Officer, after that night with Raymond, there was nowhere safe left in the world for me. That was what I thought. Not Bose's house, not a hotel, not even my own skin. The only place my heart and body pulled me towards was Gregory. But fate, as always, had other plans.
I drove straight to Natasha's. My hands were trembling on the steering, eyes darting to the mirrors, convinced Raymond's car lights would appear behind me. He had never been one to let go. Bose was out of the question — she had opened the door to him too many times in the past, letting him sweet-talk her with promises that we'd "work it out." As for a hotel? That was worse. Raymond knew everyone; he could get me thrown out with a word, or worse, dragged back by force.
So Natasha's mansion was all I had left.
The gateman recognised me from the week before. He swung the gate open without question. I drove in, heart hammering, trying not to think of what awaited me inside.
When the front door opened, I froze.
Natasha stood there, in a pink nightgown, her hair in a matching silk bonnet, her face fresh and unpainted. She blinked at me, confusion flickering across her features. "Miss Timi?"
My breath caught. She wasn't supposed to be back yet. Gregory had said Abuja. Next week. My tongue tangled itself. "I… I came—"
"Oh, you're looking for Greg. He's not here at the moment."
My shock doubled. Gregory wasn't there?
She tilted her head, studying me. "But it's cold outside. Come in."
What could I do, Officer? Turn and run? That would be strange. So I stepped inside.
The corridor smelled faintly of jasmine and something sharper, almost medicinal. We walked to the living room, the silence thick as dust. My heart was climbing into my throat — not because of Raymond anymore, but because of her.
"Don't mind the mess," she said lightly. On the table, photographs were scattered, black and white edges curling with time. She went to the fridge, poured water, and handed me a glass.
"Please sit, Miss Timi."
I perched stiffly on the edge of the cushion. "Thank you."
She sat opposite, her legs neatly crossed, her eyes lingering on me longer than necessary. "I didn't expect to see you this late. Though Greg told me of the business you two discussed."
I nearly choked, water sputtering from my mouth and nose. What was she talking about? What business?
"Sorry," she continued, smoothly ignoring my panic, "I told him to hold off until you delivered my work, but you know Greg. He doesn't listen."
I forced a smile, wiping my lips. "Yes… about that. The job will be ready in a week. Just finishing touches."
"Good," she murmured, gathering some photographs. One slipped near my feet.
"Help me with that, please."
I bent, picked it up. The woman in the picture was beautiful — serene smile, eyes alive with joy. My mouth moved before my brain stopped it. "She's beautiful."
Natasha's lips thinned. "She was. Greg's fiancée. She died."
A cold shiver ran through me. His words came back — she fell from the balcony…
"She stole his heart," Natasha continued, her voice quieter now, her eyes unreadable. Then she looked at me, straight, unblinking. "And I can see why he looks at you the way he does."
My whole body turned rigid.
I muttered something about it being late. She didn't stop me. She only said, as I reached for the door, "Greg's having work done in his own house. That's why he stayed here. But he's back at Eko now."
I nodded quickly, relief flooding me. But before I could escape, she called again.
"Miss Timi."
I turned.
She pressed a folded paper into my palm. Her hand lingered a moment too long. "Here. Be careful. Don't fall."
The smile on her lips didn't reach her eyes.
When I sat in the car, my chest heaving, I unfolded the paper. An address stared back at me. Gregory's place. My throat tightened, tears sliding hot and fast down my cheeks.
"She just saved you," I whispered to myself. "Saved you from sleeping in the car, saved you from wandering the streets."
I wiped my face, started the car, and drove into the night.
Gregory's house in Eko was nothing like Natasha's modest mansion. It was sleek, modern, glass and steel, a man's fortress. When his gateman finally let me in and he opened the front door and saw me, his eyes widened, then softened.
"Timi."
I collapsed into him before words could form. His arms locked around me, strong, steady, pulling me inside.
The moment the door shut, the world outside ceased to exist.
We kissed like people starving. His hands gripped my waist, my back, my hair, pulling me closer, closer still. I tore at his shirt, desperate to feel his skin. The week apart had been a lifetime; the fight with Raymond had carved a hole in me that only Gregory's touch could fill.
"Greg…" I gasped as he lifted me, carried me across the room. His mouth found the hollow of my throat, his teeth scraping, his tongue soothing. My body arched, my nerves screaming alive.
He laid me on the bed, his gaze fierce, almost reverent. "You're safe here. With me."
Safe. The word unlocked something in me. I pulled him down, and the rest of my words drowned in heat and fire.
We loved each other that night like fugitives — desperate, hungry, terrified the dawn would steal everything away. His lips branded me, his hands carved me open and put me back together. I gave him everything, Officer. Everything I had left.
And in the not so quiet aftermath, after I sobbed my eyes out, when he cleaned me gently, when he kissed my forehead and held me close, I knew it: there was no undoing this.
I was his. Whatever the cost.
That night, Officer, was the point of no return. Raymond's fists had driven me out, Natasha's words had unsettled me, but Gregory's arms… Gregory's arms had claimed me. And I let them.