CHAPTER FOUR

The eruption of sound in the ballroom below was deafening, a volatile mix of applause, shocked gasps, and the furious click of high end camera shutters. Mimi felt William’s hand tighten on her waist, a proprietary, guiding touch that was entirely public, entirely fake, and entirely necessary to sell the lie. She held the flawless, beaming smile until her cheeks ached, her entire being focused on holding the professional pose she was being paid millions to maintain.

Keep smiling, William murmured close to her ear, his voice low and cold, utterly devoid of the passion he had just demonstrated for the cameras. Look only at the reporters directly in front of you. Do not look at my mother. Do not look at Ethan. You are ecstatic. You are mine. Now let’s get out of this fire.

He didn’t wait for her to respond. He spun her around, tucking her securely against his side as the security detail immediately formed a tight cordon around them. The next ten minutes were a terrifying, exhilarating blur of flashing lights and shouts. Reporters were screaming questions, friends and family members were surging forward, their faces contorted with a mixture of confusion and forced congratulations. Mimi saw Mrs. Evelyn Williams, William’s mother, standing rigidly near the head table, her face a mask of frozen shock that was more frightening than any outright anger. That image cemented the severity of the contract. Mimi was not just lying to the public, she was lying to the most powerful family in Lagos.

William managed the escape with brutal efficiency. He moved her like a prized asset, his arm a steel band around her, murmuring brief, ambiguous answers to the most persistent reporters. He paused just long enough to kiss her hand, flashing the diamond ring, giving the cameras one final, perfect shot of the ecstatic couple. Then they were moving, rushed through a side door and down a private staircase, leaving the pandemonium of the engagement party behind.

They were hustled into the waiting black sedan. The moment the soundproof door clicked shut, the performance ended abruptly.

Mimi slumped against the leather seat, letting the manufactured smile finally drop. Her face felt numb, her jaw tight from the effort. William didn’t look at her. He simply ran a tired hand over his face, breathing deeply, as if shedding an invisible layer of suffocating pressure. The silence of the car was heavy, charged with the immense, impossible nature of the lie they had just created.

We survived the immediate blast, William stated, his eyes fixed on the tinted window as the car sped through the humid Lagos night. His voice was clinical, detached. The story is out. The public bought the narrative of the secret, intense courtship. You performed flawlessly, Mimi. You earned your first instalment.

Mimi felt a flicker of heat in her chest, a mix of pride at the professional compliment and resentment at the coldness of the transaction. It was a performance, Mr. Williams. That’s what I was hired for. And what about your mother. She looked ready to call the family lawyers.

My mother is a problem, but a manageable one, William said, turning slightly to look at her, the interior lights catching the calculating look in his dark eyes. She will be angry, but she won’t risk a public scandal that hurts the family name. She will accept you for the next month, then she will manage the fallout later. We will face her together, professionally.

He didn’t mention the fifteen million naira, but the diamond on her finger felt like a constant, cold reminder of the wealth she now commanded. The money was real. The relationship was not.

They soon arrived at his penthouse. The residence was a towering monument to modernist luxury, all clean lines, glass, and intimidating silence. It was spacious, impersonal, and felt more like a museum than a home. It was the absolute antithesis of the small, noisy, lived in apartment she had left behind.

William led her through the vast living area, his movements precise and purposeful. He walked with the effortless authority of a man who owned everything he surveyed.

This is where you will be staying for the next month, William announced, gesturing to the sprawling space. The security is absolute. No one gets in or out without my permission. This is essential for maintaining the integrity of the contract. The world must not know you are still the waitress from Emberwood. You are now the wealthy, reserved fiancée. The security team will be instructed that you are to be treated as Mrs. Williams.

He stopped in the corridor leading to the master suite. The air grew thicker, the intimacy of the location unavoidable.

The living arrangement needs to be clear, William continued, his voice dropping slightly, becoming serious and intensely businesslike. We share the master suite for appearances. The press and the family must believe we are living as an engaged couple. There is a secondary dressing room and a small, private study adjoining the main bedroom. You will use that space as your private area.

He led her into the massive, elegant bedroom, dominated by a king sized bed that felt absurdly large for a single person. He walked straight past it and opened a separate door leading into a small, well appointed sitting area with a velvet chaise lounge and floor to ceiling bookshelves.

This will be your actual sleeping area tonight, William said, his eyes conveying a clear, firm boundary. We maintain zero physical contact. We are partners in a professional agreement. There is no friendship, no affection, and certainly no intimacy. When we are alone, we are two individuals executing a contract. When we are public, you are the loving fiancée, and I am the besotted groom. Understood.

Mimi looked around the small, but luxurious space. It was not a bed, but it was safe. It was clean. It was private. She had fifteen million naira coming her way. She had to swallow the small, sharp sting of his explicit rejection of any personal connection.

Perfectly understood, Mr. Williams, Mimi responded, matching his formal, detached tone perfectly. I will not require a second reminder of the boundaries. I am here to execute a contract, nothing more. My goal is professional excellence. Your privacy is protected.

William seemed slightly surprised by her complete composure. He had expected some hesitation, some lingering awkwardness from the public kiss, but she had reset to her professional self instantly. The firecracker was back under control.

Good, he said, giving a curt nod. “We have a packed schedule tomorrow. Press interviews are scheduled in the afternoon, followed by a dinner with my father. You will need to rest. I will have a dedicated personal assistant assigned to you tomorrow morning, Mrs. Ade. She will manage your wardrobe and public image. Do not speak to the household staff. Do not give them any information about your life before this evening.

He turned to leave the suite, then hesitated by the door, turning back to face her. He saw the genuine exhaustion in her eyes, the sheer weight of the performance she had just given. He had to give her credit. She was tough.

The contract documents will be signed tomorrow, first thing in the morning, after the legal team finalizes the terms, William added, a final piece of reassurance. Your funds will be transferred immediately upon signing. Sleep well, Mimi.

With that, he walked out, closing the door softly behind him. Mimi was alone in the vast, intimidating luxury of the penthouse. She walked into the private study, the room William had designated as her space. She sat down on the chaise lounge, slowly slipping the massive diamond engagement ring off her finger. It pulsed in the ambient light, cold and dazzling. It was the heaviest thing she had ever held, the weight of fifteen million naira and the crushing burden of a month of lies.

She thought about her tiny, cluttered apartment, the worn furniture, the noisy street outside, and the fear of the rent being due. That life was ending now. She had sold a month of her integrity for a lifetime of financial peace. It was a cold, hard bargain, but she wouldn’t regret it. She couldn’t afford regret.

Meanwhile, William walked into the main living area, poured himself a rare, dark scotch, and stood by the floor to ceiling window, staring out at the vibrant, sleepless city. The silence of the penthouse was deafening. He had saved his reputation, secured his immediate future, and solved his crisis with brutal efficiency. But the image of Mimi's composed, distant face kept returning to him. He was a man of precise calculation, yet he had paid fifteen million naira for a woman he knew absolutely nothing about, a woman whose fierce independence was already a threat to his absolute control. He had bought a solution, but he felt a strange, profound sense of loss, a loss of the quiet control he once took for granted. He knew, with a certainty that chilled him more than the cold silence of his apartment, that this contract was far more dangerous than any business deal he had ever negotiated. He had brought the firecracker into his

perfect, flammable world.