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Enormous designer sunglasses covered most of her face, but even without seeing her eyes, he could feel the chill in her presence. Her lips were pursed. Her posture, impossibly erect. Regal. Distant.

No smile. No warmth. No explanation for her lateness.

“Morning, Madam Regina,” Tope said, lowering his head in a respectful nod, voice careful, even rehearsed.

She didn’t smile. Didn’t slow. Just nodded once, the gesture so slight it could’ve been mistaken for a shrug. “Let’s move.”

They flew business class—of course they did. Nothing less would suit her. The seats were wide, plush, and spaced for comfort, but none of that mattered to Tope. He was rigid as a board beside her, shoulders locked in place, hands folded neatly in his lap. A soldier in uniform.

She barely spoke during the flight. Not even a stray comment. Not a question. Not a sigh.

She took the window seat without asking, of course. Slid into it like it was hers by divine right. She crossed her legs, delicately, and turned to her iPad as though he didn’t exist. Occasionally, she sipped orange juice from the glass handed to her by the flight attendant—always with the same quiet elegance, her fingers long and unhurried. She looked like someone reading over state secrets, not a domestic passenger on a short-haul flight.

Tope, on the other hand, sat upright in the aisle seat, his back never quite touching the chair. He kept his eyes forward, afraid to glance at her, afraid not to. His mind ran wild, but his face remained still, a mask of calm that betrayed nothing.

Every second ticked past like a drumbeat in his chest.

And yet, through it all, he hoped—hoped for a glance, a word, a crack in that icy wall she carried like armor. But Regina gave him nothing. Not even her silence felt personal. Just business.

Just cold.


---


The black SUV pulled up to the grand entrance of the Transcorp Hilton, its tires crunching softly over the polished driveway. Abuja’s late morning heat shimmered in the air, but inside the lobby, everything was crisp, cool, and calculated—like her.

As they stepped into the expansive marble-floored lobby, Tope felt the weight of the place press down on him. It wasn’t the chandeliers or the uniformed doormen or the hush of old money that unsettled him—it was walking two paces behind Regina, knowing full well he’d never catch up.

She walked like she belonged here. Like the Hilton had been built around her presence.

The concierge, recognizing her immediately, greeted her with a blend of deference and urgency, as though even his welcome might be judged. Within moments, two key cards were handed over in a discreet envelope.

Regina didn’t take hers immediately. She turned to Tope, her sunglasses now pushed up into her braids, revealing the full clarity of her gaze—sharp, unblinking, surgical. She didn’t raise her voice, but somehow, the space around them seemed to go quieter.

“Separate rooms,” she said flatly, locking eyes with him. “Floor ten. You’re in 1007. I’m in 1012.”

Tope’s lips parted slightly, but no words came. He didn’t need to speak. She wasn’t finished.

She was acting too cool for my liking. Rather than following me upstairs to my room, she went straight to her room. I followed her there.

'What's the problem, Esther?' I asked.

'Nothing.' She sat on her bed and I sat by her. I just felt I should say or do something that would make her to be excited.

'I miss you,' I said. She didn't say anything.

'Did you hear me?'

'Yes.'

'And you didn't say anything?'

She folded her arms across her chest. I wrapped my left hand on her shoulders.

'You don't believe me?' I asked.

'I don't know.'

'But you should know.'

She didn't respond. Okay, she was playing games. I could play games too. I knew what to tell her that would make her smile and to be warm, and I would do just that

'My darling,' I started. It was the first time I would use such an endearment for her. I could feel her body glowing. I rubbed my hand on her back.

Then, I cautioned myself. Must I play this game with her? Must I say those things I had in mind to say, just to please her? I wanted to stop myself, but I could not. But, what was special about Esther? Among all the numerous ladies I had dated, she was the one that had the least sexual appeal to me. Did I even date her? Was I not just flirting with her? She ought to be the least consequential among my ladies. What I should do was to get on my feet and leave her room. If she refused to yield in to my flirting with her, I should forget about her. There were numerous other ladies I could flirt with, ladies that were much better than her.

Alright, Seyi, my mind said. Get up and leave her alone.

I could not. Right now, I had no sexual urge with her, but felt like being good to her. Everything should not be about sex.

I caressed her back again and she leaned her head on my left shoulder. Well, her warmth was returning and I somehow found myself glad about that.

'How was work?' she asked.

The magic was working. I grinned to myself. 'Fine.'

'I miss you, too,' she said.

I chuckled. 'Now, I'm here.' I placed her on my legs.

'My period has started,' she warned.

I didn't find that repulsive. Rather, I held her tighter. 'It's okay,' I said. 'I just want to feel you.'

She hugged me in return and we remained entangled for several minutes. I could feel her heart beat. I loved the feel of her chest on mine.

'When is your next birthday?' I asked.

