
Did he really demand a two-week leave? Does he even know my boss?
This guy… he's just too much.
I rushed down the stairs and headed straight for the kitchen.
And there he was—wearing an apron and, as Lola said, truly shirtless.
His tattooed chest glistened, and this was at least the third time I'd seen him like this since moving in.
What was he cooking? He seemed entirely absorbed in his work, multitasking as he moved around the kitchen. His headphones were on, the music so loud he didn't even notice me.
Where were the cooks and chefs? How could they let their boss do all the work? And where was Sofia?
Maybe Lola was right; he was helping. But I didn't need her to tell me he was hot. I couldn't tear my eyes away from him, relishing the view.
I leaned against the doorframe, wrapping my arms around myself.
Was he taking on this stress for my sake? Abandoning work to make me lunch?
Did I even deserve this? Does this contract deserve this deep hospitality and submission?
I had to admit, men like him were rare. Lola was right again.
I watched as he washed the vegetables and diced them into small pieces. What was he cooking? The whole place was filled with a mouthwatering aroma, and I was completely captivated by it.
"Hey," he said, catching me in the act. He dropped the knife and leaned in to plant a soft, quick kiss on my lips.
God… that kiss. I wished it could last for hours.
"Hi," I managed to say, smiling.
"Good thing you're awake." He returned to his task, still focused. "How are you feeling now?" he asked, not looking my way.
Seizing the moment, I hugged him from behind, resting my head against his muscular back. "Thank you."
He held my arms around his waist and gently turned to face me, caressing my cheek with his thumb. I loved how he did that. "For what?" he asked, smiling sweetly. His deep, husky voice sent shivers down my spine. "Tell me, hmm?" He stole another quick kiss. Why were the kisses always so brief? I loved the lingering taste. "The thing is, I really don't like that you keep skipping your meals." he said.
"I'm not," I chuckled, realizing I had wrapped my arms around his neck. "Lola already told me everything, and I'm sorry she bothered you while you were busy."
He fought back a chuckle. "Busy? Okay, I admit I was 'busy,' but when it comes to you, I'm not." The sincerity in his eyes made me pull back and step to the counter.
Seriously, he had to stop. We both understood this game. We were adults, after all. "Damian… I appreciate what you're trying to do, but we both know this is just a contract agreement. It'll end one day, and you don't have to go to such lengths for me. You don't need to cook for me, make my boss give me two weeks off for my health, or buy me a Lamborghini, or a new phone, or even skip important appointments just because of me. I care about your heart as much as mine. I don't want to deal with the trauma after it's over. I like how things are now, but we both know it can't last. So please, understand." I felt it was important to remind him, just in case he had forgotten.
He walked up to me, caging me against the counter with his arms. Looking deep into my eyes, I expected him to say something profound.
Instead, he said, "Pearl, screw the contract. I really like you. In fact, I love you with all my heart." Oh. My. God. "I've stopped playing the contract game a long time ago. It's surprising that you're only just realizing my feelings now. I married you for real, and this relationship isn't ending. No breakups, and no one will suffer trauma."
Then he dropped to one knee like a true romantic proposal. "Please say, 'Yes, you do.'"
OMFG! Is he serious?!
Tears filled my eyes because I didn't want to leave him either. He had just confessed his love for me—exactly how I felt.
I covered my mouth to stifle a sob. "Yes, Damian. Yes, I do." I shook my head vigorously. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him. I had been dying to hear this, thinking it was all just a contract.
He pulled me into a tight hug, and I leaned my head against his chest, closing my eyes. I felt him kiss my forehead and sigh. "Thank you." Another gentle kiss.
After a moment, I pulled away and glanced around, especially at the chopping board and pot. Seriously, he must be a chef. I chuckled. "What are you cooking?" I pointed at the ingredients. "What's all these?"
He laughed and returned to the chopping board. "Nothing much. Just making lunch for my adorable, priceless wife."
He was definitely a charmer. "And what is that?"
"Um," he shrugged, still focused on his task. "Tomato shrimp linguine."
"Hmm, really?" I crossed my arms, leaning against the counter. "Wow, I never thought we had a chef in the house."
"Be grateful," he grinned proudly.
Silly.
I grabbed an apron from the hanger. I was going to join him in making lunch. "So, where did you learn to cook?" I tied the strings at the back.
"Um, my older brother." Really? I expected him to say 'my mom.' "He's a business tycoon." he continued.
Like you? I wanted to add. "He owns a large restaurant chain."
Hmm. I nodded, understanding his point. I opened the top cupboard and pulled out two 500g packs of linguine. "So… your mom taught your brother, and he passed the lessons on to you?"
