CHAPTER TEN
The esteemed Hilton club was a club that had exclusive membership, and so, catered exclusively to the needs of the rich and mighty. It was nestled within the very heart of the VGC Estate, and so the less affluent residents of the Lagos Mainland knew better than to dare step onto the posh hallowed grounds of the club.
It had a glittering swimming pool that the members could enjoy, and parasols with tables and chairs under them; there were four tennis courts where even the governor himself played tennis on weekends; there were flowerbeds that were tended to by Asian gardeners_ they were a blaze of colors; the car park was superb, and expensive cars lined it. The club itself, soaring three stories high, was a modern architectural masterpiece that was equipped with well-stocked bars, a restaurant, and a relaxation lounge that was off-limits to non-members of the club. It had glass doors and French windows all around it, giving it a panoramic view in all directions.
When Obi drove into the grounds of the club, he looked round as he climbed out of his car, his eyes spotting his wife’s white Mercedes parked between a low-slung Bentley and a glittering black Porsche. Nodding with satisfaction to himself, he turned and walked briskly towards the doors of the club, and then he stepped into the lobby, walking past some distinguished-looking couples. He walked into the restaurant, and then he saw her.
There she was, seated at a corner table, sipping a cup of tea, her eyes glued to the manuscript she was clutching in her left hand. He had to pause and admire her for a moment, and he had to admit to himself that she was really beautiful. She wore a sky-blue gown that was fashionably tailored without looking provocative; her dark hair had been left free to flow down her shoulders, strands of hair brushing against her breasts; her makeup was very mild, and circled around her throat like a blue ribbon, was a necklace that matched the color of her dress perfectly. Her face had a morning freshness quality that totally captivated him. Even now, after several months of marriage to her, he still hadn’t really gotten used to her exceptional beauty, and he had to lower his face to avoid looking at her as he approached her table.
She looked up, and her luminous eyes became fixed on him with a blank, nevertheless cold expression. ‘Why, I am not surprised to see you here,’ she said, and she leaned back in her chair to look him squarely in his face. She sighed and then waved him into the chair opposite her almost as if she was resigned to having to suffer the displeasure of his company. ‘And please let’s be quick about this. What do you want from me?’
Obi’s lips curved into a contemptuous smile as the beautiful woman crossed one leg over the other, revealing one long shapely leg to his view. ‘Your gown is straight up, my dear,’ he told her. ‘Don’t tell me you’re feeling so horny here that you now want to perform a striptease. It won’t be appreciated by the conservative patrons.’
Adamma flushed with embarrassment and quickly uncrossed her legs and discreetly shifting them away from his prying eyes. The bloody fool! Did he always have to be so confrontational, seeking to incite her annoyance and fury every time they were within a mile radius of each other? She wondered how they’d been able to sleep together in the same room and the same bed for over a year without killing each other, though she wryly admitted to herself that they did not always sleep in the same bed_ whenever he incited her to anger, she’d simply lock the door to their room and make him sleep on the couch in the private living room of their suite or to go to the other numerous rooms in the house and make himself comfortable. As she saw the gleam of mischief in his eyes, she knew he’d come prepared to unload whatever torture he had in his arsenal on her. And she was ready for him; she’d steeled herself for their encounter because she knew he would definitely seek her out. How right she was about that.
‘What do you want from me?’ she asked, looking at him blankly and smiling in amusement when he looked down once again. She was no fool; she knew the electric effect her eyes had on him, so she was ready to use it to her advantage.
Before replying, Obi took up her cup of tea, took a sip from the bitter black tea she was drinking, and he grimaced with distaste; darn, he’d forgotten that she was addicted to unflavored black tea which he had a strong aversion for. He said, ‘What do I want? It’s very simple, actually. You are my wife, and your position in the eyes of the society and the eyes of God is by my side. I want you to come back home.’