'May 5th. Why did you ask?'

'That's just a few months from now. I asked because I wanted to know.'

I kissed her. I wanted to make it brief but end up making it long and deep.

When we stopped, she stood up from my legs.

'You've not changed from your office wears,' she pointed o
'Oh, that's true.' I got up from her bed and walked to the door. She smiled and followed me. Like the previous day, she helped me to remove my shoes and socks.

'What did you say are your future plans?' I asked.

'I will soon write UTME. I plan to gain admission to university this year.'

I nodded. 'What do you plan to study?'

She smiled. 'My first choice is law.'

I grinned at her. 'Oh, so you have the plan to be a lawyer. You really think you'll be able to defend cases in court?'

She laughed. 'I'll try to.'

We continued to chat until mum came home. Some hours later, after my dining, I was in my room watching a movie when my phone rang. It was from unknown number.

'Hello.'

'Hello, Seyi.'

It was a lady's voice. Now, who would that be?

'Sorry, who's on the line?'

There was a slight pause. 'This is Wuraola Alowo.'

I grinned. Of course, I remembered Wuraola, but I could not remember giving her my number.

'Wuraola, how're you?'

'Fine. You must be wondering how I got your number.'

I grinned again. 'Exactly.'

'I got it from mum's phone.'

That explained it. 'I see.'

'Yeah. I don't know, but I'm wondering if I can get a raise from you?'

That was a surprise. 'A raise?'

'Yes, a raise of five thousand naira. My tablet phone got damaged and I need that money to get it fixed.' I was indeed surprised. This was a girl I knew barely twelve hours ago, and she was asking for financial assistance!

'Why don't you ask your mum?' I asked, playing it cool.

'She won't give me,' Wuraola blurted out. 'Just two weeks ago, I got that same amount from her, but the gadget has developed fault again.'

I sighed. 'How much did you say?'

'Fifteen thousand naira.'

'How will you get it?'

'I'll text my account details to you, then you can do money transfer.'

Smart girl, I thought. But then, fifteen thousand naira was no big deal to me. 'Alright, send the accounts details. I'll send the money.'

Good to know. Christianity must however not be by nominal identity.

There is need to practice Christianity in truth and in spirit.

Nice one.

But for all her firmness, Tope noticed something else.

At 8 p.m., when most staff had gone, she would sometimes sit at her desk, staring out the window. Her face still. Her hands quiet.

He once brought her a bottle of malt on one of those nights.

She didn’t say thank you. But she took it.

And drank it.

In silence.


---

The Tension Builds

One evening, he found himself standing at her door after everyone had left. She looked up, surprised.

“You didn’t go?” she asked.

“No, Madam Regina. I wanted to check if you needed help wrapping the custom orders for Abuja delivery.”

She looked at him for a long moment. Not like a subordinate.

Like a man.

Then she nodded. “Good. Bring the brown packaging from the storage cabinet. And get tape. The branded one.”

“Yes, Madam Regina.”

As they worked together—quiet, focused, efficient—Tope felt the air between them thicken. Not romantic. Not sexual.

Just charged.

Like standing next to a thunderstorm that hadn’t broken yet.

After a long silence, she spoke again.

“You’re doing well. Keep your head straight, and you’ll go far in this business.”

He looked at her, the glow of the overhead lights softening the lines in her face.

“Yes, Madam Regina. I’m here to stay.”


---


The flight from Lagos to Abuja was scheduled for 6:30 a.m.—a cruel hour even for seasoned travelers—but Tope hadn’t slept a wink the night before. Sleep had toyed with him, flitting at the edges of his mind like a ghost refusing to settle.

He had lain in bed, eyes wide open, heart pounding against his ribs as he mentally rehearsed every possible scenario. Every word he might say. Every expression she might wear.

By 4:00 a.m., he was already dressed.

He had chosen his finest native wear—a sky-blue senator, sharp and immaculate, the embroidery at the neckline so finely stitched it shimmered when it caught the light. The fabric held the faint scent of starch and coconut oil, a familiar aroma that somehow steadied his nerves.

He checked his reflection a dozen times before stepping out. Shoes polished to a mirror shine. Wristwatch perfectly aligned on his left hand. Face composed, but inside? A storm.

He arrived at the airport before dawn, long before the first call to boarding. The terminal buzzed with a sluggish, early-morning energy—travelers murmuring, dragging carry-ons, the soft clack of heels on tile. But he barely noticed any of it. He was waiting for her.

She appeared with only five minutes to spare—an entrance so precise it felt choreographed. Regina. She wore a dark green kaftan that flowed around her like smoke, her long braids tucked neatly under a silk scarf.

Enormous designer sunglasses covered most of her face, but even without seeing her eyes, he could feel the chill in her presence. Her lips were pursed. Her posture, impossibly erect. Regal. Distant.

