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Thank you for the update...

And they lived ever after...

What a sensitive spirit filled storyline. More anointing and blessings ma.


Kudos Kudos Kudos

This kind love dey make me wonder, this kind love go last forever, I love you not another, this kind love o, na serious love nwatintin...


I love how your storyline sis.

Infact......

God bless you in Jesus mighty name...

Yaaaaaayy...
First to comment oo.
Thanks sis,more grace ..


Sister Martha hmmm
I comment my reserve

Rosemary33:
wow!!! What is going on I am overwhelmed, really. Thanks you you and everyone that is reading this story.

I wish to know you in person sis...
Your writing skills and use of words were out of this world �...
Keep up the good works Darling �

Rosemary33:
Twenty-six
Martha

“I didn’t ask you to come in.”

“You didn’t say I shouldn’t.”

She’s just nineteen…

Bigger and taller than you.

Still, she’s a child. My soon to be husband’s only daughter, who would be my step-daughter. My age and place in her father’s life gave me an edge over her.

Leaving her still holding the door, probably contemplating asking me out, I strolled deeper into the room that had a feminine mosaic of chaos born of happiness. The mood here was a sharp contrast to what I saw on the girl’s face when she opened the door.

“There is a ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the door,”

“Oh! I didn't know that included me.” Fact was, I knew she placed it there because she heard I would be coming around. Michael said he told them. “I thought it’s for your dad.”

“Why will I not want dad to come in?” Jamming the door, she came to stand in front of me, her hands crossed. “Daddy can come in here any time.”

I got your message, girl. “So, it’s for me then?” I left her, strolling through the marble-floored space to her dressing table where a framed picture of a woman, her skin as rich and deep as any stately home mahogany. There was sublime plumpness in her chubby cheeks, a sense of relaxation in her smile, and kindness in her eyes. I reached out to pick the picture but the girl stopped me.

“Don’t touch that!”

Pulling my hand back, I turned to give her a long stare, threw the picture a glance, walked back to stand close to her.
“The resemblance is so striking,” I said. “She is so beautiful.” No wonder Michael couldn’t find someone worthy to fill the gap she left.

Abandoning me, Bimbo lay on the bed, her face away from me. Silently telling me, ‘Use the door when you are done standing there like a jobless woman.’

“Can I sit?” When I got no response, I pulled the only chair in the room close to the bed and sat down. “Your father loves you so much.” She kept ignoring me. “And it bothers him that you don't love him as much as he does you.”

My last statement made her whip her head up, glaring at me. “I love dad so much and he knows it. You are the one making him think that I don't love him.”

She spoke back to me? We are getting somewhere.

“Bimbo, if you love someone, you would care about his happiness.”

“You know nothing about us! We were happy before you came and ruin everything.” Anger was exuding out of her, I could touch her desperation to convince me of her love for her father. “Daddy was happy with mom!”

But mom died. I didn’t know how to remind her of that so I don’t sound insensitive.

“I know your mother.” That got her attention. Roughly wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand, she sat up, folding her legs. “She’s the most beautiful and nice woman I’ve ever seen.” Lady Ugo, the mother to all the women in our fellowship. A soft-spoken, easy-going, cheerful woman. I had never spoken with her one on one, but I’ve sat under her ministrations and must say she was a gem.

“She completes dad.” It’s understandable if Bimbo chose to speak of her mother as though she was still alive. Grief could make one do that—refuse to accept that the one you loved was gone. “Their love for each other is something I look forward to having when I finally get married.”

“You miss her.” God I need you to keep this discussion channel open.

“You don’t know how it feels to lose someone so dear. Mom was everything to me, to us.” She sniffled. “Then she died…she’s not supposed to die like that!”

God: Let her speak.
"We did everything.” She aimed her grief-ridden eyes at me. “Dad…dad prayed…. He suffered with her.” Sniffle. “She loved God and he allowed him to die!”

Lord, Bimbo wasn’t just angry at me, she was hurting! The pain had eaten deep inside her and she’d come to love the closure, the comfort of the darkness. Michael thought that all the gifts in the world, all the extra care could get her out of this pit. How did he not see this?

Without seeking her permission, I left the chair and sat on the bed, shifting deeper until I went near her. Gripping her shoulders, I pulled her into my arms.

She didn’t pull away!

Thank you, Jesus!

“It’s hard to forget her…It’s hard.” Her body rocked violently with her sobs, anguish sipping out of her like steam from a boiling pot. “Daddy wasn’t supposed to get over her this soon. He wasn’t…” She broke off, pushing herself away from me. “He no longer loves her.”

