Black Sparkle Romance (4 page)

Rufus shrugged. “We told you so.”

“I hope you weren’t bothered by that?” said Dominic in his low baritone voice. She became aware of how close she was sitting to him, and that made her nervous. His voice sent delicious chills down her spine.

“I’m OK,” she said.

“You sure?” As his hands brushed over her palm on the table she almost keeled over with longing. OK, fine … she was attracted to him, but he also had a way of getting under her skin. What was with all the touchy-feely stuff,
and for goodness’ sake why was she thrilled about it? She was supposed to be working, not sitting on a deck with a sexy freelance photographer.

She stood up. “I have to leave.”

“Ah, this early?” Rufus asked. “You just got here.”

“I have to get back to the office. So, if you don’t mind, Mr Dominic, I need you to sign the contract now.”

He stared long and hard at her, his hazel eyes a pool of liquid fire. Mira swallowed and averted her eyes.
Stop it!
Her Rational Mind chided her.
Look at him! Who does he think he is, staring at you that way? Show him who is boss, Mira!
But she couldn’t, and she only looked up when she heard his pen moving over the paper.

He handed her the signed contract. “Here you go, Miss Mira. It’s a pleasure doing business with you.”

She resisted snatching the papers from him.
The jerk!
“Thank you.” She turned to Rufus. “It was nice meeting you, Rufus,” she said, meaning it.

“Same here, Beautiful,” he said and waved goodbye.

Without looking at Dominic, Mira took her bag and made a beeline for the door.

Dominic breezed into her office unannounced a week later. It was a tepid Wednesday afternoon. It had rained the night before and the air was damp, the streets wet. Sade and T.J. had come to Mira’s office, armed with shopping bags, and they were chatting over lunch when he came in. Clad in black trousers, a purple shirt with long sleeves rolled up to his elbows and dark sunglasses, he looked sexy and dangerous at the same time.

He looked straight at her and said, “We need to talk … asap.”

Stunned, Mira gaped at him. The effect he had on her was alarming – she dropped her fork on her desk with a clatter. She had to do something about it; she had to conceal these feelings. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that she started snowboarding down a hill of desire whenever she saw his face. “What are you doing here?” she said in a gruff voice, hoping that would channel some of her annoyance.

“Work,” he shrugged, and turned to Sade and T.J. They were staring at him too, their mouths open. He smiled. “Hello.”

“Hi,” they replied in unison, smitten. Mira rolled her eyes at her friends, although her own heart was racing.
God, does he look hot or what?
She felt blood pumping at her temples.

“Work?” she repeated. “What work? I’m busy.”

Adeleye appeared at the door, panting heavily. “Phew, man, you can walk fast! Can you believe I was practically running after this guy to keep up?”

“You should have told him I was busy, Ade.” Mira said.

“I did! I told him but he didn’t listen.” He looked at Dominic. “See for yourself!”

Dominic protested. “But, you’re just having lunch, Mira.”

“So?” she shot back.

He sighed. “Anyway, I found the perfect site for the photo shoot and I want you to see it.” He nodded at her bag. “Get your bag and come with me.”

She shook her head firmly. “No. You can’t just barge in here and dish out orders. I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“I told you so,” Adeleye said in a triumphant voice.

T.J. sent her a pointed look that said, “Er … oh girl, you dey serious? I’d follow this one to the ends of the earth if he asked me.”

“He’s so handsome,” Sade breathed.

Oblivious, Dominic growled under his breath and walked towards her. “Listen, Mira, you’ve got to come with me. This is important.” He tried to take her hand but she shrugged it off.

“I said I’m not going! And don’t you touch me again!”

He groaned, raising his hands in frustration. “Seriously! Is this
happening
right now?”

“She’s a fox, this one,” Adeleye said. “She says she ain’t going, she sure ain’t going. Give it up, Hulk Hogan.”

“Oh, don’t worry, she’ll go with you,” Sade said. Smiling sweetly at Dominic, she retrieved Mira’s Fendi bag and jammed it on her friend’s shoulder. “Well then, off you go!” she breezed, and gently pushed a stupefied Mira through her office door, T.J. behind them. “We’ll see you at home – have a great time,” she said.

T.J. quickly locked the door and stuck the key into her bra. “You can even forget to come home if you want.”

Mira started to say, “B-but I have to sew—”

“That can wait till you get back, Mira Diva,” Sade said. “Go. The dress won’t grow wings and fly out the window, and we can help you with it at home. See? All settled … now off you go.”

Adeleye looked ready to argue. “But she’s got work—”

“Shut up, Ade,” they barked at him, and the fierce retort made him obey. They smiled at Dominic, patted Mira’s shoulder and began walking away.

“Ciao, sweetheart – see you when we do! Bye, Dominic!” T.J. winked at Mira and they disappeared through the front door.