No smile. No warmth. No explanation for her lateness.

The office assistant, Nancy, came to tell me Ms. Alowo wanted to see me.

I logged off and went to see her.

'Please, you will do something for me,' she said as soon as I entered the office.

'What's that, ma'am?'

'There's a file I was supposed to bring along when I was coming to work this morning, but I forgot it on my dining table. My daughter is in the house, and I've already told her I'm sending somebody over.' She looked at me curiously. 'You can handle that my jeep, can't you?'

Was there a car I could not handle? 'Sure, I can,' I said.

'Good.' She brought out the car key and handed it to me. 'Please, drive carefully. Go to my house. The number is 90B and the flat is upstairs. Anyway, Sule the security man will direct you. You will meet Wuraola, my daughter, and she will hand the file over to you.'

I nodded. 'No problem, ma'am.'

She brought three thousand naira from her purse. 'In case, there's need to buy some fuel, use this.'

I nodded again. 'Alright, ma'am.'

I left her office and walked down the corridor. Just then, I saw Titi as she made her way to the office. I waved at her and moved on. Her car was sleek and it made such a smooth drive. I might tell dad I wanted a change of car. The traffic was light so it took less than thirty minutes to get to her street.

Locating the number of her house posed a slight problem as the numbering was not in order. I finally found it and parked by the gate. The security man, the one she called Sule came to accost me.

'Ms. Alowo sent me,' I said. He didn't let me finish the sentence as he interrupted.

'She no dey house.'

I grinned. 'I know. She asked me to get a file from her daughter who is in the house.'

'Oh, it is her daughter you want to see, ba?'

'Yes, to get the file she said I should bring from her.'

He nodded. 'Okay. Go inside. Their flat dey right side when you don climb up.'

I nodded and thanked him. I got inside the building, climbed up the stair case and pressed the bell of the flat he directed.

In a jiffy, a voice called from within: 'Who is that?'

I cleared my throat. 'I'm the one sent by your mum to get the file.'

There was a moment of pause. Then, the door was unlocked and opened.

'Please, come in.'

I entered the living-room. 'Good morning,' I greeted.

'Good morning.'

Wuraola looked like her mum, especially with her eyes.

'Are you Wuraola?' I asked. The question was absolutely unnecessary, but I had the urge to ask it.

'Yes, who are you, please?'' She looked at me all over as if she was making an evaluation.'

'I'm Seyi and I work for her.'

She nodded. 'Yes, let me get the file.'
She went to the dinning-tab

'I was told you're a student of the university,' I said aloud. 'Why are you not in school?'

She soon came back to the sitting-room with the file.

'Don't you listen to news?' she parried.

I raised an eye brow. 'What news?'

'Didn't you hear that ASUU is on strike?'

Now, I remembered. Adebimpe said the same thing.

'Oh, I see.'

She smiled at me as I got the file from her.

'Thank you, Wuraola.'

'You're welcome.'

I nodded at her and turned to go. 'Have a nice day.'

'Yeah, you too.'

I left the flat and drove back to the office. This time around, there was some traffic. It took more than one hour to get back to the office. About noon, a truck came to deliver consignments of face caps and t-shirts bearing the name of the senator and the party logo. These were meant to be distributed to people when campaign and rallies started we sorted them out and arranged them in bales. By four o’clock, Ms. Alowo informed that I could close for the day. I had not seen the senator since morning. He had probably gone to attend some political meetings.

'I suppose you came with your car today,' she said.

'Yes, madam.'

'Good night, then.'

'Good night, ma'am.'

I changed my mind about going to the club, so I drove home. As usual, Esther opened the main door for me.

'Hello, Esther. How're you?'

'Fine.'

She was acting too cool for my liking. Rather than following me upstairs to my room, she went straight to her room. I followed her there.

We slept again and I didn't wake up till five thirty a.m. I had to wake her with a kiss. I went to the adjoining toilet and bathroom to ease myself and take a bath. Oh, what an eventful night! By the time I returned to the bedroom, she was sitting on the bed.

'You're good,' she said. 'Thank you.'

She handed an envelope to me containing money.

'Thanks, Ms. Amigos,' I said. I didn't even bother to count the money. I put the envelope inside the folder I had brought along.

'You have a very good rating,' she said. 'Keep it up.'

I smiled again. 'Thanks, Miss Amigos.'

'Hey, when we're together, Biola is okay.'

I nodded. 'Thanks Biola.'

I wore my clothes, kissed her good bye and left her room. The maid was already mopping the floor in the living-room downstairs.

'Good morning,' I greeted. 'Good morning, sir.'

I went to my car and drove out of the house. I got to my residence at Aguda, Ogba few minutes after six. Oh, what a night, I thought again.