“Your father loved your mother till her death. And even after she died, he had continued to cherish her memories.” Only the blind didn't notice how much the woman's death affected Michael. Years after her departure, he would infuse stories of the times they shared in his messages, most of the time, he would pause to get hold of himself before continuing with his preaching.

“Yet he is ready to replace her.”

“He didn’t plan it.” From the look she gave me, it was obvious she didn’t understand me. “None of us did,” I added, wishing the holy spirit would help me explain better.

“You are pregnant for him?” I wasn’t certain if I should be laughing at her statement. “Dad…He…”

“Your father is a nobleman, he wouldn’t touch me unless I have his ring on my finger and his name attached to mine, even if he has a gun pointed to his head.” One of the things that made him even desirable. The level of his control, his ability to stand by his words and convictions. I will wait for us to be properly joined as husband and wife, you are worth it. It was his way of saying, I love God and I love you.

“Then what do you mean none of you planned it? He found you—brought you home.” Lifting the shirt off her ‘bob the builder’ pyjamas, she wiped her face with it. “Not as if both of you were forced on each other.”

Her initial anguish has ebbed. If there was anger remaining inside her, it could be…a trickle. “It’s complicated, Bimbo,” I said, shaking my head.

“Then you are trying to lie to me.” Bimbo was smart. No, she wasn’t right about me trying to lie to her, but like her father, she knew how to draw responses from someone and she would push until she got what she wanted. “I see the way dad looks at you. He wouldn’t speak ten sentences without bringing up your name—that’s what he used to do when mom was alive. Mentioning her name in every conversation.”

“You will not believe our story.”

“Try me.” Grabbing a pillow, she placed it across her legs and leaned on it, fixing her gaze on me with anticipation.

I had my inner voice lifted in praise to God for what he had started doing in Bimbo’s life, even as I began to narrate our story to her. It amazed me that she could laugh at our awkwardness, marvel at our spontaneous actions, ask how her daddy proposed.

“It didn’t bother you that he’s way older and that he had children?” She asked.

“Not at all.”

“Really?”

“Well… I was worried about you. You made it obvious the first time we met that you don’t like me.”

“Don’t blame me.”

“I’m not.”

We allowed a few minutes’ silence, then she did something I had never dreamt she would do; Throwing her hands around my neck in a tight hug, the whole of her weight laid on me, she laid her head on my shoulder. “Thank you for coming here.”

Was she thanking me for coming into their lives or her room? It didn’t matter. Bimbo was coming around, that’s what mattered. Returning her hug, I stroked her hair. “Thank you for understanding.”

“Tell dad that I’m so sorry for being selfish.” She said as she leaned off me and I stood up, ready to leave.

“Won’t it be better if you find him and tell him yourself?”

***
Michael

“Bimbo?” Looking past her, my eyes darted left and right the corridor, then settled back on her face. “Princess…”

“Dad, can I come in?” There was a hint of uncertainty in her voice. What was she thinking? That I wouldn’t let her in? Or that I was angry with her.

“Sure,” I stepped aside to let her in. A quick glance out to be sure Martha wasn’t hanging around watching, then I shut the door. “So, you decided not to come down for dinner.” I picked the towel I brought out earlier for my bath up from the bed, walked into the bathroom to hang it back.

“Ola brought me some food,” she said, flipping through The Wonders of God magazine on top of my reading table.

“It’s not an explanation to why you didn’t show up during dinner.” Walking back into the room, I sat on the sofa. “Sit,” I ordered but she didn’t move. “Bimbo?”

Taking a few steps forward, she collapsed at my feet and started crying. “I’m sorry dad. I’m so sorry.”

“My princess.” Gripping her arms, I helped her up. “What is it? What are you sorry for?”

“I’ve been so selfish, I should have understood you…just that I'm missing mum and I felt… I felt you have thrown away all the good times.”

“My baby.” Palming her face, I kissed her chubby cheeks, one she inherited from her mother. "We all miss her a lot."

"But it's easy for you to move on. You found a replacement too soon."

"You think it was easy for me? That I didn't spend nights after nights wishing there was something I could have done to keep her alive?" My family was hurting, what would I have done? If I had shown weakness, who would have strengthened the others?

It was easy for Ola to understand because he had wanted to be a man as well. But Bimbo, she never knew my grief, my pain, my decision to remain true and faithful to Ugo even after her death.

But the Lord got a woman ready for me. I didn't know I needed one.

