Chapter 2

The gala stretched late into the night, the air thick with perfume, champagne, and the low hum of deals being made between old money families. Ezinne moved through the rooms like a shadow—clearing empty glasses, straightening cushions, refilling water pitchers—anything to keep her hands busy and her mind from replaying that brief moment by the flowers.

But her mind refused to obey.

Every time she caught a glimpse of Chukwudi across the room, her pulse quickened. He laughed with politicians and businessmen, shook hands with the kind of effortless charm that opened doors and closed contracts. Yet there was a restlessness in him tonight. She noticed how his smile never quite reached his eyes, how he kept glancing toward the quieter corners of the house, as if the weight of expectation was slowly crushing him.

She told herself it was none of her business. Girls like her didn’t get to wonder about the inner lives of men like him.

“Ezinne, the courtyard needs more drinks,” one of the senior maids whispered sharply, pulling her from her thoughts. “Quickly. And don’t dawdle.”

She nodded and slipped outside, the cool night breeze a relief against her warm skin. Fairy lights twinkled in the manicured garden, casting soft golden pools on the stone paths. She balanced a tray of fresh juices and small chops, her steps careful on the uneven ground.

That was when she heard it—his voice, low and frustrated, coming from just beyond the hedge.

“I told you, Mother, I’m not ready to settle down with anyone from the list. Not yet.”

Ezinne froze behind the tall flowering bushes. She knew she should turn around. Leave. But her feet wouldn’t move.

Mrs. Adeyemi’s voice was sharp, polished steel. “Chukwudi, you are twenty-eight years old. The company needs stability. Alliances. You cannot keep playing this lone wolf game. Choose one of the girls I introduced you to tonight. They understand our world.”

A bitter chuckle. “Understand our world? Or understand the size of our accounts?”

Silence stretched. Then his mother sighed. “This is not a request, my son. It is your responsibility.”

Footsteps moved away. Ezinne’s heart pounded so loudly she was sure it would give her away. She took a shaky step backward, but the tray tilted in her hands. A glass slipped.

It didn’t shatter loudly, but the sound was enough.

Chukwudi appeared around the hedge before she could recover. His eyes widened slightly when they landed on her.

“You again,” he said, voice softer than it had been with his mother. His gaze dropped to the spilled juice soaking into the stone, then back to her face. “Ezinne, right?”

She knelt quickly, grabbing napkins from her apron to clean the mess, cheeks flaming with embarrassment. “I’m so sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to—”

He crouched beside her without hesitation, taking the napkins from her hands. Their fingers brushed. The contact sent a spark straight through her.

“You don’t have to call me sir every time,” he murmured, wiping the stone with surprising care. “Not when we’re alone.”

Her breath caught. Alone. The word felt dangerous in his mouth.

She risked a glance up at him. Up close like this, under the soft lights, he looked even more striking—strong jaw shadowed with a hint of stubble, eyes dark and intense, like they could see straight through her carefully built walls.

“You heard all that, didn’t you?” he asked quietly.

Ezinne bit her lip. There was no point lying. “A little.”

He let out a long breath, sitting back on his heels. For a moment, the heir to one of Lagos’s biggest empires looked... tired. Human.

“Sometimes I feel like I’m drowning in expectations,” he admitted, almost to himself. Then he shook his head and offered her a small, crooked smile that made her stomach flip. “Ignore me. Bad night.”

She finished cleaning in silence, intensely aware of how close he was. The scent of his cologne mixed with the night jasmine around them. When she stood, he rose with her, towering over her curvy frame.

“Thank you,” she whispered, clutching the tray like a shield.

Chukwudi studied her again, that same flicker of recognition crossing his face. “You really do look familiar. Did you go to Federal Government College?”

Her heart skipped. He remembered the school. “Yes. Briefly.”

Something shifted in his expression—curiosity deepening into something warmer. “I thought so. You were always so quiet. Always drawing in that little notebook.”

Ezinne’s eyes widened. He had noticed her?

Before she could respond, voices approached from the main house. His mother calling his name again, sharper this time.

Chukwudi’s jaw tightened. He reached out, lightly touching her elbow for the briefest second. “Don’t let them see you cleaning this. Go. I’ll handle it.”

As he turned to leave, he paused. “Ezinne... it was good seeing you again.”

She stood there long after he disappeared, the place where his fingers had touched her arm burning like a brand. The night air suddenly felt heavier, charged with possibilities she had no right to imagine.

But for the first time in years, that old crush didn’t feel quite so one-sided.