Few minutes after eight, I was in my office. Helen had come and was attending to some clients. It was then I remembered that I had not counted the money Biola gave me. The envelope containing it was still tucked in my black folder.

I brought the envelope out and counted the money. The one thousand naira notes were in thirty pieces. I grinned to myself. That was my night proceeds. It was not a bad business. If I could offer such a service twice a week and receive the same amount, then I would make not less the two hundred and forty thousand in a money.

Apart from my bonuses at TMM, that was more than my salary. It was not a bad business, I told myself again. But everything, of course, would depend on how frequent such a 'business' came my way.

Just like Ms. Biola said, it was a business that must be conducted discretely. I would be a fool to let Helen know what exactly I did with Ms. Amigos.

When Helen later asked about the outcome of my meeting with the client the previous night, I told her that the client had decided to invest in our scheme and would soon be transferring money. I also told her that in the days and weeks to come, more society ladies would be convinced about the TMM.

One night, after a long day and a quick meal of Indomie and fried egg at his place, she called him again.

“Tope?”

“Yes, Madam Regina.”

“If I wasn’t your boss, would you toast me?”

He almost choked on his water. “Ehn?”

She laughed. “You heard me. You’re not blind, Tope. I’m a full meal. Some would even say... banquet.”

He grinned, heart racing a little. “Honestly? You’re confident, successful, and beautiful. So... yes. I would toast you.”

There was a pause.

Then she said softly, “Good. I like honesty.”

Another pause.

“Okay. Goodnight, Madam Regina,” he added.

She laughed again. “Oya, now you’re learning.”


---


The tone changed.

It started with a message.

Regina Awe:

“Tope, from now on, I’d prefer you address me as Madam Regina, not as any other title. We’re now getting serious to business.”



Tope stared at the screen for a long time, the blue light of his phone illuminating the quiet room in his Palmgroove apartment. It was 10:47 p.m. The same woman who had once laughed over lunch and teased him about his beard now felt… distant. Cold.

He typed, deleted, then typed again.

Tope:

“Yes, Madam Regina. I understand.”



Seen.

No reply.


---

Three days earlier, during an after-hours conversation in her office — the two of them sitting across from each other, the city of Lagos glowing through the large glass windows — she had dropped her guard briefly.

She had spoken in a calm, deliberate voice. No lipstick. No lashes. No performance.

“Tope, let me tell you something real,” she’d said.

He looked up, sensing the change in the air. No jokes. No winks.

“I’m 47. Not 39 like Google thinks. I have a daughter who finished in the university— Babcock. I raised her alone. No man. No husband. I’ve built everything I own with my two hands and a sharp mind.”

Tope had been silent, listening.

“I don’t do softness,” she continued. “I don’t do confusion. People look at me and see money, curves, packaging. They don’t see the woman who started by selling attachments in Oshodi, sleeping on the floor of a single room with a child who cried all night.”

She looked directly at him then.

“I gave you space to joke with me because I liked you. But this is business now. And I’m not your mate. Give me respect as your boss and your employer, and don’t cross boundaries.”

Tope had nodded.

“Yes, Madam Regina.”

That moment never left him.


---

A New Dynamic

At work, the energy shifted.

She no longer lingered in small talk. Her instructions came sharp, clear, professional.

“Tope, ensure the POS machine is functional before 9 a.m.”

“Tope, why is the inventory sheet not balanced?”

“Tope, you’re five minutes late. You want to go back to that mall in Maryland?”

She was no longer interested in building rapport. Now, she was building structure.

And Tope? He respected it. In fact, part of him admired her even more.

She wasn’t a woman playing power games. She was power.

When customers came in asking for “the boss,” and he pointed to her office, their faces changed. Awe. Caution. A little fear.

Inside that glass office sat Madam Regina — the woman who built a beauty empire and refused to be defined by any man or mistake.

But for all her firmness, Tope noticed something else.

A couple of hours later, a hand tapped me gently and roused me from sleep. I opened my eyes to see Esther staring at me.

‘I was hearing the sound from the television and I thought you were still awake,’ she said apologetically.

‘Oh, it’s you,’ I said, quite dreamily. I checked the clock in the room. It was few minutes to mid-night.

‘You’ve not slept?’ I asked. It was obviously an irrelevant question, but I had nothing else to say at that very moment.

‘Yes, so I came to see you.’

I smiled at her. I was now fully awake and could see that she was in bum short and skimpy top.

‘Something is bothering my mind,’ she said.

I sighed and sat up on the bed. ‘What’s that?’

‘It’s actually a question I want to ask you.’

I chuckled. ‘A question for me? Well, go ahead and ask it.’

She hesitated. I held her hand. ‘Come on, Esther, go ahead and ask your question.’

She still hesitated. I moved my right hand on her back in a handling manner. My hand went to her chest, but surprisingly, she moved away.