"Auntie Martha spoke to me and…" Auntie Martha? Did she just call her Auntie? Oh, Lord, what do I appreciate you with? "I didn't realize… Oh, dad." She placed her head on my chest, wrapping her hands around me. "I don't want to make you feel sad."

"I'm not sad, princess."

"Auntie Martha said you are bothered. You think I don't love you as you love me."

There were times I felt overwhelmed by the task of parenting. No matter how much I tried, I was never measuring up. Ola was my consolation, but Bimbo—.

"I love you dad and I want you to be happy."

"You are my happiness," I said, patting her on the back.

"What of Auntie Martha?"

"She too… I love her… you may not understand."

"Don't worry." She eased herself from my arms. "I understand everything and I am happy for you dad."

God, is this you? "Really?"

"Really." Flashing me a toothy smile, she started walking towards the door. Then she stopped and looked back. "Dad?"

"Hmm?"

"Will you...will you and Auntie Martha be making babies?" Was this going to be an issue now? "I don't mind little siblings. It will be nice to have them run around the house."

Without waiting for my response, she opened the door and walked out, leaving me staring mouth gaped at the space. Jesus, God! I gave in to the laughter that was welling inside me. Whistling one of my favourite songs, I danced my way into the bathroom.

Soaking in the heated water, feeling it hug my skin so gently, breathing in the aroma of the bubble bath and the presence of God, my lips started moving to the nudge of the holy spirit and before I knew it, I was praying in tongues.

My bathroom was one out of my many secret places, my mini sanctuary, a place to breathe deeply and let the lord take over me. Tonight I had nothing to ask of the Lord, my heart was filled with worship, my mouth with praise and praising him in an unknown tongue made this moment more intimate.

The sound of someone knocking on my door forced my eyes open, rushing my bath, I wrapped my towel around my waist, with water trickling down from my hair to my face, down to my shoulders, I walked back into the room.

The knock came again.

Bimbo. What did she forget to tell me? “Come on in, Princess.” The door cracked and…

“Oh, Jesus…” Turning around, I found Martha almost out of the door, her face lowered and turned away from me. I guessed she had her eyes shut. “I…Uhm…I’m sorry I didn’t…Oh, God.” Her reaction was both surprising and amusing. Hadn’t she seen a half-naked man before? “I have to go now…I’ll…Uhm…be in my room.”

“Wait,” I called. “I want to speak to you about something if you don't mind.”

Throwing me a glance, she licked her lips and nodded. “I’ll be outside then.”

“Okay, let me put on something decent…”

She was gone before I could finish.

Nne'm God bless you for this updates...

Thanks for the update sis....

More grease to your elbow...

But Bimbo's sha

Aunty Rose ��� Mary Biko come and update na....
Thanks in advance

Rosemary33:
Mehn, see as una dey show me love, thank you to everyone who is reading this story. I hope it excite and equally gives value.

You worth am my sister...
Thanks for bringing us into the knowledge of hoe God works.
Reading your story gives me courage say even if i dey chop, baba God go still dey follow me talk and nobody is beyond redeemeable...
Kudos ma'am




By the way, update pls

Aunty Rosé.. you are a darling..
Thanks for the update

Thank you sissy

A big thank you for the update ma.

More wisdom, knowledge and understanding

Rosemary33:
Seventeen

Martha

You must be thinking I’m crazy.

Yes…I just heard that come out of my mouth. I am crazy. And stupid. And an insensitive fool. How did I get here? One moment I had the world at the palm of my hand because I had everything going on for me—well, most of it. The next moment, I was feeling like burying my head in the sand like an ostrich.

Lucky had become my undoing and my woe.

I should have known this would happen, should have recognized the shadow of deceit around the mask. I thought Luck knows the Lord? Could swear with everything I held dear that his intention was noble this time—only that I didn’t want him.

Everything had happened so fast. The kiss that left me gritting my teeth, curbing nausea that overtook me—churning my stomach. Michael walking into that shameful scene. The slap. The…Lucky had called her a LovePeddler!

That slowpoke. That disgrace of a man!

How was it that I’d never seen this side of him? The shameless imp had hidden his Darkside so well while presenting himself as a child of God!

Ha! Martha. How did this skip your observation? If there was one thing I knew how to do, it’s seeing through people. But I seem to have traded my sense for a bowl of pap the day Lucky walked back into that office and in my life.

God: You had the privilege to hear my voice.

Jesus! It was all my doing—I saw the amber, it should have warned me off but rather, I was drawn to it. Like a moth to fire, I danced around it.

What was I thinking?

Trying to be nice, to prove…what exactly?