Adamma’s eyes widened in wonder at the sheer boldness of this man who’d had no regard for her whatsoever. ‘You are a bloody fool, my dear,’ she said, smiling pleasantly at the handsome waiter who’d materialized at her side to fill her glass with chilled white wine. When he left, she continued. ‘After all you’ve made me go through, you still expect me to come back to you? Sometimes I really wonder if you’re sane. Certainly, I’m sure you’re aware I’m a free woman, with the freedom and liberty to do what I want and make my own choices. My marriage to you was a sham right from the beginning and I am glad I got myself extricated from it. Marriage is purgatory, but my marriage to you was hell on earth.’
‘Are you trying to imply that you hate men?’
‘On the contrary, I implied no such thing, you fool, but I am glad you voiced your thoughts about the subject. And for the record, men are worthless, evil; diabolical. Many women have had their hearts broken by men, and one of such women is my friend Amanda. And no; if there’s one thing I’ll never do again, it’s to admit or acknowledge the fact that I’m your wife. I am free from you, darling, and very soon, I’m going to file a divorce suite on you on the grounds of unreasonable conduct which I cannot be expected to live with; emotional cruelty, lack of care and empathy, infidelity. . .’ and she was reeling them off on her fingers, smiling at him as she did so.
Summoning his courage, he gazed deeply into the eyes of the audacious woman he’d married; this was the woman who’d occupied his fantasies for so many years and had taunted him and derided him for so long. It was as if she was deliberately putting him through the flames of her private hell. Perhaps that was why he was so bitter about her, but her beauty had trapped him firmly, and he desired her more than he’d ever desired another woman in his whole life. What was it all about? What did it mean? And as he looked at her face, seeing the leashed anger and coldness in those eyes that had bound him to her from the very first time he’d seen her, he knew with an unshakable conviction that she’d toughened herself up; she’d adequately prepared herself to repel him and freeze him out. It was painted all over her face.
He intended to browbeat her to come back home into his house and into his arms, and if she dared to labor under the misapprehension that she was free from his clutches, then he would have to force her to return to him. If he didn’t have her, then there was no other person in this world that could be allowed to have her.
‘My dear girl, you’re coming home,’ he told her, his voice flat, his expression, emotionless. ‘If not today, then it would be tomorrow, but the fact remains that you are coming home.’
Smiling saucily for the first time, Adamma asked, ‘And who is going to force me to return back to that horrible mansion? You would force me to return? Or would you leave the job for your mother?’
‘No.’
‘Come on, dear, you can do better than that.’ She rolled her eyes in weariness, as if he bored the pants off her. ‘Why are you here for me? Why did you decide to leave that woman’s bed and come here to ask me to return with you to your house?’
‘I need you. The house seems to be different without you in it, and believe me when I tell you that I miss your company_ though you often try to be disagreeable at every turn. You were meant to be there.’ He remembered her earlier accusation and frowned at her. ‘And let me put this straight to you: I never slept with Della.’
Choosing to ignore his declaration of innocence, she demanded, ‘So you came here because you needed someone to liven up your days and make them more memorable to you?’
‘I do not need a companion; I need a wife. And you’re my lawfully wedded wife; your place is at my side.’
‘We’ve had this conversation, darling,’ she said pleasantly, waving his words away as if they were flies. ‘I never wanted to be your wife, and I don’t intend to return so I can continue to endure your insults. I’m more my own woman than that.’
Obi relaxed into the chair, and then he laughed, deciding it was time to lay his cards on the table. ‘You were a whore, my dear,’ he reminded her. ‘Your past was seedy and reeked of dirtiness and decadence. If you refuse to come back to me, then I’ll spread your past out for the public to see. What about your family? Don’t you want to know who you really are? You see, I know everything there is to know about your family; my mother told me about it.’
