Days passed, and the tension between them grew, not because of any lack of desire, but because of the world they inhabited. Every glance, every touch, felt like a stolen moment—a fleeting glimpse of something pure and impossible in a place that thrived on secrecy and power.
The political games of 122 Series were relentless. Bamidele’s name was being whispered in the corridors of power, as was Jumoke’s. The two families they came from were locked in a centuries-old rivalry, and both were waiting for the other to make a move. Yet neither Bamidele nor Jumoke could step away from what was happening between them. They were bound by something deeper than mere attraction.
One evening, as the estate was cloaked in darkness, Jumoke found herself standing in the grand hall, preparing to attend a gathering that Bamidele’s family had orchestrated. It was a formal affair, one that was meant to keep up appearances, yet she knew that beneath the surface, it was a battlefield. Bamidele had warned her—there would be eyes on them. There would be subtle gestures and unspoken words meant to sway them, to pull them apart.
As she adjusted the delicate earrings her mother had given her, the soft sound of footsteps behind her alerted her to Bamidele’s presence. He was standing in the doorway, his gaze intense, but there was something else in his eyes—something deeper, something worried.
“Jumoke,” he said softly, stepping into the room, his presence as commanding as ever. “You need to be careful tonight.”
She turned to face him, her heart beating faster at the sight of him in his formal attire—dark and brooding, every inch the heir to a legacy of power. “I know. But I’m not afraid, Bamidele. We can’t keep running from this. From us.”
If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.
He stepped closer, his fingers brushing lightly against hers. The touch was almost imperceptible, but it was enough to send a rush of heat through her. “I don’t want to run. But if we’re not careful, we could lose everything—each other, our families, everything we’ve worked for.”
Jumoke tilted her head, meeting his gaze. “Then we’ll fight for it. Whatever it takes.”
Bamidele’s jaw clenched, the tension palpable. “I’ll fight for you, Jumoke. But there are forces far more powerful than either of us. You don’t understand the danger we’re in.”
Before she could respond, a voice interrupted their moment—a cold, sharp voice that cut through the air like a blade.
“Well, well, what do we have here?”
Both Jumoke and Bamidele turned to face the newcomer. It was Femi, Bamidele’s cousin, a man with a reputation for cruelty and manipulation. His sharp eyes flicked between the two of them, and there was something in his smile—something mocking, yet knowing—that made Jumoke’s stomach twist.
“You two should be careful,” Femi said, his voice dripping with malicious amusement. “The walls have ears in 122 Series. And rumours, well, they spread faster than fire.”
Jumoke’s pulse quickened as Femi’s words sank in. He knew. He had to know. But how much did he know? And more importantly, who else was watching them?
“Stay out of it, Femi,” Bamidele said, his tone cold, his eyes narrowed. “You’ve already caused enough trouble.”
Femi’s smile widened. “Oh, I’m not causing trouble. I’m just looking out for my family’s interests. And it seems that those interests might not align with yours, cousin.”
As Femi turned and walked away, Jumoke’s heart pounded in her chest. She knew that the game they were playing was no longer just about love. It was about survival.