Every muscle, every nerve in me strutted with anguish as I remembered the look on Michael’s face. The hard stare he gave me when I asked if he would stay a little longer. I saw my shame in the mirror of his eyes. Shame and something else… Disappointment? Sadness? I wasn’t sure because he had remained as calm as still water—except for that moment when Lucky called me a LovePeddler and something had snapped inside Michael…

“Madam, Madam.”

At the tap of a hand on my shoulder, I tore my eyes away from the emptiness I’ve been gazing at for the past…how many minutes? Hoping the car that drove him away would bring him back.

“Everybody don enter the house.” Enter house? As in retire for the night? How would I even sleep knowing that I’d ruin my chance with a good man? “Security people go soon come ask us what we dey do outside,” my gateman added.

“That’s true.” I wouldn’t want to add ‘being embarrassed by the estate security to my already ruined day.

One last glance at the empty street and I dragged my feet inside, trudged into the house and slumped on the sofa.

It was as if my emotion was waiting for me to be in this enclosure before it ran wild. As soon as my butt touched the piece of furniture, I released a cry, near the sort of scream one might hear from an emotionally wounded person.

“I’m so sorry,” I sobbed, curling in on myself and burying my face on a throw pillow. “I’m sorry.” I didn’t know if I was apologizing to God, to Michael or to both of them—even though I couldn’t feel any of them at the moment.

Not feel any of them…That shattered me and dragged a gut-wrenching pain through my body.

“Take not your holy spirit away from me,” I murmured amidst sobs. “I need you.” And I need Michael. Don’t allow him to walk away…

God: Call him.

What?

God: Call him.

But he wouldn’t…

God: Obedient, Martha.

Jerking to my feet, my eyes made a quick search for my phone and then I remembered I had it in my handbag which I must have dropped outside.

“Madu! Madu!” I shouted my gateman’s name, heading outside. “I dropped my bag here, did you…”

“See am their nau.” He pointed. The bag was seated comfortably on the interlocked floor.

I made a little run in that direction, snatched the bag and my hand groped inside it and came out with the phone as I walked back inside.

With my heart in my mouth, blood pumping fast in my ears and my inside jittering as if I was deep inside Ice-cold water, I dialled his number.

He wouldn’t pick…

He wouldn’t pick…

He picked!

Jesus! What do I say to him? How do I start?

“Martha?” His voice, that low vibrating tone of one who just woke up from sleep, floated into my ears, knocking me dumb and shamelessly desiring that I was…he was…” Martha.” he called again, his voice firmer and I guessed he just rolled to his side on the bed or maybe…pulled himself to a seating position because I heard the mattress groan.

“You picked.” That must have been the most stupid thing someone had said to him over the phone because I heard him chuckle.

“You called.” He replied, releasing a vibrating breath. Even without trying, Michael could get me flushing all over. “Are you okay, Martha?”

“Yes…no…oh Jesus.” Why was he acting as if tonight didn’t happen? He’s making apologizing hard. “Michael.”

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry.” I wish I could say that a million times until I could convince him that I was ashamed of what happened. “What you saw…” Wasn’t what he thought? How I hated that ‘caught in the act cheating partners’ cliche. Hated it the day brother John Bosco— My fiancee number two, said that to me when I walked in on him sucking and handling our church’s chief usher’s voluptuous chest-melons in his house, snorting and suffocating on the pair like a pig digging the ground with its nose.

I even loathed it more when fiancee number last—before Michael— spew the words shamelessly, four months after he called off our engagement and had married some lady from his village. I’d wanted to know why… to know whether there was something other ladies had which I wasn’t blessed with.

It’s not what you think—A phrase used by stupid cowards.

Yet, I was about to say it to him.

“I had no excuse,” I said rather. It was better I own up to my stupidity. “I’m so foolish and senseless…”

“Martha…Martha…” He cut in. “Don't do that.”

I felt my heart constricting and breathing became difficult. I knew he wasn’t going to listen to me. Who would blame him? I wouldn’t listen to me if I were him.

“I won’t allow anyone to use those words on you, and wouldn’t have you use them on yourself.”

Did I tell you earlier that breathing was difficult? Well, now my heart stopped entirely—Not literally. I stood dumbstruck for God knows how long, trying to comprehend whether I was dealing with a man or an ethereal being.

He’s supposed to be angry. To allow me to hurl insults at myself because I deserved it. Why did he stop me from doing that?

Who’s this man?

“So, go ahead. I’m listening, just don't use those words on yourself.”

“I…I hurt you so much today, I’m sorry.”