‘What’s wrong?’ I asked, surprised.

She shrugged. ‘Nothing.’

‘Then why did you move away?’

She became mute. I drew her to myself and made her to sit on the bed beside me. My left hand wrapped her shoulders. ‘Why don’t you tell me what it is?’

She shrugged again. ‘It’s nothing.’

‘No, I won’t believe that,’ I put in. ‘Did mum say harsh words to you?’

‘No.’

Did you quarrel with anybody?’

‘No.’

I suddenly grinned. ‘Have I stopped treating you like a lady?’

Now, she hesitated and I knew what she meant.

‘Okay, I’m sorry if I have. Forgive me. I’ll compensate you. What do you want me to buy for you?’

Her eyes suddenly lit up, but then, she shook her head. ‘It’s not about buying things for me.’

I rubbed her shoulders. ‘So, tell me what it is about.’

‘It is a question,’ she said.

‘Oh, come on Esther, go ahead and ask the question. Okay, maybe you think I’ll get angry over it. I hereby promise I won’t be angry. So, go ahead.’

‘Will you answer it?’

‘Of course, I will, except I don’t know the answer.’

She took a deep breath in. ‘Do you have any other feeling for me apart from just playing with me?’

It was my turn to take a deep breath in. ‘Oh, what kind of question is that?’

‘You promised to answer it.’

I nodded. ‘Yeah, but I don’t know what to say.’

She stood up. ‘That means you don’t have any feelings for me except the lustful urge.’

‘Hey, I didn’t say that.’

She moved towards the door. ‘You’ve implied it. Alright, goodnight.’

‘Come here. That’s your interpretation.’

She didn’t answer me. I was surprised that she walked out of my room. Hey, what was going on? Why was she suddenly behaving like this? Yes, I had been playing with her before, but I had only had sex with her once. I thought she enjoyed the whole thing, so what feelings was she talking about?

What game was she playing? I thought she came around so that we could play a bit, but see how she diverted the whole thing! I was angry with her. And to say that she disturbed my sleep!

I switched off the television and resumed my sleep. The next morning, I dressed up for work at the same time I dressed for work the previous day. I would not need to wait for dad to take me to the place of work again.

I was dressed in a white shirt, black trousers and black jacket. I decided that my job did not really require that I should be wearing tie for now.

A breakfast of cornflakes was waiting for me at the table.

'Good morning, Esther,' I greeted.

'Good morning,' she answered from the kitchen. I noticed that she had dropped using the title 'uncle' for me. I grinned and shrugged. She remained in the kitchen while I took the meal. She was obviously avoiding me. I decided to let her be for now. My breakfast was over.

I picked my black folder and went out of the house. I would be going to my place of work in the car today and I would be going to the club after closing, I decided. About a minute to eight, I got to the office at Yaba. I went straight to Mrs. Alowo' office to say good morning to her.

'Good morning, Seyi,' she replied. 'How're you?'

'Fine, ma'am.'

I went to my office. Rasheed and Titi had not come. I brought my smart phone out to read some on-line news. The office assistant, Nancy, came to tell me Ms. Alowo wanted to see me.

Poverty is multidimensional.

I dont believe having Jesus can save someone from material poverty. It may, but there is 100% certainty.

To me, poverty is when you have a lot (including mental health) , but you still think you are poor.

Politicians are like that.

Everything is about self-centredness.

I smiled. ‘That will be appreciated.'

So, I had to go back to the office I used and waited for her. Thirty minutes later, she called me that she was ready. I took my folder and we went out of the building. Her car was the Lexus jeep in the car park. She unlocked the car and I went to the passenger’s side. She drove slowly like somebody who was still learning or who was not used to Lagos traffic.

‘So, where were you working before you joined us?’ she asked.

‘I worked at Alashe and Associates, a firm of architects.’

She nodded. ‘How old are you?’

I grinned and told her.

She nodded again. ‘I have a daughter in the university.’

My eyes popped out briefly. ‘Really?’

She must have noticed the surprise in my tone. ‘Yes. And why’re you surprised? You don’t expect that at my age, my daughter should be in the day care, do you?’

No, I didn’t. All the same, I didn’t expect that she would have a grown-up already attending a university. ‘No, I did not,’ I answered.

‘Wuraola is twenty and studying biochemistry at University of Lagos, Unilag. She wanted to study medicine but had to settle for biochemistry.’

I nodded. It was not unusual to hear that.

‘I stayed at the G.R.A too,’ she went on.

Again, I was surprised. ‘Really?’

‘Yes. Senator Momoh gave me the two-bedroom flat to stay. It’s one of the benefits of working for the senator.’

I nodded. I could see that indeed, the senator was generous to her.

The jeep drifted with the traffic along Ikorodu Road until it got to Maryland and turned left.

