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Chapter 8 - Chapter Eight

After the match, Adaeze followed the other journalists towards the players' tunnel. The sharp scent of disinfectant mixed with sweat, warm steam, and the faint trace of cologne.

Most players gave quick answers, eager to leave. But Izunna stood at his locker, a towel draped around his neck, head bowed slightly as he wiped his face. He looked calmer now, almost thoughtful.

When he finally looked up, his gaze landed on her as if he had been expecting her. 'You again.'

There was no irritation in his voice. If anything, it sounded like a soft welcome.

Adaeze lifted her chin, though her pulse fluttered. 'I'm here for post-match comments.'

He smiled, slow and easy. 'Careful. People might say you are following me.'

'I'm just doing my job.'

He rested one arm against the locker door, his posture relaxed. 'And doing it very well, it seems. Everyone is still talking about your question the other day.'

Warmth crept up her neck. 'That was not the intention.'

'Still,' he said, lowering his voice as if sharing something just for her, 'you asked what others were too afraid to ask. I like that.'

She blinked, caught off guard. 'You do?'

'Most reporters flatter. You…' he paused, his eyes taking a gentle tour of her face, '… you challenge.'

Adaeze lowered her gaze to her notebook, fighting a smile. 'I ask for truth. That is all.'

He gave a quiet chuckle. 'Truth can be dangerous.'

Something in his tone made her heart shift, just slightly.

Not wanting the moment to stretch too far, she stepped back. 'Thank you for your time, Mr Izunna obieze.'

He nodded. 'See you at the next match, Miss Adaeze.'

As she turned to leave, his voice reached her, soft, warm and unmistakably personal.

'Nice shoes, by the way.'

Adaeze paused mid-step, her lips lifting before she could stop them.

He had noticed her in a way that went beyond a casual compliment about shoes. He had noticed the gentle sway of her walk, the spark of ambition in her eyes, the subtle scent of her perfume that lingered when she moved past him. His attention was not on the shoes at all; it was on the woman wearing them.

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