The silence that followed was worse than emotional torture. Tightening my lips to a thin line, I waited for him to say something. Mentally pleading that he should speak. But he remained silent, only his periodic sigh that grazed into my ears announced that he’s still there. Listening.

“I’m so sorry,” I repeated.

“He kissed you.” Though his tone was low, I could taste the edge in his voice. Could picture his face creased in disgust.

“No…”

“No?”

“No...I mean yes…But…I didn’t permit him to do that.” God! How do I explain this without sounding foolish? “He…he grabbed me before I could stop him.”

Another silent beat.

“Who is he to you?” He was calm and I hated it. Hated it because I didn't want him to be like that, wasn’t even expecting that he would pick my call!

“He’s Just… a colleague,” I said.

“You know that’s not the whole truth.” But it is! What else did he want to hear? “Martha?” He added. The way he used my name, like a British duke, Martha? With that impeccable foreign accent.

“He’s my colleague…” I pictured him raising a doubting brow. “I…we…” I wasn’t sure If I could call the brief thing I had with Lucky, a relationship. “We dated briefly. Years ago but things didn’t work out.”

“What happened?” I heard the mattress croaked again, he must have laid back down or rolled to another side.

“He left Enugu and stopped calling.” Now he’s back and has sworn to either get me or ruin me. “It was an innocent date.” So I thought. “I didn’t know all these would happen. I’ve never even given Lucky the impression that I have feelings for him because I don’t! There was a party in the office…”

He listened while I narrated what happened and what led to it.

“You love him?” He asked

“Jesus, no!” For the life of me!

We slide into another silence.


“It’s okay.” He finally said.

Okay? Just okay? Did he mean that or was he trying to politely tell me, ‘Thanks for waking me up to bore me with your story, now you can get off my phone?’

“You…you are not going to say anything?” I asked. It’s okay isn’t just okay for me. It sounded more like a polite dismissal.

“I just said ‘it’s okay.”

“But it’s not enough…” I almost cried. What man remains this calm after witnessing his woman being kissed by another man? It’s not natural. This reaction, this serenity he’s fronting.

“What would you rather have me say?” Shout at me, voice your displeasure, tell me how low I acted and how disappointed you were… “I must confess I was disappointed when I saw the both of you.” He added.

There… that’s better.

“I came to atone for what my daughter did to you. I came because of you. There was no meeting anywhere. It was just because of you— You took away my happiness when you wouldn’t pick my calls nor reply to my messages. You made me restless.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No woman had ever made me this weak and…” He swallowed the rest of the words. “I couldn’t stand it that you are mad. At me. At my daughter.”

“I wasn’t mad at you.” I couldn’t be mad at him, I love him.

“I thought I could surprise you.” He sighed. “Then you surprised me.”

“Obim, please.” What have I done? How do I clean the mess I made?

“I was red with anger and jealousy.” Jealousy? He was Jealous? And angry and… “You don’t know the torture, the pain I go through each time I hold you in my arms, have your face so close to me, you beautiful mouth an inch away from mine and yet I let you go without sucking on your lips until both of us lose breath.” His voice sank even deeper—rich, raspy as if I was with him and he was speaking into my ears.

“Mi…”

“I dream of running my fingers on your skin, kissing and ravishing every part of it and having you do the same to me. But that’s how far I could go. Dream. Because the bed mustn’t be defiled.”

Jesus! What was he doing? Deliberately arousing every sense, pulling on my lust. I could feel my essence clenching. Not just because of his words, but how he said them.

“Only for one…” he paused. “For that boy to…”

“I’m sorry, Michael. I didn’t allow it. He just…”

“It’s okay.” He cut in. “I believed you.”

“You… do?” I should be happy but I wasn’t. Wasn’t even sure how to react to his abrupt forgiveness that sounded like a dismissal. “Michael, please…tell me what to do to make amends.”

“Nothing, Little woman.” He just called me…little woman? And I couldn’t believe that having him call me that now would make me want to laugh and cry at the same time.

“Then come back,” I said. My hand flew to my mouth immediately, maybe to stop me from sobbing out loud. “I want to see you.”

A ripple of smooth laughter floated into my ears and I couldn’t stop myself from joining in. “Do you know what the time is?” He concluded the laughter with a chuckle.

“Then I’ll come to you. Tell me where to find you.”

“You’re crazy, You know that?” That I was. Crazy and desperate to make amends even though I didn't know-how. “I will not allow you to step out of your house this late. Martha, It’s past ten pm.”

The tension between us was ebbing, I could feel him relaxing and actually enjoying our talk. “Then tomorrow. You’ll come tomorrow.”
“Good night, little woman.” He was laughing again.

