6

Boma remained silent, thinking she would rather be anywhere than there.

His free finger reached for her cheek, softly caressing it. She resisted the urge to flinch or reject his touch.

"Do you understand me?"

She nodded. "Yes."

He studied her face for a few seconds. She maintained eye contact for those few seconds. At that moment she was lost in the beauty of his eyes. Then she reminded herself that his beauty was just a perfect cover he was blessed with to hide his bad side.

"Tell me something. I mean, tell me the truth, how many boyfriends have you had?"

His question was direct but still plunged her into an ocean of confusion. Why would he want to have such personal information?

As he continued to wait expectantly for her response, she had to answer.

"Many."

She forced a smile. It had been a joke. She didn't even know why she was responding that way. An inner voice told her it was a lame attempt at putting in some confidence. She agreed with the inner voice.

A frown furrowed his brow.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I cannot count."

"Meaning you've been jumping around?"

She couldn't tell if he was taking her seriously. His tone was not cold, just a bit rough.

His eyes remained focused on hers.

She lowered hers.

"You're asking a personal question."

"Yes. Raise those pretty eyes and answer. No joking this time."

She brought her gaze back up to his.

"Why do you think I am joking?" She asked, surprising herself because she was still scared of being in his presence. He was scary.

He smirked at her. "You don't look like that sort of girl."

The smirk disappeared and his daunting look replaced it, keeping her on her toes. When was she not on edge around him anyway?

"Answer the question. I want a number."

"How many girlfriends have you had?"

"You are four, five seconds away from getting a slap. Is that what you want?"

She froze for a few seconds before shaking her head.

"Good. I'm asking the question, not the other way around. Okay?"

She nodded. Then she shook her head almost immediately.

"What was that?"

"No boyfriend."

"Hmm. Since we met, you have been lying to me. I understand your reasons, but I want that to end right now that you're out with one truth. Alright?"

"Okay. But how do you know I am telling the truth?"

"Your naivety the first time I kissed you. Yes, you didn't expect it. You didn't want it. Still, I could tell."

Her eyes fell again.

"Mr. Donovan." She said, realizing she was addressing him formally because of her fear of him.

"You can call me D."

"D." she tested the sound. It resonated with her at once but still did not make him less scary.

He gave a satisfied nod, seemingly pleased with her compliance. "Good. Now, let's continue."

Her eyes dropped to her lap, avoiding his gaze.

"Uh-huh. I want to see your eyes."

She reluctantly met his gaze again, nervous.

"I don't want to be your girlfriend," she said tentatively, afraid of his reaction.

His smirk returned. "You think I don't know that already? See, the thing is, I don't care. The choice isn't yours. This is not up for debate. And please—" His pause caused her a great deal of worry as he took her chin in his hand, pinning her with an austere gaze. "Do not say that again."

Her eyes immediately watered.

"Am I clear?"

She couldn't utter a word, so she nodded and he released her chin.

"What are you going to eat? It's about time we made our order."

She sniffled as her clammy eyes filled and spilled tears. He simply took out a neatly folded handkerchief and dried off her tears. Then he signaled a waiter and without waiting for her opinion, ordered some Chinese fried rice and peppered chicken.

The aroma of the inviting food hit her nostrils and the sight of it called to her taste buds despite her broken and helpless state.

Still, she managed to compose herself. With her student allowance, she could not afford such a decent meal. Maybe once a week, but that would mean, she would have to skip breakfast or dinner or both. Her meal for the month had been calculated. Her budget was thin. This should be a treat for her, but because of her situation, she held back her desire.

He picked up his utensils and began to eat.

She folded her arms across her chest and looked away, indicating her disinterest and unhappiness with the situation he was putting her through.

He noticed her resistant mood and proceeded to finish a couple of bites. Afterward, he set his utensils down, sipped some water, dabbed a serviette over his lips, and neatly tucked it beside his plate.

She observed his table manners briefly with interest. How could a rough bad boy have such table etiquette, she wondered.

