First time encounters- The Senator’s Daughter

This week, I’m sharing the first face to face encounter between Rita and Nosa from The Senator’s Daughter.

The very first time they meet, he is hauling her into a vehicle after kidnapping her. How awkward! He he.

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Strong arms engulfed her as she hit her head against a rigid wall. Okay, maybe it wasn’t a wall. It felt like firm chest muscles. The alluring aroma of maleness and cologne that filled her nostrils tightened her chest. She inhaled deeply. She had died and gone to heaven in the arms of Angel Michael. Rita buried her face in his chest, and she felt the pounding of his heart against her cheeks.

“Angel Michael,” Rita whispered, resting her face against his broad chest, feeling safe in the arms that carried her. This was heaven. “Thank you, Angel Michael.”

“Bloody hell! You scared the shit out of me! What the hell is wrong with you!” The voice that barked at her was gruff. Her eyes snapped open. That was definitely not the voice or words of an angel.

“Who are you? Let go of me!” Rita screamed, suddenly aware of her surroundings. She had not jumped off the bridge as she had intended, and a stranger held her in his arms, refusing to let her go.

“Let go of me!” she cried again, hitting the stranger on his back. He neither responded to her command nor flinched from the force of her blows. He simply turned, holding her firmly in his arms and began moving towards a vehicle.

“Let me go, please,” Rita pleaded, alarmed. Reality set in; she was being abducted by this man. “Please let me go. Who are you?” The man still did not respond. She began to panic, really panic. She was alone. No one knew where she was. She immediately regretted locking Tango back in the bungalow. If this man took her somewhere and killed her, nobody would even know where to find her.

“Do you know who I am?” Rita’s panic-stricken voice rang out again. “I am Senator Obaseki’s daughter. My father will have you killed.” Anger replaced her fear. “Let me go! Do you hear me? My father is very rich…”

He remained silent as he carried her to the black car parked at the other end of the bridge. Rita noticed the opened front door of the vehicle, but before she could say anything more, he slammed it shut with his foot.

The stranger yanked open the door to the backseat and dumped her inside. She tried to kick him away, but he held her legs together and pulled out a rope from the floor of the car. Keeping her legs bound with ease, he tied the rope around her ankles and knotted it. Rita’s arms flapped about, throwing punches at the man in a state of terror. She hit him anywhere she could find his flesh, but he didn’t duck or flinch.

He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a small knife. Rita’s eyes widened. She held both hands above her head in surrender, temporarily immobilised by fear. “Please don’t kill me. I’ll give you money. Name your price. Whatever amount you want, I’ll give you.” His facial expression was indifferent, as if unimpressed by her declaration. Without even looking up at her, he used the knife to cut the rope and placed it back in his pocket.

After securing the rope on her ankles, he retrieved another rope from somewhere in the car and reached for her forearm. He captured one forearm in his large hand and aimed for her other hand. Rita didn’t make it easy for him, aimlessly flailing her free hand around, trying to elude his grasp.

“What do you want? Money? I can give you up to ten million Naira today if you let me go.” She searched his face anxiously for a sign that he heard what she’d just said. There was no emotion there. His focus was aiming for her hand. Fear gripped her insides. This was not about money. This man didn’t need her money. And that was frightening. What did he want? Was he a rapist? A ritualist?

“Give me your hand,” he muttered in a low voice. Rita continued to evade his attempt to gather her hands together. “I don’t want to hurt you. Just give me your hand.”

“Please, let me go, then. I have money. Loads of money I could give you today if you let me go.” Her voice became desperate. “Please…”

“Give me your hand now,” he said again. This time, there was an authoritative ring to his words that made her heart jump. Rita offered her other hand to him.

While he tied her wrists together, Rita studied him silently, trying to recall if she had met him before. His glossy skin was a deep mahogany hue that she would have found appealing under different circumstances. He had a long face with piercing large eyes below thick well-carved eyebrows. His nose was long with flared nostrils, and his full lips stood out amongst his precisely trimmed facial hair. Closely cropped smooth curls crowned his head, tapering to thin sideburns.

Her frantic mind search for previous encounters with this man came up empty. She hadn’t met him before, had she? Was this personal? He was a tall, muscular man with a commanding presence that she would not easily forget had their paths crossed. No, she hadn’t met him before. She was sure of that.

“Please let me go, I haven’t done anything to you, have I? I don’t know you, do I? Please let me go…please…I can give you money.”

He didn’t look up or even acknowledge her statement. He used the same knife from his pocket to cut the ends of the rope that secured her wrists before replacing it in his pocket.

Glancing up at her, he ran a thumb over her bound wrist.

“Does this hurt?” he asked in a tone that Rita would have described as compassionate were she not tied hands and feet in the back seat of his car. It took a moment for her to realise that he was referring to the rope on her wrists. Rita shook her head.

“Good…” He brushed his hand over his face. “Listen, Princess. I don’t want to hurt you. If you do exactly as I say, you will be fine,” he warned her. His intonation was a rich baritone that cracked at the end of his sentence.