“Will I see you tomorrow?”

“I don’t know. I have to meet with the minister for land properties tomorrow morning.”

My face sank. He wasn’t going to come to see me again

Finally ooo... Thank you sis for the update

[quote author=Amadihenrio12H post=109317754]Sister Rose we still here oh

Just finished refreshing for the hundredth time today..... Sis Rose bia na

Rosemary33:
Ah! Who opened door for trolling and quarrelling here? I can't even read all the vents and responses.

Let's be calming down small small nau

No be Mr pumpkin abi puff-puff with the grammatical blunder

I travelled out of town for two weeks and the place has no network service. Please forgive me, everyone.

It's not intentional o.

I will drop the next chapter this night as I'm back in town.

Na beg I dey beg biko nu o


Thank God for journey mercy.
Welcome nne'm oooo

womens are sopose to like moiney.y the atitude & y r u so rudes?am from London & whie women dont act like this this is y we dont date black womens esppecialy if u african or nigerian,u all the same.i have moiney & am a litrature writer novel.i want to make moiney wit u so u can make good moiney.again this is yor big shance to make a coool N7000naira juss to pose naaaaked wearin thong for my new book for noveling.i write boook for movie. U want or u no want? Coz i aint got all day. Am not even askin for sexxx yet &;yet u doin shakara like u all dat...i begggy!
..and by the way i own bmw & range rovers juss in case u ask. I ccan even take u for a drives if u act nice like lady.please groooowup!(no oofenese)


Radarada with all this grammatical blunder


I quit

goood morrrin am writin a novels for a movie & am the director..please do u hav yansh?


Pumpkin gerrout of hia now

@Lilly4endu


No be small monitoring spirit ooo..

Common

Bia nwanem Rose, Biko post na...
Can you imagine I kept on refreshing the page every now and then...


This is a beautiful piece my dear sister

Aunty Rose daalu oooo....


But what is wrong with Martha na

Well-done sis...

Martha hmmm....

Martha

Seemed I would be having Lunch with Lucky after all.

Not looking forward to it but what would a girl do? Lucky had found a way to convince the MD that he could be of help in the advertising contract we were pursuing.

Trust the smart pant, the MD bought his ideas hook line and sinker. So here I was at the lot, debating which car we should ride off with.

"Yours or mine?" He asked.

Does it really matter? I didn't want to go anyway with Lucky. Not that he was a bad guy, I just didn't want to hear him prattle about resurrecting the relationship we never had the chance to groom.

"Any of them is fine," I replied.

"Mine then. I've been wanting to show it off to someone." With his hand on my back, he led me to a sleek, red Toyota Camry. "It's a 2018 model. Got it last month." He beamed.

"It's nice." I was Impressed truly. Not that it changed anything about the way I felt about him though.

"Just nice? Matty, this car is sexy."

Matty? Was that supposed to be a pet name? I swallowed the sharp responses that were pushing to come out of my mouth, slid into the car and he closed the door.

"You won't regret this." He said as he took his seat behind the wheel.

The lunch or his getting involved in my business?

"I will make sure you have a good time." That answered it.

"We are doing this because we are expected to brainstorm and come up with a winning presentation in case MY proposal is accepted," I stressed the MY because I did it and I wanted the smarty pant to know that. And this brainstorming should have been in the office. But this runaway crush had insisted on a business lunch date. Claiming that good ideas are always birthed over plates of food.

"Brainstorming...yes...sure." He threw me a glance. "So, what do you know about the hotel?"

Truth be told, I knew nothing other than the hotel we were bidding to advertise was a new baby of a larger conglomerate. And they have agencies—two of them—that were already seeing to their advertising and marketing needs.

Their door wasn't open for new bidding. My MD only wanted to leverage the relationship he had with one of the directors to gain entrance.

I said it wasn't possible. My reason? We were still an average firm. The MD said it's possible and I had to make it happen.

His reason? I could get any deal I set my eyes and mind on. I'd done it on several occasions, but this one? I don't know why I wasn't elated about it.

"I can tell you all you need to know about this company and more." Lucky started with an enthusiasm of a kid who thinks he's the smartest in class. "You know I lived in Abuja all my life and my uncle is a manager in one of the subsidiaries?"

I didn't know and wasn't interested. Okay...I was interested, after all, I would be doing the physical presentation if the management of this hotel invites us over and I needed all the information I could get.

"The mother company is called Adbowel groups." I know that already.

"I'm starving, Lucky," I said.

"You are? Sorry, Matty. I want to take you to this nice place I discovered at water lines. Just that it's a little bit far."

