First-Person (Dara)
If someone had told me that one clumsy moment would flip my entire life upside down, I would have laughed, eaten suya, and moved on with my day.
But there I was heels shaking, dress borrowed, confidence on life support, and standing at the entrance of the Oasis Grand Gala, the kind of event where even the waiters looked like they had trust funds.
I was only there because HR said all staff "volunteering" would get free food.
Volunteer is a strong word. Hunger forced me.
The ballroom looked like a scene stolen from a Netflix movie chandeliers dripping light, violins humming like they had emotional problems, rich people pretending they were born allergic to suffering.
And in the center of it all was him.
Kamsi Okwara.
My boss.
My temporary-boss-because-I'm-a-contract-staff.
BlackShield Holdings CEO.
The man whose presence made even the chandeliers stand at attention.
Tall.
Sharp jawline.
Tailored suit that probably cost more than my entire contract pay.
And eyes that said, "I don't do nonsense."
I didn't come here for him.
But life has a PhD in disrespect.
The moment our eyes met across the room, I felt something shift like the air paused, like Lagos traffic suddenly cleared.
I should have pretended I didn't see him.
But my life mission is apparently to embarrass myself.
I turned to walk away but my heel caught on the edge of the carpet—my entire existence tilted forward and I was two seconds away from face-planting on the marble floor.
Except…
Strong hands caught my waist.
Warm.
Steady.
Electric.
I looked up and found myself staring directly into the eyes of the devil's fine cousin.
"Kamsi," I breathed before I could stop myself.
His grip tightened slightly, steadying me.
"Careful," he said, voice deep enough to make my knees consider resignation.
"These events are dangerous for people who don't look where they're going."
"Wow," I managed. "Thank you… I think?"
He almost smiled.
Almost.
Which for Kamsi was basically a national miracle.
Before I could reassemble my dignity, a camera flashed somewhere behind us.
Then another.
And another.
Kamsi still hadn't let go of my waist.
"Um…" I whispered. "People are looking."
"They always look," he said casually, releasing me too slowly for my heartbeat's comfort.
I straightened, re-flattened the front of my borrowed dress, and tried to flee before Lagos Internet decided to make a meme out of me.
But fate—very disrespectful fate—had other plans.
The next morning, I woke up to twenty-seven missed calls, nineteen messages, and my junior sister screaming from the living room:
"DAAAARA! YOU'RE ENGAGED TO A BILLIONAIRE!"
I raced out of my room, snatched her phone, and nearly fainted.
There I was.
On the front page of multiple blogs.
My hand in his.
His eyes on mine.
Me looking like a confused Cinderella who stumbled into a billionaire's spell.
"BLACKSHIELD CEO PROPOSES TO MYSTERY WOMAN DURING GALA."
Proposes?
To who?
To where?
How?
My life was not lifing.
I was still screaming internally by the time I reached the office. People whispered. HR stared at me like I was an unplanned pregnancy.
When I stepped into Kamsi's office, he was sitting behind his glass desk like a man who swallowed the entire Lagos skyline for breakfast.
He didn't even look up when he said, "Close the door, Dara."
My heart sprinted a marathon.
His iPad slid across the table toward me.
The headline mocked me again.
I swallowed hard. "Sir, this is a mistake. I only tripped."
"Yes."
"And you only helped me."
"Yes."
"So why—what—how—why aren't you denying this?!"
Finally, he looked at me.
Dark eyes.
Calm.
Too calm.
"Because correcting it now would ruin a deal I've been building for two years."
I blinked. "Sir, with all due respect, how is my unfortunate trip your business strategy?"
He leaned back, steepling his fingers.
"Shareholders want a stable CEO. A man settling down. Someone reliable. Someone with a future."
"And you picked me? Me? Out of the entire Lagos population?"
"You happened," he said simply.
My heart stopped.
Restarted.
Changed networks.
"I need you to pretend to be my fiancée for one month."
My brain: ERROR 404.
My mouth: "Sorry WHAT?"
My soul: "Accept it, sis!"
"You'll be compensated generously," he continued, as if this was normal.
"As long as we maintain the illusion until the merger is secured."
"An illusion," I repeated. "So… fake engagement?"
"Yes."
"No romance?"
"No."
"No touching?"
He raised a brow.