“That was weird,” Adeleye said, and walked away.

Mira sighed. So much for concealing her feelings: her friends already knew she fancied Dominic. She saw his lips curve into a smile and she glowered at him. “And just why are you smiling?”

He seemed to be battling to keep a straight face.
“Nothing,” he said.

She started for the exit. “This had better be important.”

“This is it?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at him. “This was important? A beach was the reason you crashed into my office like a spaceship landing on the moon … a
fucking
beach?”

“Hey, easy with the swearing. And, wait, you don’t recognise this beach? This was the beach we were at when I signed my contract—”

“Wow, thanks! I didn’t know that!”

He ignored her sarcasm. “This is Coconut Beach, Mira; one of Lagos state’s historical sites. This place has a lot of history. It tells us about our forefathers taken away to foreign soils, places they had never known existed. This was the last memory they took away with them – this soil, these trees. He looked out to the sea and the cloudy horizon and shook his head sadly. “I’m sure that memory remained with them for the rest of their lives.”

“Uh … well, thanks for that history lesson, historian, but I don’t see what any of that has to do with the photo shoot,” Mira said. She was already sweaty from the hot sun and the humidity from the ocean air, not to mention bad-tempered. She kicked herself for following him here – her walking billboard of attraction – and it annoyed her that she could do nothing about it. “So if you really have nothing important to show me, can we leave?”

He suddenly grinned like a naughty schoolboy. “Let’s take a walk.”

Mira’s eyes widened. “Excuse me? Take a walk to where exactly?” she retorted, throwing her hands up as she looked around. “The whole area is deserted.”

He sent her an amused look. “Don’t tell me you’re scared.”

Embarrassment flamed her cheeks. “What – no! I mean …
hello
? My attire isn’t exactly meant for the occasion!” She gestured at her floral two-piece suit and glossy pink peep-toe shoes. “My shoes are not for beach walking. These are Gucci, they cost 100,000 naira, and I’m not ruining them for a stroll to God-knows-where!”

Dominic looked at the bones of contention for a second and shrugged. “Well, take them off then,” he suggested, and Mira’s mouth dropped open. “Who wears shoes at the beach in the first place?” He lowered himself to his haunches and took his trainers off. “That feels so good,” he murmured as he dug his bare toes into the warm white sand. “Go on, take them off.”

“No! I’m not taking off my shoes –
hey
…
what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Dominic swept her off the ground, hoisted her onto his shoulder and he began walking. Startled at the closeness of their bodies, she began kicking and flailing her arms. “Put me down, you mad man,” she yelled. “Help! Kidnapper o! Rapist o! Murderer—”

“Hey, you could add ‘Slave Master’ if you want,” he snickered.

She thumped her bag on his broad back. “Put me down!” she ordered, wishing she could kick him in the ribs or pelvis. “Mr Dominic, I swear if you don’t put me down I will kick you in the … somewhere you’ll regret!”

He seemed unfazed. “You don’t want to lose the ‘100,000 naira’ Gucci shoes and I am tired of your whining, so I think we should just walk this way, abeg. That will save us time, and your breath.”

“Put me down now, you—”

“Are you ready to lose the shoes?”

“Fine – I’ll take off the damned shoes! But put me down
now
!”

He obeyed and gently slid her to the ground. Mira whacked him on the shoulder with her bag, and he chuckled. She glared at him. “Do that again and I swear …”

He rolled his eyes with a mock bored expression. “Yeah, yeah – you’ll send an army of boot-camp soldiers my way … I get it. But please take off the shoes. We haven’t got all day, Missy.” He left her and began walking ahead. She considered flinging her shoe at his back, but noticed an old man atop a palm tree a few metres away staring at her. A palm wine tapper, Mira thought. Smiling, she yelled a greeting in Yoruba. He didn’t reply, just continued gaping. She decided against flinging the shoe and hurried after Dominic.

They walked alone along the deserted beach, but after a while spotted a few people: tourists in scanty bathing
suits lying on beach chairs and soaking up the sun. Local fishermen were dragging in their canoes, their nets full of fresh fish and prawns. Some surfers were out in the ocean, gliding through the frothy waves, while other people lay on top of their immobile boards and on the decks of their yachts, sunglasses on their eyes and foreheads, decorative straw hats on their heads. Mira bought one of the hats from the young guys selling on the beach, and with her Chanel sunglasses and multicoloured floral dress she looked beautiful. Mira saw several men sneaked glances as she walked past, and noticed Dominic couldn’t take his eyes off her either. He kept looking back, checking to see if she was still walking behind him and had not bolted.