Matty, If this guy calls me that name one more time, I swear I would cry.

I was about to roll my eyes when a sudden slice of guilt walked through my heart and I gave him a stolen glance.

I shouldn't be treating Lucky this way. He'd done nothing to me.

Huh...he broke my heart. But he's trying to make amends and there's nothing wrong with that.

Just that what he wanted, I wasn't ready to give.

Would have given him a chance had Micheal not...

Not now Martha.

"We are here." Lucky announce as he veered off the road, to the left and pulled the car into this new place.

****

Micheal

I am responsible for showing her to you, her becoming yours is strictly your doing.

So, the Lord had chosen to leave the work of finding the lady to me.

What happens to work his purpose out? If it's his will that she be mine, he was supposed to make it easy for me to meet her again. But the Lord was specific with what he told me three nights ago;

I show you business opportunities, soften the hearts of kings for you. I don't do the investment for you.

And his point was? go get your woman, old man.

How do I even do that without raising scandals?

I needed help. Wooing a woman was something I've not done in a long time and now I had to even search for the lady?
Bitting on my pen, I considered taking the next flight to Enugu where she told me she was residing.

But then, the coal city wasn't just a street where everyone would know everyone and going through the fellowship would be a useless venture as we had more than one hundred chapters there so locating the one she attends would be quite a task.


Can I ask that you tell me how to go about this please Lord, I promise I wouldn't bother you again.

No response.

So I went back to check my emails— I was supposed to get a message from the office of the commissioner for lands and property.

Halfway on it, my office phone rang. Someone was waiting to see me.

"Send him in," I said.

"Mr chairman, sir." Chief Olu, one my directors walked in.

"Chief."

"The new hotel...we spoke yesterday." We've been speaking almost everyday about the new hotel. The man had been on my neck over this new advertising agency.

"Why are you hellbent on us considering this new agency?" I pulled my eyes away from my laptop to gaze at the man.

"They will save us a lot of money. How much are you paying these other guys? Compare it to what these people are willing to take." The man walked to my fridge and returned with a bottle of drink and two glasses, Offered me one but I declined.

"These guys are relatively cheap." He said, pouring himself a drink.

"I don't do cheap, I do result."

"And you will get results, my chairman." He sat down on the chair opposite mine. "I've known them for year's..."

"Oh," I arched my brows. "You have a personal interest then."

He almost choked on the drink. "No no no..." Downing his drink, he leaned forward. "Arrr... Okay, Chairman. Yes, There director is a friend, alright?"

Bingo. I knew there was something more to this than this man was presenting. He wouldn't want us to use another agency simply because he wanted to save us some money.

"So, what is in it for you?" I asked. Returning my eyes to the screen.

"What?"

"They must have offered you something."

"No...nothing..."

I allowed some moments of silence while wondering why I should be discussing this with this man in the first place.

I have managers. Heads of subsidiaries whose job description includes decision making—this new hotel already had a manager who Olu should have gone to with this offer.

However...

"Send their proposal to me," I said, hoping to do a back check on them before recommending.

Recommend. That's all I would do, It's left for the members of the management to accept or reject.

"Thank you so much!" The man said.

"I hope they meet my expectations."

Thanks for the post sis. More wisdom,knowledge and abundant blessings. Amen

[quote author=Rosemary33 post=107877157]Four

Martha

"Sir..."

"Michael, the name is Michael."

"I know, but I can't call you that." I brought my voice low for the fear of being heard by passers-by.

We shouldn't be seen together!

He stared at me for a while... Was the weather cold or was my inside melting into a puddle at his intense gaze?

"You know you have to learn how to use my name someday," he said.

I know that, but now... Everything seemed too awkward and overwhelming.

He was overwhelming.

"We better start heading to the car if we are going to escape the many that may trudge me soonest."

"I... I can get a cab to my hotel, I don't want to stop you from attending to the needs of others."

I felt a brief flash of jealousy at the thought of him giving his attention to others... Softening his eyes and baring his impeccable teeth at them in a smile.

God! I shouldn't be doing this. Martha, your emotions shouldn't be on overdrive.

He sputtered laughter he seemed to be holding back for a while. And oh... The sound of it.

"You are exactly the way he said you will be."

Wait... What? While I was minding my business, God was giving this man my portfolio?

"What else did he say to you?" I asked boldly.

"If we leave here fast, I may have the time to tell you half of it."

Half? I wanted all, I thought as I followed him to the park where his entourage was waiting.

Was it just me or were all these people waiting for him looking at us as if the sky had fallen. It was obvious this prince of gorgeousness hadn't been seen with a woman for a long while.

