The penthouse was silent except for the low hum of the city far below. Rain lashed against the floor-to-ceiling windows, turning the Lagos skyline into a blurred watercolor of neon and lightning.
Adaora stood at the glass, wine glass in hand, wearing nothing but the silk robe he’d left for her. The deep burgundy fabric clung to her damp skin from the shower, the tie barely knotted at her waist. She knew he was watching her from the shadows of the living room.
Kayode had been silent since he walked in twenty minutes ago, rain dripping from his tailored black shirt, eyes dark with something dangerous. He’d canceled the dinner meeting the moment he saw her text: I’m waiting. Don’t make me wait long.
Now the tension between them crackled louder than the thunder outside.
“Turn around,” he s