Several minutes later, we got to Ikeja G.R.A.

‘What’s the name of your street again?’ she asked.

‘Egunjobi Street.’

‘That’s not far from my place. I live at Akinbiyi Crescent.’

I knew the place as I had been there many times before. When we got to the junction that led to my street, I thanked her for the ride.

‘I’ll like to get down now, madam. Thank you very much for the ride and everything.’

She pulled the car to a halt. ‘You’re welcome.’

I got down from the car, waved at her and moved on. The junction to my house was less than four hundred meters, so I could easily walk it. It was few minutes to seven when I entered our residence. Esther came to welcome me and to hug me as if we had not seen for a long time.

‘How was work?’ she asked.

‘Fine.’ I grinned at her. ‘How was home?’

‘Fine too. I understand you’re not working for daddy again.’

‘Yes. I now work for Senator Momoh.’

‘A senator in Abuja?’

I laughed shortly. ‘Yes, he works in Abuja, but his constituency is here in Lagos State. He is daddy’s friend. Right now, he is in Lagos, preparing for his re-election.’

I moved inside the house and climbed the stair case to my room. Esther was on my heels.

‘So, what will you be doing for him? Are you the one to campaign for him?’ she asked further.

I unlocked the door to my room and entered. She entered with me.

‘Well, I suppose I’ll be part of his campaign team.’

‘You’re now a politician?’

I grinned again. Normally, by now, I would have got irritated by her seemingly endless questions, but somehow, I was beginning to have a soft spot for her.

‘No, I’m not a politician, my dear Esther.’

I sat on the bed. She quickly came to my side to help in removing my shoes and socks. She never did that before, so I was quite surprised.

‘Thanks,’ I told her.

‘You’re welcome,’ she replied, smiling.

A car drove inside the compound. She pulled herself away from me.

‘That must be mummy,’ she said and hurried out of my room.

I grinned as I saw her hurry away. Oh, what a loveable character Esther was turning out to be. I sighed and changed into t-shirt and boxer.

By the time I got downstairs, Esther told me that mum had gone to her room. I sat in the sitting-room to await her coming, but I didn’t wait for long. Esther was back.

‘Mummy said you should see her in her room,’ she informed me.

I grinned at her and nodded. Then I stood up to go back upstairs while Esther returned to the kitchen. I knocked once and opened the door.

‘Evening, mum,’ I greeted.

‘Seyi, how’re you?’

‘Fine. How was business?’ That had become my standard way of greeting her.

‘Fine, we thank God. How’s your new place of work?’

‘Well, it’s not bad, but I’m learning new things.’

She nodded. ‘I know you’ll do well. I know you’ll adjust and do well.’

I nodded too. ‘I’ll try my best.’

I sat on her bed.

‘Have you eaten?’

I shook my head. ‘Esther is still cooking.’

‘I’ve told her to always start cooking evening meal on time. By seven p.m., the food should be ready.’

I didn’t say anything.

‘Let’s go downstairs and see how far she’s gone,’ she said further. I followed her out of her bedroom to the kitchen. Esther was in there, turning the wheat meal she was making on the fire.

‘I thought by now the food will be ready,’ mum said. ‘You should always start preparing evening meal on time.’

‘Yes, ma,’ was all Esther said.

I lingered a bit in the kitchen until the food was done and mum dished it in plates. I went to the dining table while Esther brought my food. As usual, the meal was more than what I could finish. Mum was always generous with dishing sumptuous meal for me. She too was at the table and while we ate, Esther waited on us.

I chatted with mum in the sitting-room after the meal until dad came. He too asked how the job went and I told him it was well. After staying in the sitting-room for several other minutes, I excused myself and went to my room. I switched on the television and watched the news absent-mindedly. By nine o’clock, I had slept off with the t.v still on

A couple of hours later, a hand tapped me gently and roused me from sleep. I opened my eyes to see Esther staring at me.

Thank God they are rescued.

Hypnotism is real. There are instances in life to make this plausible.

By the way, being madly in love with someone is a form of hypnotism.

“Where una dey go, oga?” the security guard had asked suspiciously.

“To destiny,” Tope replied.


---

At the showroom, everything sparkled — white marble floors, mirrors everywhere, and bundles of Brazilian hair that had their own spotlight.

Regina was already waiting, seated behind a glass desk like a queen on a throne, sipping herbal tea and scrolling through Instagram.

She wore a white jumpsuit that clung dangerously, and her wig? Water wave, 26 inches, bouncing like a Nollywood actress in slow motion.

“Tope,” she said, not looking up. “Welcome to the real world. First thing you need to know: In this business, confidence sells. And I don’t mean fake motivational quotes on WhatsApp. I mean real confidence — like walking into a room and making even the air turn and look at you.”