The dangerous kind.
"That part… may depend on the situation."
My stomach somersaulted like it was in the Olympics.
This was insane.
Impossible.
Ridiculous.
But then I thought of Mum's medical bills.
My unpaid rent.
The way life keeps punching from behind.
So I did the brave, stupid, brave thing.
"I'll do it," I whispered.
He stood.
Extended his hand.
I put mine in his.
A spark tore through me so violently I nearly jumped.
He noticed.
He definitely noticed.
"Welcome to the engagement, Dara," he said softly.
Whether it was a greeting or a warning, I still don't know.
All I know is that the moment our hands met, my entire life changed its destination without informing me.
KAMSI'S POV
They say CEOs must learn to predict risk.
What they don't tell you is that the greatest risks rarely come from billion-naira decisions.
Sometimes, they walk into your life wearing a dress…
and fall directly into your arms.
I saw Dara before she saw me.
She had that look I've learned to recognize in junior staff
a mix of timid courage and exhausted hope.
The type of look Lagos puts on people who still believe life might be kind someday.
I admired that more than I should have.
But I looked away.
I didn't come to the gala for distractions.
I came because the board needed to see a controlled, composed, marriageable CEO.
A man with stability.
A man who could secure the future of BlackShield Holdings.
Everything depended on perception.
Everything depended… on me.
But fate apparently has no respect for my business strategy.
Because the moment I turned again, she tripped.
Not just a simple stumble
a complete, dramatic, gravity-is-an-enemy fall.
I moved without thinking.
My hands locked around her waist, warm and soft under my fingers.
And just like that… she was in my arms.
Her eyes lifted to mine.
Wide.
Brown.
Alive in a way the world around us wasn't.
I forgot the cameras.
Forgot the shareholders.
Forgot the performance.
For two seconds
just two
I held her tighter than necessary.
The flash of a camera snapped me back to reality.
I released her slowly, making sure she found her footing.
I told myself it was only for professionalism.
It wasn't.
When she walked away, I felt something absurdly close to disappointment.
The next morning, my office became a war room.
The board called.
Investors panicked.
Blogs exploded.
One headline repeated itself across my screen:
"BlackShield CEO Proposes to Mystery Woman."
I should have denied it immediately.
I should've scheduled a press release.
I should've done a hundred things
But I didn't.
Because the board, for the first time in months, looked… pleased.
Hopeful.
Eager.
The engagement rumor made me look stable.
Grounded.
Human.
It made the merger negotiations tip in my favor.
And the woman in the photograph?
Dara.
Soft-spoken Dara from the admin department.
Unexpected.
Unpolished.
Uninterested in my wealth.
Which made her… believable.
Which made her dangerous.
When she walked into my office that morning, her confusion was genuine.
Her anger was honest.
Her fear was raw enough that I almost shut down the entire deception.
Almost.
But I couldn't afford to lose the merger.
Not when I'd fought for two years to secure it.
Not when BlackShield needed it.
And so I said the words I knew would trap both of us:
"I need you to pretend to be my fiancée."
Her shock was refreshing.
Most women would have fainted from excitement.
She nearly fainted from outrage.
Then came the question I wasn't prepared for.
"Why me?"
I could have said a dozen business-related things.
She was convenient.
She was available.
She was unexpected enough to shock the media.
But none of those were true.
The truth was simple, embarrassing, and far too intimate:
Because when she looks at me…
she doesn't see a billionaire.
She sees a man.
So I told her the closest thing to honesty I could allow:
"You happened ."
Her eyes softened.
Her shoulders loosened.
In that moment, I felt it
a spark of connection I had no right to feel.
She hesitated for a long time.
Weighing poverty against pride.
Fear against necessity.
Then she gave her answer.
"I'll do it."
I stood, extended my hand.
She placed hers in mine.
A jolt — sharp, electric — shot through my palm.
She felt it too.
Her breath hitched.
Her fingers trembled.
I told myself it was static.
Nonsense.
A fluke of physics.
But as she pulled her hand back slowly,
as if something in that touch scared her…
I knew the truth:
The real risk tonight wasn't the merger.
It wasn't the board.
It wasn't the media.
It was her.
And I, Kamsi Okwara, a man who built an empire with logic and precision…
had just stepped willingly into emotional chaos.