Mira
did
feel like bolting. She was sweaty and tired, and as she waded through the sand she cursed him under her breath. Dominic sent her an amused look as she tiptoed gingerly over the white sand, and twice she missed her step and crashed to the ground. She yelped with fright, frantically dusting off the tiny grains of sand like they were venomous scorpions. The first time this happened he had a stony expression on his face as he tried to help her up, but the second time he burst out laughing. “If you keep walking that way you’ll just keep falling,” he said as she began rummaging through her bag, searching for her hand sanitiser. “Come on, Mira. Loosen up. It’s a beach – it’s clean and fresh. There are no germs here, OK?”

She glared at him. “You know what I’d want to loosen up right now, hmm? You! I want to loosen you up … then
tighten you back in a complicated knot and fling you into this ocean! I can’t believe I’m doing this, following you around like an idiot, waiting to be amazed by whatever it is that you’ve found for the photo shoot.”

“We are there already … you can stop your yelling now,” he said.

She looked around. They were standing a short distance from the shore, beside a coconut and palm tree grove. “What do coconut and palm trees have to do with our photo shoot?” she demanded.

“Can’t you see it?” he asked. “This is perfect! Look how the trees were planted … like sculptures waiting to be used!” He leaned on a nearby coconut tree and she watched him with a sceptical raised eyebrow. “The model would lean here, her flowing gown caught in the wind. We won’t need all the studio fans to create that effect. I can see it already, unique and natural.”

“I don’t know …”

“The crew and I found it yesterday. It’s a lovely place, Mira, you can surely see that. It would be perfect for the cover shot; I mean, how many magazines have a beach on their cover? All we do is take pictures in studios, instead of using the streets and the nature of this city.” He looked at her, his eyes shining with anticipation, like a pirate who had just stumbled upon a cave with bountiful treasure. “Be an exception, Mira. Make this month’s edition of
Black Sparkle
something memorable. What do you say?”

She gazed at the selected spot. She had to admit – it was magical. She could visualise Ifeoma Ogendu in a flowing blue chiffon Ankara gown, a smile on her dimpled cheeks. She imagined Ifeoma’s long, dark hair as the wind fluttered through her curls. Dominic was right – it would be spectacular. “What about Lauren? What if she dismisses the idea?” she asked.

Without hesitating, he shook his head. “She’ll love the idea … I mean, look at this place! Come on.”

“I’ll have to ask her first.” She noticed his shoulders slump with disappointment, so she cheered him up. “But well done for finding it, Dominic. It’s perfect.”

He grinned. Mira frowned, her heart racing. “What?”

“Hmm, that sounded nice – the whole commendation speech.” He winked at her. “You should consider running for Governor of Las gidi … you’ll make a good orator to the humble people of Lagos state.”

She hit him playfully on the shoulder. “Shut up.”

“Thanks for doing this, really,” he said as they retraced their steps. “It means a lot.” He said the last sentence with so much feeling Mira felt her heart jolt.

Inadvertently her mouth curved into a genuine smile. “No problem … glad to help.”

Dominic smiled at her. “Good. And please … it’s just Dominic … just as you called me a few seconds ago. Rufus said the “Mr” Dominic nametag makes me sound like a sex offender.”

She threw her head back and laughed.

They began the photo shoot on Friday. It was a balmy morning, and Mira was buzzing with excitement as she drove down to Badagry for the second time that week. Dominic had suggested shooting on the beach at Coconut Island and at the Badagry market, and they decided to do a tour of the sites before the shoot. They started with the Point Of No Return, a historical site where people were taken from Nigeria and sold into slavery in the 18th century. The environment was solemn with the centuries-old monuments standing high and silent, but full of secrets and history, the palm trees surrounding the area bright shades of green as their branches swayed in the wind. Mira was spellbound by its beauty, and cried when she saw the slave houses. Ifeoma was more emotional – she sobbed inconsolably for 30 minutes and ruined two make-up sessions, much to the chagrin of Ajoke. During the photo shoot, Ifeoma begged Rufus to make funny faces and crack jokes, which put her in the mood to pose for the camera.

At noon, they had an hour lunch break and Ifeoma disappeared to a resort for a massage. Rufus and Ajoke went for lunch, while Dominic suggested to Mira that they go for a walk. She agreed, delight tingling in her abdomen. Dressed in a green cotton summer dress, a white jacket and sandals, she was ready for the beach this
time. But at intervals she caught herself tiptoeing on the sand, her eyes peeled for any arachnids or crustaceans, dead or alive. They stopped at a small seaside restaurant for Coke and fried snails. The owner, a dark woman with full, dark eyebrows, threaded hair and tribal marked cheeks, cast an amused look at Mira, and muttered something to Dominic in Yoruba as she placed their drinks on the bamboo table. He replied in Yoruba and they both chuckled. Mira, frustrated that she wasn’t fluent in the language, asked what the woman said.

“She asked why you were walking on your toes like a flamingo,” he said and laughed again.