“What do you want? Are you a ritualist? I can give you money if you are a ritualist… Name the amount…you don’t have to do anything to me. Please. I’ll pay double whatever they are offering you.”

He laughed in response. The sound of his laughter reverberated in the air. Not replying to her comment, he slammed the car door shut and walked over to the driver’s seat and sat down.

“You are a rapist, then. A big man like you… Do you have to resort to rape to have sex? So, you can’t manage to find a girl to convince to sleep with you? You should be ashamed of yourself!”

He remained silent. Rita’s fear intensified. Her throat tightened with tears. She was going to die. This man was going to rape her, kill her and leave her body somewhere nobody would ever find. And it was all her fault. Oh, God. Why did I lock Tango inside the bungalow?

“Where are you taking me? Please don’t hurt me…please…” Rita’s tone wavered. Tears fell down her eyes.

Her plea seemed to touch him, and she noticed him pause his movements. He glanced at the rare-view mirror and their gazes linked. “I promise I won’t hurt you, okay?” he said gently. Rita watched him open the glove compartment and pull out a small syringe. He took out a tiny needle from a box in there, tore away the packet, and attached it to the end of the syringe. “This is the only thing that will hurt. But just like a sharp sting, like a mosquito bite. Nothing dramatic.”

Rita could barely hear what he was saying. Her needle phobia kicked in. Blood drained from her head, causing her to feel dizzy. Wide eyes with dread and her gaze focused on the advancing needle, she remained paralysed, so scared that she didn’t even feel the sharp sting of the needle as it pierced the skin of her arm. All she could feel was the blood pounding in her ears.

“You will soon become light-headed,” the man continued in a deep voice. “And then slowly fall asleep. Don’t worry; it’s a low dose, so you will be fine when you wake up, Rita.”

Rita? He had called her by name. She was not a random victim. This man knew her name.

“How do you know my name? Why are you doing this? Who are you?” The man did not reply. He started the car, pulled out of the side road where they were, and drove towards the main road.

More questions formed in Rita’s head. But her brain became fuzzy, and slowly, just as the man had warned, her eyes grew heavy. The questions whirled around in her brain in disjointed circles until she could no longer keep her eyes open or her mind alert. Heaving a deep sigh, Rita gave in to the darkness that claimed her. But not before she noticed the flash of regret that touched the stranger’s sharp eyes.

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I hope you enjoyed reading. Please drop a comment.

Purchase Links:

Okadabooks: https://okadabooks.com/book/about/the_senator_s_daughter/17711

Nook:  https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-senators-daughter-amaka-azie/1128062054?ean=2940155150718

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/gb/en/ebook/the-senator-s-daughter-13

Amazon UK: http://bit.ly/TheSenatorsDaughterAmazonUK

Amazon US : http://bit.ly/TheSenatorsDaughterAmazonUS

Smashwords: http://bit.ly/TheSenatorsDaughterSmashwords

iBooks: http://bit.ly/TheSenatorsDaughterApple

Bambooks: https://bambooks.io/Book/BookDetail/The-Senator’s-Daughter/11318

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I’m writing Again…Yay!

I’m so glad to be writing again.

I completed chapter one this morning and that’s usually my most challenging aspect of writing. Once I get through the first chapter, I usually feel more motivated.

I woke up very early this morning because the characters in my head wouldn’t let me rest. They kept yapping and changing their minds about what character traits they wanted to portray.

Okay, I know I sound crazy. But that’s how I am when my characters take over. Be warned. I’ll be crazy for a few weeks/months until they tell their stories and leave me be.

Yomi, the main male character wants dreadlocks. Ha! In a Nigerian setting, he’ll get some grief about it from his parents, aunts and uncles, that’s for sure.

I can’t wait to write hilarious dreadlock stories. “Cut that rag from your head and look decent for once, Yomi!” Hehehe…

But really, how did our natural hairstyle become repulsive to us?

Why did Africans change so much to appear “civilised”?

Food for thought…









Dreadlocks—An African hairstyle

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The Governor’s Wife— Preview

Hello everyone

As promised, here is the preview of The Governor’s Wife.

Chapter One—Part 2

“I’m sorry, Phil, but I can’t wait for you any longer. Our plans just aren’t practical. It will take years. You have no job, and I’d be waiting for a dream that is totally unrealistic.” She took a deep breath, as if afraid to utter her next words. “Deputy Governor Uchendu is ready to marry me now. Not years from now, and it’s an opportunity I can’t pass up.”

Like a play, her words came out with practiced clarity, as if she had repeated them to herself over and over and over again…as if trying to convince herself the explanation carried a scintilla of plausibility and absolved her of treachery.

She gathered in another breath, let it out and continued. “I’m the only daughter in my family and almost thirty. Almost past my expiration date. So, my family approved the wedding, the bride price has been paid, and the traditional rites done.”

Philip swallowed hard. Tiny spikes of pain tore at his heart with every word she uttered. Yet he couldn’t seem to overcome the cold shock that transfixed him. He stared at a complete stranger.

“I came down to tell you personally. I didn’t want you to hear it from someone else…because of our history. Our love.”

