FIVE

Whatever did her relationship statues ever have to do with her job? or the job Solano was going to offer her. Shola almost choked on air when he asked.

"You have to answer little girl. Silence isn't going to make me forget or skip the question."

"Yeah! Usually, silence means 'Thank U Next' but OK. If I must answer, I'm single." It was like a wave of good wine had just washed down the heaviness Solano carried in his heart: thinking of the possibilities that she could have already been taken drove him nuts; mentally that is. He rolled up his sleeves and jotted on the paper in front of him. "Will that be all sir?"

Sir? sir! oh he loved how that sounded. He was going to make the most of every single time he had left in Nigeria; he didn't have much anymore. He had just gotten a call from his business overseer in Milan and his very first business accomplishment was falling down. It's not like the fall of one supermarket in his chain of supermarkets in his chain of businesses was going to cause him any major loss. The place was just very sentimental to him. He'd built it with his late wife, and they'd called it SOLENA. It was a merger of both their names; Solano and Serena. He's been spending millions upon millions on the place, but the competition was crushing it down and now a part of it had just burned down. Solano knew he had to leave urgently but something else was on his mind. The thoughts of her were haunting him. The desire burned badly inside of him, and he knew it would not stop until he had her. That was a weakness that had followed him from the moment he decided to stop grieving over Serena and Lauretta. If he could just have her, he'd forget about her thereafter. That was how it always worked with him.

"That will be it! I'll ask someone to draft a contract tonight and tomorrow we must agree and start working."

"Does that mean I'm hired?"

"If you agree to the job; its terms and conditions."

What was more confusing for Shola was his tone. Every single word his said was spiced with need and desire. Shola had met and known her fair share of men in her life to know when the was something lustful about their language. She wouldn't exactly be complaining if that was the case, but it was a little frustrating contemplating if he was into her or not. For one, baby girl wasn't looking for love. She had grown to accept the fact that love was a fantasy luxury that wasn't made for her. She'd be OK if she could get a mature man who could attend to and satisfy her needs; in every way, she'd be willing to succumb to his person if he could build up that fire she's never felt anywhere else in her, she'd be ready to stand by his side when needed if he'd stand by hers too: but most of the boys Shola had known and attempted to date in her life were either too childish in behavior for her, or not totally her speck. Reason why she never let such relationships live more than from the moment she meets the guy. She'd gotten to a point in her life where boys her age and slightly older were little boys and Solano would call her little girl. But this man as she saw him; a manly man; was her speck. Rich, hunky, sexy, a Brazilian name and a British accent: it was like father Christmas had read her diary and sent her an early Christmas present.

"Can I ask a question now?" Shola asked Solano. The cook had started cleaning the table and lowkey, Shola wanted to ask her to save her some of her delicious stew for takeaway. 

"Go ahead," Solano popped an olive into his mouth,

"What kind of job are we talking about here?"

"I tell you and you promise to still keep it in mind: you cannot just shred it away immediately. I know it might sound a little insensible."

"Insensible! You're not going to ask me to be your bodyguard, are you?" she joked, feeling her nerves bundle up, silently praying:

Say sugar baby! please say sugar baby!

"Can you?" he joked back, flashing her a million dollar smile,

"You'd be dead in seconds,"

"I thought so. But That is not it, it’s more," Solano paused for a few seconds, taking in her posture; her lower lip caught between her teeth. He tried reading her eyes. It was so easy, he could see right through her. "It is more of..."

Shola turned to the side and eyed the packaged food Elizabeth had wrapped for her. Even the greatness of food couldn't build up her mood. She felt belittled, insulted and totally guilty about wanting to be his sugar baby before. How could he have thought of such a thing about her? What impression had she given him exactly about herself? Was it the dress? or the way she ate in front of him? Why was her own so damn useless?

"Olorun! Olorun o! Nje omo re ti o gba bi? Fojuinu mi! Omashola! Eniyan funfun yoo gba mi fun panaga! Mo ti jiya!!!" (God! God oh! Am I your adopted child? Imagine me! Omashola! This guy will take for a prostitute! I have suffered.) She fought the urge to not cry. She lowkey was hurting. Her ego and pride had been wounded. He asked for one night!

(FLASHBACK...

"It is more of a sexual relationship," Shola choked on air, "A night stand thing," again, she choked on air,

"What? one- One night, I don't get it."

"I will be leaving for Milan in three days. Might not be back for a while, you caught my attention and, I want you.'

"Still not following,"

"A well-compensated one night stand, with you, before I leave for Milan." Shola felt like her world together with her hopes and dreams were crumbling down. "Plus, you get to keep this house, Elizabeth is paid by the bank so not your problem and...'

"No!" She quickly cut him. Every word he said now was like a jack hammer in her head; beating sense into it. "Excuse me but I am not a prostitute." she stood up, "If I was you never would have gotten me fired from a minimum wage paid job just to bring me here and tell me you want to pay me for sex; for one night!" she picked up her purse and stomped out,

"Omashola you promised me an open mind. You think about it first before you discard it. And it is not as you just put it. I am not going to leave you here jobless you know, there will be a better paying job with everything else. Think about it first." he picked up his phones, his paper and pen and started walking away, he stopped and turned to her "I always get what I want little girl! And I want you! The house' papers and everything else will be on this table tomorrow. You sign the agreement deal, get it all after the deal is sealed. But, there's a 24hours expiry date for it. Don't make us both suffer, I know you want this too as much as me. I see it in your eyes, your body," he paused again for a while, then turned away, "I'll call someone to pick you up and take you home." He walked away, leaving her stunned beyond repair.

What the fuck had just happened?)

Omashola clapped both hands together simultaneously, "Shola! Shola you have suffered." She sat on her bed for almost three hours just contemplating how lowly she thought she had fallen. At one moment, she decided thinking about it wouldn't make it any different than what it already was.

"All this years, abstaining, saving myself, just to sellout like a prostitute!' stronger than her desire to be able to afford a good pair of Aldo or smell like Laurent Saint Yves, was her pride and dignity as a woman. Nothing could make her just give it out. Not even Solano. "No! No way!"

The devil himself was comfortably lying on his bed, a glass of whisky in his hand, tapping numbers on his phone. He dialed a number and brought the device closer to his lips.

"Yes Mr. Vicenze?"

"Did you drop her off already?"

"Yes sir,"

"So, you know where she lives. Is it governmental or private lands?"

"Government sir," Solano immediately hung up and dialed another number, the receiver almost immediately picked up,

"My favorite foreigner! How can the minister be of help this time Mr. Vicenze?"

"Save the flatteries for another your excellency. There's this property piece of space I want. Can it be evacuated for me as from tomorrow?"

"That is quite urgent Sir,"

"I leave for Milan in three days, and I need this now. Your price,"

"Oh Mr. Vicenze! For you and my price, it is already done. Which place are we talking about..."