Her face was stony. “And what did you tell her?” she asked, fearing the answer.

He shrugged. “I told her you were a chronic ajebutter and this was only your second time in Badagry, so you think lions are buried underneath the sand. She was like, ‘Oh, that figures.’

“Dominic! That was not fair! I am not an ajebutter … I’m just myself!”

“Well then, prove it, Mira.”

When they left the restaurant, she made an effort to walk naturally on the sand.

On their way back to the site Dominic pointed to a yellow semi-detached house with a red corrugated iron roof that stood a few metres away. Purple jacaranda trees surrounded the area. “That’s where I live,” he said. “My house is two houses behind the Whispering Palms Resort.”

She stared at it, enthralled. “It looks beautiful,” she breathed.

His voice had a low timbre, deep and warm. “Thanks.”

She turned to see him watching her with such intensity that she dropped her gaze. She looked towards the horizon, the cool ocean breeze wafting through her hair and dress. “B-but why did you choose here?” she asked. “Badagry is beautiful, but it’s almost two hours from the city. Besides, it’s still underdeveloped compared to Lagos city. Why stay here?”

“This, Mira,” he swept his arm towards the ocean, “this is where I found my muse, the creativity behind all those photographs I take. Some people find theirs in solitude, some in music but I found mine in nature, in the oceans of Badagry and the history behind it. Besides, I got fed up with the city and its noise … I needed a place where my creativity could flow. And when I came here, it did.”

She was silent for a while, and then said, “I know it sounds strange, but I found my muse through cooking.”

Dominic raised both eyebrows. “Really?”

“Yes, it’s funny but true. It was years back – I was 15, I guess. My parents were holding a dinner party and I was helping out in the kitchen. We spent the whole morning preparing all kinds of dishes: from ogbono to ofe nsala, jollof rice to coconut rice, plantain to pounded yam. When we were done, I looked at the large table with the colourful dishes and a wave of creativity hit me so hard I felt hazy. So I went into my room and sketched the first of
my designs. I sold them to a designer during my first year in college, and the money covered a year’s expenses.” She laughed. “OK, you can laugh now.”

He shook his head. “No, I have no desire to laugh. That was a wonderful story – really.”

She believed him.

The women at the Badagry market were the most fun. Ifeoma bonded with them, and within minutes of their arrival they had bestowed many fond names on her: Omo Eko, Omo Fresh, Omo Butter, Sissy London. Mira loved them. Some thought she and Dominic were a couple, and, during the shoot, a frail old toothless woman said she saw her getting pregnant next month with the way they were in love. Mira, mortified, quickly put her right. But Dominic and Rufus became animated, egging her on, and when they left the stalls she tried whacking their heads off with feigned annoyance.

On their way home, Rufus saw a local jeweller advertising on a board tied to the traffic light pole. “Yes!” he exclaimed. “Let’s buy the ring for the coming wedding!
Awon marriage noni!
” he said in Yoruba, rubbing his hands together gleefully. He turned to Mira, “What ring would you prefer – how about 18-carat gold with a chunky diamond?” he winked at Dominic.

“You’re mad, Rufus,” Mira joked.

“Yeye, you no see the man so?” Ajoke hissed in pidgin. “Na zero carats that one get oh!”

They burst out laughing, and the joke was forgotten.

But later that night as she was going to bed, Mira recalled the moment with a smile. Putting aside her undeniable attraction to Dominic, she was beginning to admire his personality. She marvelled at his tenacity, his jovial and carefree attitude and his perspective of the world. She remembered how he had held the baby of a local fisherman and his family whom they met on the beach. He knew them, and after chatting with them he took a picture of the family and discreetly gave them some money. But Mira had been looking, and for a moment that single act had filled her heart with so much love and admiration that she had toyed with the idea of a future with him in it. She yearned to know him better – to see what he saw, to feel what he felt. She wondered about his family, if he had brothers and sisters, and suddenly realised she knew nothing about him, apart from his photography.

And then like lightning it hit her:
I don’t even know if he has a girlfriend.

The thought squeezed her heart with so much jealousy it rendered her breathless.
What if he does?
she thought wildly, feeling her fantasies fade in the air like the smoke from a stomped-out fire. Of course not … it didn’t seem as if he did. He had never mentioned it, but then she had not asked either … and she didn’t plan to do so. I’m pretty sure he is single, she assured herself. But then her Rational Mind reared up its head.
Oh don’t be silly, Mira … of course the man is hooked up. How many,
hard-working and successful men in Lagos are free, single and searching? 0.01%! – his height alone would make women go gaga – and he is loaded. He’s hitched, forget it.

“You’re right,” Mira sighed. Dejected, she shut her eyes, feeling the knife of disappointment slice through her like a sharpened machete through fresh grass.