He’d intended for his revelation to rattle her and hurt her, and from the way she jerked her head up as if she’d been slapped, it was obvious that it did. However, her next reaction was unanticipated; her face hardened into an icy mask that made her look vicious, like some avenging angel; her hands trembled with cold fury while her breasts rose and fell under the thin stuff of her dress as if she was suffocating.
Obi frowned in amazement, and it dawned on him with vivid clarity, that the Adamma he knew had changed. There was something in her face that seemed to suggest it irresistibly.
No . . . not her face. Her eyes . . . the indifference and amusement in their luminous depths had vanished and had congealed into a coldness that seemed to waft from them in icy, waves that seemed to reach out and touch his face. It really astounded him, making him to wonder if this could really be the woman he knew. There was a new awareness in her, as if she’d made a stunning new discovery about her capabilities.
‘You can’t do anything to me,’ she said, her voice cold and hard, her face a mirror of sheer contempt. ‘Ask yourself a question: why hasn’t anyone chosen to expose my life to the media even after all these years? Some things are better left unsaid, and I’ve also gotten over the urge to trace my family. Be warned, my darling. Don’t stir up disaster for yourself. I have warned you.’
Obi had looked up, and was staring past her towards the doors, his eyes fixed on a lady who was making her way towards them with a well-practiced sway of curvy hips. The woman was a vision of feminine allure, and, Adamma, following the direction of his gaze, saw the woman. Her brief stare became a basilisk glare at the pink-clad woman who was smiling at them_ at Obi.
Della . . .
Stopping before their table, Della leaned forward and planted a brief kiss on his forehead, engulfing them in the cloying perfume that wafted from her couture. Sparing Adamma a scathing glare from her armory, she pulled up a chair and gracefully lowered herself into it.
Adamma felt a wave of unassailable dislike flow from her towards this woman as she glared right back at the intruder with pure loathing. She knew what definition to ascribe to this home destroyer who had come between she and her husband and whose actions had caused the already fragile threads of her marriage to disintegrate. But to be fair, she couldn’t entirely blame the woman for her actions: after all, there were hundreds of women like her who prowled around, hunting for men gullible enough to fall for their charms . . .
Throughout their conversation, she sat there, keeping her mouth stubbornly clamped shut even though Obi and even Della tried to include her in their discussion. She sat there mutely, wondering why she’d lost her heart to Obi; why she had fallen in love with a man who was incapable of returning her love, she would never understand, she thought. Obi was a fool personified, and he didn’t deserve her affections. He had inflicted untold hardships on her, wrecking her heart through his verbal abuse, his wanton disregard for her feelings, browbeating her into submission through his skilful use of blackmail . . . and then, he was busy lusting after women; other women. But he’d told her that he hadn’t slept with Della, hadn’t he? Was it true? Or was it a ploy on his part to make her come running back to his arms so they could enjoy nights of unbridled passion?
‘Oh honey, it was so hilarious!’ Della trilled, the sound yanking Adamma’s wandering mind back to their table.
Adamma wondered what the horrendous woman thought was so hilarious about and wanted to chime in with a sarcastic retort. But she changed her mind; the woman wasn’t worth the aggravation.
Obi fixed his eyes on Adamma, mischief twinkling in their depths, and he gave her a long probing look. He said, ‘Della and I were discussing the possibility of a man and his mistress moving in together after the breakup of the man’s marriage. And I wondered what you think about such a notion,’ he added.
Adamma frowned; she said nothing, ignoring provocation she knew to be deliberate. And then Della fixed her with a cold stare and said, ‘I know you‘re such a renowned star, with great beauty at your disposal, and men must be falling all over themselves to go out with you. Sometimes I envy the freedom you have around men; you don’t have to go to them_ they come to you. Do you allow them to get a go at you?’
‘I do not bare my private life to whores and gossip-mongers,’ she snapped, making no attempt at sticking to social etiquette.