Tope nodded seriously, even though he was still mentally calculating how many months of mall salary it would’ve taken to buy just one of the wigs on display.

She looked at him and smiled. “You’ll assist me directly for now. Client consultations, product packaging, maybe help me with content. If you impress me, I’ll put you in charge of VIP clients. The ones that pay in dollars and ask for 'discreet delivery.’”

He blinked. “Discreet how?”

She grinned. “You’ll find out. For now, take this iPad and follow me. We’re going to deal with one influencer that says her wig 'melted too much.' Nonsense.”


---

Tope’s New Life

Over the next two weeks, Tope was introduced to a whole new Lagos.

He met Instagram influencers who only wore wigs once before selling them as “gently used.” He packaged serums for sugar mummies with "sensitive skin and scandal history.” He delivered edge control to a Nollywood actress who answered the door in a towel and said, “Aww… Tope, you’re cute. Can you help me with my zip?”

He barely survived that one.

At night, Regina would sometimes call him—not to talk business, but just to gist.

“Can you imagine? One client said I should reduce the price because her destiny helper hasn’t shown up yet. Tope, am I her helper?”



“Today I saw a grown man buy a wig for his side chick while his wife was picking facial cleanser on aisle three. I said, Lagos will show you shege if you’re not focused.”



Their banter became routine. Comfortable.

One night, after a long day and a quick meal of Indomie and fried egg at his place, she called him again.

“Tope?”

“Yes, Madam Regina.”

“If I wasn’t your boss, would you toast me?”

Interesting beginning. Keep it up. There's always something troublesome about big things.

She pointed at the desk at the extreme right.

I nodded and moved over to the desk. In my office at the architectural firm, I had an entire office to myself, but here, I was to share one with two fellows. Well, things did happen that way.

‘Alright, see you,’ Ms. Alowo said and left.

I braced myself up for the new challenges. When it was ten o’clock, Ms. Alowo summoned me to her office. ‘A meeting will soon start on campaign strategies. I will preside over the meeting and it’s holding in the conference room. You’re to be there.’

I nodded. ‘Yes, ma’am. But where is the conference room?’

She smiled briefly. ‘Don’t worry. You’ll soon know.’

Few minutes later, I got to know that the conference room was just down the corridor. It was quite large and could sit two hundred people at a time. About six of us attended the meeting. I was keen in listening to them and learning how they operated. The constituency was zoned and we were to meet with some party adherents at the zonal and ward levels on how to mobilize for the rallies and campaigns proper.

We also deliberated on the materials and souvenirs to distribute to the people. In- between the meeting, food packs of fried rice and chicken were served. I suddenly realized that this my new task was going to be interesting, after all.

By noon, the meeting was over. Ms. Alowo called me to her office.

‘How did you find our meeting,’ she asked.

I smiled. ‘I must say it was very interesting,’ came my reply.

She smiled too. ‘This is just the beginning. There are usually meetings upon meetings, at different places. It’s not easy but the end pays off. Where do you live?’

I told her the street and the area.

‘Interesting. Are you on your own or still living with your parents?’

‘I’m living with them,’ I answered.

She nodded. ‘That means you’re still a kid.’

I didn’t like that remark, but didn’t say anything.

‘Anyway,’ she went on, ‘there are some rooms in the boys quarters of this building. You can pick a room there. Anytime there’s meeting up till late in the night, you can sleep there.’

I nodded. ‘Thank you, ma’am.’

There were no more interesting events for the rest of that day, but I noticed that the senator kept receiving visitors upon visitors until he left around three p.m. I was back in the office I shared with Titi and Rasheed, but the duo soon told me they would be going to Surulere for another meeting.

I was amazed that they would be attending yet another meeting. I remained in the office till few minutes after four, mostly watching the cable news from the flat screen. I popped inside Ms. Alowo’ office.

‘Well done, ma’am. Sorry, what’s the closing time?’

She grinned. ‘No fixed closing time. Sometimes, you can go home by four, and sometimes, you’ll remain in office till ten in the night.’

I nodded. Since I didn’t have any other thing to do that day, which meant I could close. Ten minutes later, I closed and went to bid her good night.

‘Do you have a ride?’ she asked.

‘Yes, but I didn’t bring it today.’

‘If you don’t mind, wait for another fifteen minutes or so, I can give you a lift to Ikeja.’

I smiled. ‘That will be appreciated.'

They ordered food—she had jollof rice with goat meat and extra dodo; Tope, trying to look grown, ordered grilled fish and water, though he secretly wanted fufu.

They talked for nearly an hour.

Regina explained her business: imported wigs, curated skincare, high-end clients in Lekki and Abuja, and a need for someone who had “brains, manners, and market sense.” She was tired of lazy staff who came late and argued with customers.

