Amara was exhausted by the time she left the office, her mind buzzing with thoughts of the day's events. Femi Adeyemi had been insufferably smug, yet undeniably sharp. His ideas had merit—she couldn't deny that—but the way he dismissed her input grated on her.
"Just another overconfident returnee," she muttered to herself as she navigated the evening traffic toward her parents' home in Ikoyi.
Her parents' sprawling house stood as a testament to her father's success in the oil business. Amara parked her car and steeled herself before stepping inside. The dining room was already set for dinner, with her mother bustling about, ensuring everything was perfect.
"Amara, you're late," her mother said, giving her a quick once-over. "And look at you—so tired. How will you attract a good man looking like that?"
Amara groaned inwardly. "Good evening, Mum. Where's Dad?"
"On the terrace, speaking with our guest."
Guest. The word sent a ripple of irritation through Amara. She braced herself as she walked to the terrace. Her father, a towering man with an air of authority, stood laughing with… none other than Femi Adeyemi.
Amara froze for a moment, her heart sinking. Of all the people in Lagos, why him?
"Amara!" her father boomed, turning toward her. "Come meet Femi Adeyemi. He's just returned from London, and we're hoping to collaborate on some projects together."
"We've already met," Amara said coolly, stepping forward.
Femi turned, his face breaking into a surprised smile. "Miss Okafor. What a small world."
Her father raised an eyebrow. "You two know each other?"
"We're working on a project together at the firm," Amara explained, forcing a polite smile.
"Good, good," her father said, clearly pleased. "Femi is a brilliant man. You should listen to him, Amara. You could learn a lot."
Amara clenched her jaw. "I'm sure."
Dinner was a long and arduous affair. Her mother was at her matchmaking best, asking Femi about his family, his career, and his plans for the future. Amara mostly kept quiet, focusing on her plate and occasionally exchanging terse remarks with Femi.
After dinner, as the two of them found themselves alone in the living room, Femi chuckled.
"Well, this is unexpected," he said, leaning casually against the armrest of a sofa.
Amara folded her arms. "You mean awkward."
"Why awkward? It's not every day I get to meet a colleague's parents."
"You mean endure my mother's interrogation," she replied, unable to keep the edge out of her voice.
Femi smiled, his tone turning serious. "Look, about earlier… I didn't mean to come off as dismissive. I value your input. Truly. I just—"
Amara held up a hand. "Let's not do this. It's been a long day, and I really don't have the energy for pleasantries."
Femi nodded, seemingly unoffended. "Fair enough. But for what it's worth, I think we'll make a good team—if we can manage not to kill each other first."
Amara allowed herself a small smile despite her annoyance. "We'll see about that."
As Femi left for the evening, Amara felt a mix of relief and unease. Something about him unsettled her—not just his arrogance, but the way he seemed to see through her defenses. She shook off the thought as she prepared to leave, determined not to let him occupy her mind any longer than necessary.