Della threw her head back and laughed, the sound a cultivated trill that made some people at the other tables to turn around and stare at her. ‘Gossip-mongers and whores . . . oh, you’re such a hypocrite, hiding behind your veil of stardom and yet, your life is as dark as sin. And between you and me, you are the whore; the lousy bitch; you are the one who strip yourself half-naked on the screens. Oh, you are so alluring, but you’re not normal. If you were, then you would have held your marriage together. You are worth less than nothing!’
She turned to Obi, her made-up eyes flashing with satisfaction. ‘Let’s get out of here, darling,’ she said, rising to her feet and extending one long hand which ended in long acrylic nails towards him. But he didn’t budge, and his eyes emitted disapproval at her. ‘The sight of this bitch really sickens me with disgust.’
Adamma froze in her seat, and her eyes swiveled around towards Obi; she could see that he was appalled at this woman’s horrible behavior. At least, for the very first time, they were on the same side. Fury welled up in her chest, and the pent-up emotions she’d kept bottled up for so long threatened to overwhelm her, spreading from the pit of her stomach to her chest, rushing onward to her brain as a surge of adrenalin coursed through her until a cold fury seemed to invade even her fingertips. How dare this woman insult her with such audacity? What impudence!
Della raised one hand to brush off a lock of hair from her face, and then Adamma rose to her feet, clenched her right fingers into a ball and rammed it into the woman’s jaw, sending the woman reeling backwards into her chair, a scream of pain erupting from her lips. She crashed into her chair, and then she continued falling, her body crashing into a nearby table, her hand clearing away the contents of the table as she struggled to retain her balance, and then she was sprawling to the floor, and a trickle of blood ran down her left cheek.
All eyes in the restaurant turned towards the spectacle, and Adamma turned round to go, but, in a flash, Della was up and across the room towards her; she hit the singer at the back of her neck with a tray, and Adamma fell forward, though she regained her equilibrium instantly_ years of yoga and long hours of flexibility training and poll dancing came to her aid. She halted, and she turned towards her adversary, her eyes deadly, her fists balled with fury. The two women circled each other, and Adamma had the feeling that they were fighting for Obi’s affections; it was a battle between the wife and the paramour; the owner of the house and the meddlesome interloper.
Della looked battle-ready. ‘You think you can scare me?’ she shouted. ‘You think you can just embarrass me and go scot-free? I’ll sit on your head and make you eat sand.’
Obi was horrified; however, he was not fearful for his wife; he knew that underneath all that sensuality and sexy body was a monstrously strong woman, a gutter fighter who’d toughened herself up on the hard streets of Lagos. ‘Della, do not attack her,’ he said, looking from one furious face to the other; even the diners were still stunned by what they were witnessing, and he wanted to save his former lover a lot of pain.
There was even a few of them that were getting their phones out and turning the cameras on, hoping to catch every single moment of the spectacle so they could spread it through the hallowed halls of the information superhighway.
But the woman was already rushing towards Adamma, ready to do battle. Then Adamma was moving on her feet like a ballerina, as if this was a perfectly choreographed fight scene in a movie. She slipped past the woman’s arms, her feet kicking out towards Della’s midriff, and then Della was on the floor, shrieking in pain.
‘What have you just done?’ Obi gasped in horror, leaping up from his chair to rush over to aid Della who was struggling to her feet, one hand clutched at her jaw, a look of murderous rage on her face, her eyes red with pain and fury.
Adamma was furious. ‘How dare you ask me that stupid question?’ she demanded, though her voice sounded very controlled and she appeared calm; she had a public reputation to protect. It was only her deadly eyes which gave any indication of her anger. ‘She attacked me. She hit me with a metal tray and I was only trying to leave. I could sue her for that!’