“Love…our love,” he repeated. “Osanobua! What a beautiful love story. Someone will surely compose a love song about us.” A harsh laugh rose up in Philip and spilled out like red hot magma from a volcano.

“How dare you even say the word. You know nothing about love.” He took a step back from her, quarantining himself from her and his feelings. “While I’ve been here, trailing from one interview to the next, practically begging anyone who would listen for a job, you’ve been securing your own future by selling yourself to the highest bidder.”

She sucked in her breath. Her eyes widened, and he could see the shadow of hurt in them, but he was too far gone to care.

“We both know the waiting isn’t the problem. It’s the money. He is a rich Deputy Governor and I’m not.” He clenched his jaw until it ached. “And we both know your age has nothing to do with this. You’re only twenty-five, a long way from thirty. Which even if you were, doesn’t justify rushing into marriage blindly. So, don’t tell me it’s about your age. It has never been a problem for us. Never!”

Philip strode slowly towards Ogonna again and halted right in front of her, pinning her with his eyes.

“If this isn’t about money, Ogonna, call off the wedding now. We’ll get married, if it’s marriage you want. Let’s do it. Call this rubbish off, and let’s go to court. We could live here in this BQ.” He waved his hand around the small self-contained, one-bedroom apartment he shared with a former classmate and friend. “I’ll ask Femi to move out. I have a job interview next week, and if I get it, the salary is enough to kickstart our future.”

His hopes came alive when he saw her eyes mist and spark with possibilities. Encouraged by this, he continued. “Call the wedding off, Ogonna, I’ll marry you today.”

Silence. For a brief moment, he thought he noticed the familiar tightening of her jaw…saw a rock-hard determination that always etched her features when they talked of their future plans, both personal and professional. They had talked constantly about their dreams of building a real-estate empire. And their four children, for whom they would create a legacy…together. While other couples lived moment to moment, he and Ogonna had been Mr. and Mrs. Power Couple in university. Philgonna, their friends had christened the pair, as if they were a celebrity couple.

Hope seemed to wrestle in her eyes for a few seconds. Then, a sob broke free. Confused, Philip took a step closer to her. She moved back, as though his nearness scorched her.

“Ogonna, please tell me. What’s going on?”

“I’m sorry, Phil. It’s too late.”

“Too late…what does that mean?” A sudden bout of nausea rose to his throat as a horrifying possibility popped into his head. He became very still.

“Are you pregnant?” The question came out in a low growl.

“No!” she denied sharply. “No!”

“Then why…why are you doing this? Nothing makes sense. I have been faithful to you. Never once strayed. And I know you have been faithful to me, too. Until now. Why? Why this governor? Why now?” He paused, his chest heaving with the emotions charging through him. Nothing was adding up.

He half expected her to break into a laugh. To shout April fools! before pulling him into her arms and assuring him it was all a joke. But it wasn’t April. And even a bat could see the tears in her eyes were real. And the engraved invitation card lying on the floor…frighteningly real, too.

“Because he can offer me and my family stability,” she muttered. Tears streamed down her cheeks in a sad trail. “And I need that.”

And here he was, right back to the beginning—unable to believe what he was hearing from the woman he loved.

“Need it more than you need me…more than you need our love?” he asked in a low voice, afraid to hear her answer.

“Yes, yes, yes,” she screamed, the words seeming to come from the bowels of hell. “More than I need you or our love.”

And then, without warning, Ogonna turned and fled from the room as though the hounds of hell pursued her.

Philip stood staring at the door for long seconds after it slammed shut in his face. Tears he’d been holding back fell freely from his eyes, and he made no attempt to wipe them away.

Slowly, he walked over to the corner of the room and picked up the elegantly designed white and gold wedding invitation off the floor. He stared intently at the words typed in bold italics as though the more he looked, the sooner the nightmare would end.

             The families of Chief and Lolo Moneke and Chief and Lolo Uchendu,
invite you to the holy matrimony of their daughter, Ogonna Moneke
and son, Deputy Governor Kene Uchendu
on Saturday, November 12, 2011.

Three weeks away. The wedding was only three weeks away. He stood there in utter disbelief.

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Cover reveal- The Governor’s Wife

The cover of The Governor’s Wife is finally here! Yay!

Blurb

Newly separated Ogonna Moneke has come to Abuja to open a safe house for abused women. Luck is on her side when the perfect site falls into her lap…until she learns who owns it. The chances of Philip Adamu renting to her are slim to none. Why would he when she dropped her financially struggling college sweetheart like a hot potato to marry someone else?

Real estate tycoon Philip Adamu can’t believe his eyes when Ogonna struts into his office. Seven years earlier, the gold digger had kicked him to the curb to marry a wealthy politician. Now she needs him, more like needs his property. Vowing not to rent her so much as a dog house, Philip shows Ogonna the door. But can he resist the feelings he’s denied for so long when he sees her flirting with a rival developer?

Sparks fly the moment they meet again. But he’s engaged and she’s still hiding the dangerous secret about her marriage.

Can love and forgiveness overcome the lies and deceptions?

Can they trust each other and the future they’d once dreamt of?

Coming Soon…

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