He hesitated, then shook his head, his expression turning serious. "No. My mom was always busy—she barely had time for us. My brother studied in Italy and Spain and became a professional chef along the way."
Wow. He spoke as if his mother had passed away.
It was a sad tone.
Maybe we'd be meeting his stepmother for dinner tonight.
To lighten the mood, I quickly said, "You know what? I would really love to meet your older brother. The same one you're talking about."
He chuckled, clearly amused. "Of course you will. To be honest, he's seen you already—just not in person." He winked at me.
I lightly punched his arm. "You've got to be kidding me! Tell me you didn't show him that beach photo—that's the only decent one I sent you before we met!"
He nodded. "Yes, during our online date—I remember." He 'tsk'ed, confirming he had shown it.
"You are such a maniac…" I shook my head, feeling shy.
He just grinned and laughed. "You look hot. That's the photo I used for my screensaver." He pulled out his phone to show me, and there I was in a bikini. When I gasped, he smirked. "Don't worry, my brother is the only one who has seen it. But I won't forget to use it as wallpaper in our room."
Oh, Damian. "You will not dare." I pretended to be serious, but I loved it.
"Come on," he tucked his phone back into his pocket. "I'm just keeping this for when you leave me to visit your family—" So I'm allowed to see Mom and Nifemi? "I can easily soothe my heart with th—"
"Hey, where the hell did you put the Netflix remote?" A guy I recognized as a popular celebrity stood in the kitchen entrance.
Wait, who is this in front of me? I blinked, and he completely ignored my presence, focusing on Damian.
"Oh, I think I left it in the—" Damian was saying until I opt in.
"Oh my God, Damian—" I gasped, interrupting him. I tapped his shoulder, but he gave me a confused look—so did the guy. I pointed at him, still in shock. "Travis Scott is in our house! He is… he is… he is Travis Scott, right?"
He had to be. I was sure of it.
"Babe, he's my cousin, Ry—"
"OMG," I gasped, poking Damian's chest and making him frown even deeper. "You never told me Travis Scott is one of your relatives! How could you keep that from me? I just found out there's a celebrity in this family!" I turned to the guy, excitement bubbling over. "Oh my! I love all your songs. I'm really into rap—hip-hop, trap—you name it. I especially love that track featuring Asake—what's it called again?" I glanced at Damian, hoping for help. "Yes! 'Active' and the other one 'Fein' with Playboi Carti, yes, and—"
"He's not Travis Scott, Pearl," Damian interrupted. Wait, what? I was sure I was standing in front of the real Travis Scott. "He may look just like him—face, body, accent, tattoos, hair—but he's not Travis Scott." Then who? "He's my cousin Oluwatobiloba Ryan Maynard Ayomide. Also a popular celebrity in the limelight."
My mouth dropped open. So he was Ryan Maynard, the one who'd been at the fashion trade fair gala.
I turned to the guy, quickly apologizing. "I'm so sorry. I mistook you for—"
"It's alright," he replied with a warm smile, his strong American accent making me even more flustered. "I've been dealing with that my whole life." He winked, causing me to blush. I almost hid my face in Damian's chest, but noticed Damian glaring at Ryan. The guy didn't seem to care; he added, "Anyway, she's hot, Damian."
"Ryan, the remote control is in the TV locker. Go get it," Damian said, clearly trying to redirect the conversation.
"Hey, Ryan Maynard, right? Or Ryan May?" Lola burst into the kitchen, holding a pink dress—probably the one she wanted me to wear for dinner tonight. I hated pink; I'd much rather wear yellow, like the sun. She didn't wait for Ryan to respond before extending her hand for a handshake. "It's a pleasure to have you here. I'm Lola, Damian's wife's best friend. And yes, I know she looks awful in that apron right now." She pointed at me, and I mouthed, "Return that pink dress; I'm not wearing it."
What happened next made my eyes go wide. Lola beamed like she'd just won the lottery while Damian scratched his head, clearly annoyed.
Ryan took the back of her hand and kissed it. "It's a pleasure to meet you too, angel." I could see Lola giggling and blushing, thrilled to be getting attention from a celebrity. "By the way, you look familiar—?"
Lola cut him off. "Yes! You were at the fashion gala two weeks ago!" She dragged out the word 'yes' like she was on cloud nine.
I rolled my eyes, unable to help myself.
"Oh," Ryan nodded as if remembering something. "Would you like to join me? I was about to watch a movie on Netflix—"
"Absolutely!" Lola jumped in enthusiastically. "I'd love to!"
Once they left, Damian turned to me, his expression serious. "Just so you know, tell your friend: Ryan is a player. He's not looking to settle down and doesn't do commitments."
I swallowed hard.
I'd definitely keep that in mind for Lola's sake.