Obi was torn between two impossible dilemmas; he wanted to kick his wife for being so hard on the hapless woman, though he also wanted to kiss her senseless: she was managing the situation with an intelligence and foresight that would make her look like the victim of a vicious attack from a deranged female. Della was the villain, but he went to her and held her, and then he gently pulled her back so he could assess the damage to her face. But he was accidentally standing on the hem of her gown, and, as he drew her back to look at her face, the thin straps that held the gown in place snapped and it fell away from her body, revealing the strapless push-up bra she wore and the pink panties she wore. With a scream, she shoved him away from her and reached down, pulling the torn gown up to cover herself.
‘You bastard!’ she shouted at him, and then her hand flew up to his face in a slap that was delivered with all the strength her outraged body could muster. ‘You did that on purpose! I am going to kill you for this! I swear it! God! You’ll pay for this!’ Whirling round, she turned and fled from the restaurant as the security men began to arrive.
The men formed a wall around Adamma as Obi instructed them to lead her into the manager’s office while he retrieved her imitation leopard purse and her manuscript and followed them. He then instructed the men to leave so they could have some privacy. She sank into a chair in the plush office and then rubbed at the back of her neck with her fingers.
‘I’m going to have a blinding headache soon,’ she said, and then she confessed, ‘it sure felt really good taking that bitch down. She deserved to be taught a lesson or two for her impudence.’
Obi leaned against the opposite chair and then watched her. ‘I am really sorry about it, my dear whore,’ he said, and then he was sorry he’d that last line. But she seemed to be in high spirits, and she laughed softly, the low sound making desire hammer at him. A lump rose in his throat. ‘I’d like to do nothing more than to grab you and kiss you senseless,’ he confessed as he felt the spark of electricity in the air between them.
She smiled at him, her lips curling with invitation. She said flippantly, ‘You can try, my dear, and I won’t stop you. At least you earned your pay today.’
She was daring him, challenging him with her words. And since he was never one to back down from a challenge, he moved forward in two giant strides and took her in his arms. One part of her; the rebellious part, wanted to pummel him and shove him away from her, but the other part of her won, and she found herself leaning in towards him even though this was an office_ heaven knew that the scandal she’d have to deal with if they were ever discovered would be more than enough to shatter her peace of mind. But it had been spontaneous, and he was her husband. Even though she truly felt like shooting him down with a gun, she couldn’t help it that their bodies fitted in so perfectly with each other.
His fingers were becoming entwined with her hair, and he was sucking on her lower lip and murmuring her name, the sound like a gentle caress to her brain which couldn’t even think straight. She felt the hardness of his erection pressing into her, and she was so caught up on a crest of lust_ desire, after all, she’d discovered that she loved him_ that she did not even notice as his fingers touched the front zipper on her blouse, and he was pulling it down. Then, the cold, hard doze of waking reality snapped into her, and she realized that she was acting foolishly, like a woman who’d never had a man before.
She remembered that he’d called her a whore just a few minutes ago, and what it meant was that he still hadn’t yet seen her for the true woman that she was. To him, she was his property. And that was not what she wanted. No man had ever dared to treat her like this.
She broke away from him, her fingers gently pushing him back as she stared coldly at him. ‘No,’ she said firmly, shaking her head. ‘This will not do at all. We are in a man’s office.’
Obi smiled at her, and his eyes were filled with passion. ‘You’re right. Let us go home and continue from where we’d stopped.’
‘Yes.’ She zipped up her blouse and rose to her feet, picking up her purse and the manuscript. ‘I’m going home, dear.’
‘You’re coming with me.’
‘No I’m not; I’ve got my own house and that is where I’m going to. Do not think you can browbeat me into doing your bidding. I told you I was not coming home, and I meant it. That house you call a home is a curse, and I’m really glad I walked away from it.’
Obi frowned in confusion. ‘But you were just responding in my arms and moaning your approval at my kisses.’
‘Yes, I was, and so what? You had to be taught a lesson, and there was no better way to teach you a lesson on humility than to tease you and then leave you hanging. See you later, darling.’ And she walked to the door, threw it open, and then she walked out into the corridor without looking back. She had made her decision, and she would never return to him again.