And to think that he opened the car and urged me in while every other person waited.

God... I should turn back and run.

A few minutes later and we were riding home. In his exotic car that was filled with his presence and an aura of the Holy Spirit.

We said nothing to each other for a while. What was there to say? Having him sit beside me took my breath away.

I was awestruck!

"You are nervous." He finally broke the silence.

"I'm not."

"You're trembling."

Yes, I was. Not from the cold air emanating from the AC that seemed to be working in full blast. But from the knowledge that he was there. And the fact that I was suddenly feeling pulled towards him.

If this was love, it shouldn't be this striking. I'd appreciated it to go slow, but...

"So do you mind giving me your name now?"

"You didn't ask for it before."

"I am asking now."

Was that a hint of amusement in his voice? "Martha," I said, allowing my eyes to roam the interior of the car. God! This man must be eating dollar notes for breakfast.

"Martha." He relished the name as if it was warm milk in his mouth. "I love it."

"Thanks." I needed to say something other than one syllabi word. I was beginning to feel As if I was a dumb idiot sitting in that car.

God, you set me up for this, please don't let me fall my hand.

"You want to ask me something?" How in Jesus' holy name did he know?

"Sir?"

"It's Micheal to you. Please call me by my name."

"It will take me some time to get used to calling you, Micheal."

"You just did."

Laughter bubbled inside me, nudging my mouth and I let go. Okay... The sound of my laughter isn't pleasant to the ears. I know that when I laugh, it could be mistaken for an engine chortling to life and the worst was it always ends with a subtle snort.

I didn't want to laugh the way I did before him for fear of turning him off, but then he joined in and before long, a ripple of smothered laughter circled the car.

When it ended, I turned and caught him staring at me as if I was the best thing that ever happened after Akara and bread.

"Sir?"

"You laugh like a child. So freely..." Was it a good thing? "And can you please tell me what it will cost me to have you call me by my name this night?"

It wasn't hard to address him by his name, what was hard was trying to tone down the feeling of awe I had for him so I could be able to at least look him in the face.

"What do you do?" I asked the only question that was able to form in my head.

"Aside from jumping from one platform to the other preaching the gospel. I'm an architect by profession. An estate developer and a businessman."

No mention of the many five-star hotels that he had, scattered all over the country. The malls and plazas... Ha! Why was he trying to form humility?

God: Because he's mine.

Oh! How could I ever forget that God is in the car with us? Nice...

"You mind telling me about you? What do you do?"

"Nothing big." Compared to your portfolio. "I work with an advertising agency. Head of marketing."

"Oh."

Yes, oh... And when did I leave the far end of the car I curled myself to earlier and was now edging towards him? My knee could almost brush his and I fear what would happen to my poor inside if that happens.

Horses would be galloping at the pit of my stomach.

I found myself loosening up as he navigated our discussion from personal information to social lives and every other thing.

And it wasn't like he was out to interrogate me, he just wanted to have a conversation and was having fun doing it.

I liked it that I was the one who could make him laugh so hard that he was dabbing tears from the corner of his eyes.

"I can't believe you are making me laugh this hard," he said. "It's been a long while I experience this kind of freedom with anyone other than my children."

"I am glad I was able to make you laugh, Micheal."

"She finally called me by my name."

To that, I felt warm walking up to my cheeks at the same time the car slowed in from the hotel I was lodging.

I felt the joy of the last few moments dissipating, leaving me with gloom as the car finally stopped.

This would be my last moment with him until we were able to decide where we would be taking this relationship (If I would call it that) to.

"Don't do that," he said, covering my hands with him. I had to swallow the pleasure spree that rushed up to my throat.

Goodness! His palm was as soft as a baby's skin and I heard my heart sing as his hand made contact with mine.

Was it too early to call this love?

"What?" I managed to ask

"Your face. Don't look sad." He noticed! Did he know I was going to miss him so much?

"When will I see you again?" Wait... Did I ask that? God No! That was a desperate question.

"When the Lord wants it to be." Am I dating the Lord now?

"I will make sure we see again, soon. I promise."

And I believe him. With that, I stepped out of the car.

I was already retired for the night when I remembered that we've shared almost everything about us except numbers.

He didn't ask for my contact. What kind of man spends time with a woman and does not collect her phone number?

Or would God provide him with that too?

You should have asked for his instead.

I shouldn't be the one doing the wooing, he's supposed to be the forward one here, not me!



Thanks for the update sis...
Expecting more

Pls oooo madam Rosemary don't leave us hanging ooo.