Must Date The Chef

|| 38.

Paul

Ifunaya is as rigid as a pole on our drive home and I don't miss the number of times her eyes dart between the men in front. My hand reaches out to cover hers, a part of me prepares for her rejection but she surprises me by intertwining our fingers and resting her head on my shoulder without a word.

Lagbaja's voice filters from the radio, an old classic of his breaking the car's quietude.

Wherever I go, wherever you are,
Baby, baby you are never far away.
Ifunaya baby you are never far away.
You are always on my mind . . .

I sing the last part in an off-key tune as he nears the chorus, my voice raises with each hit to my arm and I beam. Her punches feel like the prelude to a massage, I pretend it hurts by groaning and it encourages her to hit me harder. She doesn't laugh like I expect her to when my awful singing comes to an end but I notice the corners of her lips lift in a smile she tries and fails to fight. My thumb caresses her cheek when she relaxes in the seat, I weave my fingers into her hair to peck the top of her head when she sighs.

Bodyguards are not new to me, one of the perks of being the child of a public figure, a politician. I hate the lifestyle but I can't seem to get away from them, even in Enugu. They were everywhere and only a few of them cared to be discreet. Coming to Calabar, knowing no one, being able to interact as a normal citizen, date and be me without my father's title hovering above my head was fun. A much-needed breather until that madman, Aaron happened and now, he is dead.

Directions tumble out of my lips as we near the streets of my house, the guard on the passenger clears his throat when I refer to his second as chairman. I forgot their names the moment they spoke. How could I not? I could barely concentrate with Ifunaya being so upset, treating me like I was the bad guy when we are both victims of my family's politics. I didn't ask for this.

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I let out a sigh, Mr Adams was right, the bodyguards are for her safety, our safety. Loving me equals having guards around and by God, I hope she can handle the pressure. I need her in my life. We can, we will figure it out.

Overwhelmed by the events of today, my eyes close and the accusation in her voice returns to taunt me. My eyelids flutter open, I cast a glance at her sleeping figure and scoff. She thought I was lying. Fucking hell, no, no more of that shit. She got kidnapped because of me so, I bloody well know truth is the new motto for our relationship. Yet, she easily labels me a liar. God. If I will tell a lie, it certainly isn't to her. My fingers dig into my scalp, I have a lot of work to do, I don't want my woman distrusting me.

The gate of my house comes into view, I stare at it with a longing unfamiliar to me, I never stay long enough in a place to grow attached to it. But in a strange way, I missed seeing this grey building. I missed having my space, being able to flex in my kitchen.

Teslim, the gateman, waves furiously at me as we drive into the compound, I return the gesture with a small smile. He must have missed the meals I always passed his way. When the car slows to a stop, I shake Ifunaya awake and smile as she squints at me until her confusion clears. She has to be the most beautiful woman I have seen, a true beauty in every sense of the word.

"My lady," I say with a mock bow when I open her side of the car. "We have arrived."

In one fell swoop, I lift her off the ground bridal style and kick the door close. My heart swells at the sound of her giggles, it's as refreshing as having a recipe come out perfect on a first trial. I love it. I love her.

"Babe, the doctor said bed rest. I can walk."

"Should I put you down?" I stop walking to ask. My hold on her body relaxes, her eyes bulge and she slaps the back of my head.