She became aware of him looking at her, so she set her gaze on the few other guests and students in the restaurant.

"Boma." She heard him say her name, one sure palm, gentle on her shoulder.

She gave him her attention, but said nothing. Her heartbeat was gradually escalating.

"Start eating. I don’t want to finish before you."

She froze again, recognizing the underlying threat in his words. He returned to his meal. She picked up the spoon, ignoring the other utensils. She didn't know how to eat in that cultured manner.

He paused and looked at her. "What are you doing?"

"I want to eat?" Boma's voice sounded unsure because his question confused her.

"You don't know how to use utensils formally?"

"No." she replied.

Now she understood the reason for his reaction and question. Her informal way of eating was his current concern.

"You will learn. Because you have to know how, should we attend a formal gathering. Alright?"

She wondered if he really planned to take her to such gatherings, but didn't dwell on the thought as he awaited her response. Not that she would mind attending a formal occasion with him. That was the least of her problem compared to his roughness with her.

"Okay," she responded and started eating. She missed this kind of food. She missed it a great deal, so she found herself eating and enjoying it.

She didn't look up from her plate, but just started consuming her meal. And she found she was not doing so out of the fear of him, but because of hunger. And not just hunger, but hunger for good food. Despite her situation, how could she resist the delicacy before her?

When she finished her food, she realized that Donovan had his eyes on her and had paused his eating.

He must have been watching her for a while.

Donovan didn't understand why he liked watching her eat. He just did.

He couldn't wait to find out more about her, at least from her. His guys did some digging and he had the basic knowledge already about her parents and their residence back in town. They lived not too far from his family home. He wondered why he had never set eyes on her before.

She took a sip of water, embarrassed as he studied her.

"Do you want more?" he asked. "I can make another order."

She was full for now and wished she could ask for a takeaway so she could store it in the fridge for the next day. That way, she would save her meal money. The school didn't allow cooking in the hostels.

Sometimes, she and Hilda would make noodles using a boiling ring. Sometimes they would make Quaker oats. Then they would spray enough perfume or air freshener to hide the aroma, especially if the warders or porters were around.

It was the closest thing to a home-cooked meal they could prepare in the hostel. She was aware of other girls doing it. And no one ratted anyone out because almost everyone was guilty of the act.

"Do you want more?" he repeated, tearing through her thoughts.

She politely shook her head. "Thanks." She had to have some dignity. She would look for some side hustle soon, so she would not suffer lack in the school, or start depending on boys like some girls in the school were doing. The wonderful meal she had just consumed was enough to set her in a hustling mode.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Okay," he said and went back to finishing his meal as she continued sipping water from her glass.

A waiter walked over to their table and cleared it after they were done. He left their waters for them, since they were still drinking.

"Thanks," Boma said to Donovan. At this point she was grateful for the meal.

"You're welcome," he replied. "Now, let's move onto romance business." He signaled one of his guys who reached into a backpack and brought a sheet of folded paper to him.

Without opening the note, he handed it over to her. "Go through it.” He instructed. “I may leave one or two things out, hence the note is better. If you have any questions, feel free to ask." He sat back and casually sipped his water. He absently switched between observing her and messing with his phone as she went through the note.

Boma was not too shocked that the note contained the rules he wanted her to follow. He had mentioned it over the phone, so she was somewhat mentally prepared for that. Still, her heartbeat raced with nerves as she took in his rules with her eyes.

They read:

Lateness is not allowed. (Example: lateness to dates or meet-ups).

No skipping of class without a genuine reason. Academics is your sole purpose here.

Maintain a C.G.P.A of no less than 3 points. I'm a four-pointer. My girl must be above average.

She lifted her eyes and stole a fearful look at him as he typed something into his phone. For Heaven's sake, she was an average student, maybe even less than average, hence she was happy with a pass. God, she was in trouble.

"If you're not done, keep reading," he told her without lifting his gaze from his phone, and she returned to taking in his dreadful rules.