“You,” she said, tapping her nails on the table, “are rare. I can train you. Maybe you manage one of my outlets. Or handle personal client orders. You know how to talk to women without being annoying.”

“I’m honored, ma. I’ll work hard. I don’t take chances like this for granted.”

She raised an eyebrow, leaned closer. “Tope, let me ask you something important.”

“Yes, ma?”

“What skincare do you use? Your face is too smooth for a Lagos man. Are you secretly using Korean serum?”

Tope burst out laughing. “No o. Just water and shea butter.”

“Haa! That’s witchcraft.”

They laughed, they ate, and for a moment, the world felt soft and unreal—like a scene from an African Netflix rom-com where the boy from Ibadan meets the woman with more confidence than a bank manager in December.

As they finished their meal, Regina tilted her head and asked, “So… are you going to keep calling me ‘ma’ when we work together?”

Tope smiled slyly. “Depends. If you give me salary and lunch every day, I might start calling you Madam Regina.”

She burst into a loud, delighted laugh that turned heads across the restaurant.

“I like you, Tope. You're respectful, but you have spice. I can work with spice.”


---


By the following Monday, Tope had officially joined Awe Luxe Empire.

His first day at the Lekki showroom started with an Uber ride paid for by Regina herself.

She’d texted him that morning:

"No okada, please. You’re a supervisor, not a street fighter. I’ve sent Uber. Come correct."



The car picked him up outside his face-me-I-face-you apartment in Palmgroove. His neighbors watched in confusion as he entered a clean Corolla with A/C and a polite driver named Samson who offered him chilled water.

“Where una dey go, oga?” the security guard had asked suspiciously.

“To destiny,” Tope replied.

“Oh, and Tope!” she said, glancing over her shoulder. “If I don’t see you in Lekki within the next one week, I’ll assume you’re not ready to shine.”

As the automatic doors whooshed shut behind her, Tope stood frozen, business card in hand.

From across the aisle, his colleague Chioma whispered, “Tope... you just jam destiny.”

He smiled faintly. “I think I just did.”

The next few days were a blur for Tope.

He kept Regina Awe’s glossy business card tucked inside his wallet like a sacred document. Every time he opened it to buy Gala or transfer money to his younger brother, the card would wink at him: “Call me, sharp boy.”

By Monday morning, he couldn’t concentrate.

He gave a customer a bottle of hair glue instead of hair growth oil.

Chioma leaned over during their lunch break. “Oga supervisor. So when are you calling your sugar investor?”

“It’s not like that,” Tope said, tearing his gala with more aggression than necessary. “She just offered a business opportunity.”

Chioma rolled her eyes. “Please. That woman didn’t come here to find staff o. She came to find a fine boy with neat beard and potential.”

Tope tried to ignore her, but the truth was, he’d already saved the number as “Madam Regina A – CEO🔥” on his phone.

That evening, after three hours of pacing, a quick haircut, and two failed voice recordings, he finally summoned courage and called.

The line rang once. Twice. Then she answered.

“Tope.” Her voice was smooth, like chilled Baileys. “I was wondering if you were shy or just stubborn.”

He chuckled, scratching the back of his neck like she could see him. “No o. I just didn’t want to disturb you, ma.”

“Hmm. First of all, stop calling me ‘ma’. You’re making me feel like I’m your auntie that sprays you ₦500 at weddings.”

Tope laughed. “Okay… Ms. Regina?”

“Still too stiff. Just call me Madam Regina, abeg. Or if you like, you can say Big Madam with fine kaftan.”

He laughed again, more freely this time. “Alright, Madam.”

“That’s better. So... when are you free? I’d like to discuss how you can work with me. Come to my office. Or… we can have lunch. That way you’ll see that I’m not just a CEO. I’m also a very good eater.”

Tope blinked. “Lunch sounds fine.”

“Good. Dress sharp. No uniform. I want to see your outside clothes.”


---


Two days later, Tope showed up at The Orchid Room in Ikeja GRA wearing his best white shirt, jeans that weren’t too faded, and the only cologne bottle he owned—sprayed very, very generously.

He spotted her instantly.

Madam Regina Awe was seated at a table near the window, sipping Chapman like it was wine. She wore a black lace blouse, gold earrings, and red lipstick so bold it could file a lawsuit.

She saw him and smiled.

“Hmm! So you know how to clean up. I almost didn’t recognize you without that maroon shirt of suffering.”

He grinned and pulled out the chair. “I try small.”

“You try plenty. You’re tall, you smell nice, and you didn't come late. Are you sure you're not married and hiding the ring in your pocket?”

Tope blushed, laughing. “No o. I’m single.”

“Good. I don’t like men with wife and apology spirit.”

They ordered food—she had jollof rice with goat meat and extra dodo; Tope, trying to look grown, ordered grilled fish and water, though he secretly wanted fufu.