I hated having a shadow.
My name is Amina, twenty-four years old, and the only daughter of one of the biggest oil traders in Port Harcourt. That means big houses, fancy cars, and zero freedom. My father always said the city was too dangerous for a girl like me. So he hired bodyguards like they were accessories.
The latest one arrived on a hot Tuesday evening. Rufus.
He stood in the living room of our mansion in Old GRA like he owned the place, even though he was just the new help. Tall—well over six feet—broad shoulders that stretched his black shirt tight across his chest. His arms were thick with muscle, veins running down like ropes. Dark skin, close-cropped hair, and a jaw so sharp it could cut glass. His eyes were deep brown, almost black, and they looked at everything like they we
