The city below glimmered like scattered jewels as I stood on the balcony that morning, coffee in hand, staring at the endless Lagos skyline. The penthouse was quiet, too quiet, and yet, the weight of Jamal's presence seemed to linger in every corner, every shadow.
I wasn't ready to admit it, not even to myself, but I missed the way he moved through the apartment. Not the power, not the authority, but the small moments: the way he adjusted the papers on his desk, the quiet sigh he let out when reading, the way his lips curved slightly when he thought no one was looking.
I had barely finished my coffee when he appeared behind me, tall and silent as always.
"Good morning," he said softly, though there was a teasing edge I hadn't heard before.
"Morning," I replied, my voice betraying my nerves despite my best effort to sound calm.
He joined me at the railing, and for a moment, we simply stood there, looking at the city. The silence was charged, intimate, as if the world had shrunk to just the two of us.
"You're thinking," he said suddenly, breaking the quiet.
I blinked. "I… I suppose."
"You're always thinking," he noted, his eyes fixed on the horizon. "Sometimes, I wonder if you ever stop."
I wanted to argue. I wanted to tell him that I was just trying to survive in this overwhelming new world, that my thoughts were consumed with responsibilities, fears, and the contract itself. But instead, I found myself smiling faintly. "Maybe I just think a lot," I said softly.
He glanced at me then, and for a moment, his gaze softened. There was no judgment, no authority, only a quiet curiosity that made my pulse quicken.
The day passed in a blur of work, emails, and meetings I was still learning to navigate. By late afternoon, Jamal called me to the office. His tone was calm, but I sensed an edge beneath it, something I hadn't noticed before.
"I've arranged a meeting with Collin," he said, his dark eyes locked onto mine. "You'll be present. Observe. Take notes. And stay sharp."
Collin. The name made my stomach twist. He was one of the junior executives charming, confident, and arrogant in a way that immediately grated against my nerves. I had heard stories from Harper: Collin didn't take newcomers seriously. Especially women.
"I… I understand," I said, trying to steady my voice.
The office was sleek, modern, and intimidating. Collin was already there, lounging casually in the chair, smirking when he noticed me. "Ah, so you're the new… assistant?" he said, voice dripping with condescension.
I bristled, though I forced a smile. "Yes. I'll be taking notes and observing the meeting."
He chuckled lightly, but before he could say more, Jamal entered the room. His presence immediately shifted the atmosphere. The casual arrogance evaporated, replaced by a tense, almost electric quiet. Jamal's eyes swept the room, resting on Collin for a moment sharp, controlled, intimidating.
"Let's begin," Jamal said, his tone calm but commanding.
The meeting was tense, filled with numbers, proposals, and strategies. Collin tried repeatedly to challenge Jamal, to assert himself, but Jamal remained unshaken, answering every point with precision, confidence, and a subtle, cutting edge that made it clear he was in control.
I sat quietly, absorbing everything, my pen moving swiftly across the notepad. And yet, my attention kept drifting to Jamal, the way he leaned slightly forward when emphasizing a point, the subtle narrowing of his eyes when he caught Collin's arrogance, the almost imperceptible smile when he subtly embarrassed Collin in front of the team.
By the end of the meeting, Collin left quietly, fuming, and I felt a strange thrill watching Jamal reclaim the room with effortless authority.
"You handled that well," he said quietly as we walked back to the penthouse, his hand brushing against mine, just barely, but enough to make my pulse spike.
"I… I tried," I whispered, aware of the warmth spreading through my chest.
"You did more than try," he said softly, almost under his breath. "You observed, adapted, and kept your composure. That's rare."
My cheeks burned, and I looked down, trying not to let my heart show how much his words affected me.
Later that evening, the penthouse was quiet. I was in the kitchen, preparing dinner, when Jamal appeared behind me again.
"I thought you might need a break," he said, voice low and calm. "Come sit with me for a moment."
I hesitated. "I… I should finish…"
He reached out, lightly resting a hand on my shoulder. "For ten minutes. That's all I ask."
I followed him to the living room, and we sat on the couch, side by side. The air between us was charged, every small movement magnified by the proximity. I felt the heat of his body, the faint scent of his cologne, and I had to fight the urge to lean closer.
"You're working too hard," he said, studying me with those intense eyes. "You need rest. And… balance."
"I… I just want to do well," I admitted softly, my voice almost a whisper.
He tilted his head, his gaze softening in a way I hadn't seen before. "You're already doing well. Better than you realize."
The words made my heart ache. Not because they were romantic, though part of me wanted them to be, but because they were genuine. They weren't commands, or critiques, or professional assessment. They were acknowledgment.
I found myself stealing glances at him, noticing the way his jaw tensed slightly when thinking, the small movements of his fingers, the calm intensity in his eyes. And I hated how much I noticed.
Because noticing meant wanting.
And wanting Jamal Yusuf, the man I was bound to only by contract, was dangerous.
By the time I returned to my room, my thoughts were a whirlwind. Collin's arrogance, Jamal's subtle care, the charged moments between us, it all collided in my mind, leaving me dizzy and anxious.
I lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, asking myself the question I couldn't answer.
Was it admiration I felt for him? Respect? Or something… more?
I didn't know.
But one thing was certain: every day I spent under the same roof, I was losing control, slowly, irrevocably to a man I wasn't supposed to love.