POV: Chioma
The air in Lagos was different.
It clung to my skin like damp cloth, thick with exhaust fumes, the scent of roasted plantain wafting from nearby roadside stalls, and the restless hum of a city that never truly slept. As our company van rolled to a stop in front of a sleek, high-rise apartment building, I felt my chest tighten with a mix of exhaustion and excitement. The kind of thrill you get when you realize you're standing on the edge of something you can't quite name.
One by one, the team stepped off the van, their faces marked with weariness from the long road trip but their eyes reflecting something else—curiosity, nerves, maybe even hope.
And then there was Kelvin.
He stood by the entrance of the building like a king surveying his kingdom, his tall frame cutting through the noise around us. Even in a simple black T-shirt and jeans, the man carried himself like royalty. His presence made people move differently, straighten up, lower their voices. Lagos was loud, but somehow, Kelvin's energy was louder.
An attendant appeared beside him with a tray of numbered keycards, each card sleek and metallic, reflecting the late afternoon light.
"Listen up," Kelvin called, his voice low, but sharp enough to cut through the murmur of the group. Instantly, conversations halted, and all eyes turned to him.
"You'll find your apartment numbers on these cards. Keep them safe. This isn't a holiday—you're here to fix a mess."
He didn't smile. He rarely did. That wasn't what drew people to him. It was the way he spoke, like every word mattered. Like he'd already thought ten moves ahead while the rest of us were still trying to catch up.
Names were called out one by one. Emeka, ever Kelvin's loyal shadow, took his card without a word, nodding once to him like some silent soldier. When mine was finally handed over, my fingers brushed against the cold metal, and for a fleeting second, I caught Kelvin's gaze.
Something flickered there. Unreadable. A glance too quick to decipher.
Then it was gone.
I looked down at the number.
504.
A strange thrill unfurled in my chest, a soft flutter of nerves. I hadn't just arrived in Lagos — I'd stepped into something more dangerous. A storm was brewing here, and somehow, I knew I'd be at the center of it.
"Unpack, settle in," Kelvin ordered, slipping his hands into his pockets. "We meet in the executive suite at 7 p.m. sharp. I don't tolerate lateness."
And just like that, he turned and strode into the building, leaving the group exchanging wary glances.
I traced my thumb over the cool surface of the keycard.
A storm indeed.
POV: Kelvin
"Sir, there aren't any more reservations in the company houses," Emeka informed me as he pulled out his tablet. "Would you like me to book your usual hotel suite?"
I barely looked at him. "No."
He blinked, confused. "How many rooms are there in the one Chioma's staying?"
"Two."
"Okay…" He hesitated. "Should I inform her she'll be having a partner?"
I turned my head slightly, my lips curving. "You heard me."
Emeka hesitated, then sighed, the way he always did when he was trying not to question me. "Alright, sir. I'll have the message sent."
I could feel his stare lingering, like he was trying to unravel my thoughts.
"Any problems?" I asked, arching a brow.
"No, sir," he replied quickly.
"I thought so too."
POV: Chioma
The email came in while I was unpacking a few clothes and toiletries into the bedroom's sleek wardrobe.
Due to limited space, you'll be having a partner in Apartment 504.
That was it. No explanation, no details.
I frowned, texting back: Hope it's a female.
No response.
Well… it had to be, right? Why would they pair me with a man? It didn't make sense. I shook the thought away, took a quick shower, and slipped into my favorite pajama shorts — silky, soft, sky-blue — and a loose, white top that fell off one shoulder. Comfortable. Safe.
With the cool hum of the air conditioner filling the room, I curled up on the living room couch with my laptop. Fifty Shades of Grey played softly on the screen. Don't judge me. I had a thing for those movies. I loved heat.
The moaning from the scene made me smirk. I lowered the volume but didn't turn it off. If my roommate came in, we'd laugh it off — unless it was some old, uptight woman. Then I'd probably get an earful.
I was so lost in the scene that I didn't hear the door open.
"Interesting…"
A deep, masculine voice behind me made me jump so hard I nearly tossed the laptop. My heart leapt into my throat as I twisted around—and there he was.
Kelvin.
Leaning casually against the back of the couch, a smirk curling his lips.
"S-sir! I didn't hear you come in. How did you get the keys?" I stammered, scrambling to sit up straight.
He swung a set of keys lazily in front of my face. "I own this place, remember?"
Oh.
Right.
Another moan burst from the laptop, and my soul left my body. I scrambled forward to snap the screen shut, heat rising in my face.
Kelvin chuckled softly. "That's why you didn't use the TV?"
"No," I muttered, cheeks burning.
"I see." He stepped around the couch, suitcase in hand. "Naughty… something I would enjoy."
My eyes flew wide. "Sir?"
But he just smirked, dropping his suitcase by the guest room door like he belonged there.
That's when it hit me.
He's my partner?
My heart raced, pounding so hard it was a wonder he couldn't hear it.
"I'll be staying here," he said casually, then threw me a look over his shoulder. "So you might want to warn those guns on your chest… because I won't be idle if something's aiming to shoot me."
My jaw dropped. Did he just—
I grabbed my laptop like it was a shield and bolted to the smaller bedroom, my entire face on fire.
Oh no.
I was so screwed.
POV: Kelvin
The click of the lock was quiet as I stepped in, suitcase in tow. And there she was.
Chioma.
Reclined on the couch like she owned the place, one leg tucked under her, the other stretched out. Her silky pajama shorts clung to her thighs, the curve of her hips distracting in ways I had no business noticing. The neckline of her top dipped just enough to tease, the soft swell of her chest rising and falling as she focused on her laptop.
I tilted my head, curious.
Fifty Shades of Grey.
Well, well.
"Interesting," I murmured aloud.
She jumped like a startled kitten, and the look on her face was priceless.
I wasn't expecting this… temptation.
And yet, now that I was here, now that I'd seen her like this—soft, unguarded, sinfully tempting—I wasn't sure I'd survive it.
But hell… it was going to be fun finding out.