Oliver
Constantino shook his head at his wife, Kema striding up to the double glass
doors of the International Conference Centre ahead of him. He had been
deliberately lagging behind, waiting for the right moment to slow her down and
to try once more to convince her to sit this one out.
But
instead, she was marching forward, eyes straight, honey-blond Mohawk haircut as
fierce as ever.
She
passed the flag stand bearing aloft the Nigerian Green-White-Green flag and
approached the main entrance.
His
eyes narrowed as his gaze descended to her tiny waist and further down to her
enticing, heart-attack-inducing wide hips that her burgundy jumpsuit just
couldn’t conceal no matter how hard it tried.
He
felt an answering throb in his groin. Damn.
As anxious as he was for her, his body couldn’t resist the swing of those hips.
Forcing
his eyes off her backside, he swallowed air. Damn. This was serious. There was
a suicide bomber somewhere in this building, intent on blowing them all to
paradise. And all she wanted to do was to charge in there and find the bomber.
Didn’t she understand how serious this was? She could get killed. Hundreds of
people could get killed.
He
didn’t care about himself. His business was a dangerous one and almost every
day he put his life at risk but her life was the most precious thing in the
world to him. He couldn’t lose her. No. Never.
They
arrived at the doors.
Kema
halted, raising her eyes to Oliver. At five-two, she usually found herself
glancing up at her six-two husband.
A
second later, he reached her, lips curled.
Kema
rolled her eyes. She could guess what his problem was. He didn’t want her to
work this investigation. Well, he couldn’t stop her. She was also a trained
security agent, although maybe not as well-trained as he, but still.
Grabbing
his rock-hard upper arm, she flashed him a smile. “Stop frowning, baby. We’re
here. I’m not leaving.”
“Baby,
I know you want to help, but this is a bomb… a bomb.” Oliver said, his forehead creasing.
“I
know it’s a bomb, of course! But I also know that we’ll find the bomber in
time, defuse the situation and be able to relax and watch Wumi sashay down the
catwalk.”
“Well,
I hope so.”
She
stared at him. Gosh, she loved this man. He was her first lover and would be
her last. She had waited until three years ago when she was thirty years old to
have sex for the first time and it had been worth it, with Oliver.
It
sometimes still felt unreal. She had thought she would end up with her ex
boyfriend, Ikenna until she came face to face with this dapper, extremely
handsome Italian-American guy and her whole world turned upside down.
He
looked good enough to eat in another of his smart bespoke black suits, with a
black shirt, dark-blue tie and a dark-blue pocket square visible in the front
pocket of his jacket. He wore his black hair brushed back from his forehead and
his beautiful hunter-green eyes peeked out from under his long lashes.
They
had been married for nearly three years, working together in his company for
roughly the same time. To think she had almost walked out on him when she discovered
what he had done in South Africa to those young men. Yes, those men hadn’t been
innocents. They had raped and killed a girl, yes. Some would say they deserved
what they got.
But
she had chosen to stand by Oliver, although, on some rare occasions, she still
found it hard to swallow what Oliver and Steven had done to those young
rapists.
But
she had pushed such thoughts deep, deep inside her, where no light could reach
because she knew that despite his faults, Oliver was a good man.
He was a wonderful husband, loving, generous,
patient. He was a great father to his ten year old daughter, Lisa he had with
his ex-girlfriend, Amy.Share this post on social media if you enjoyed it.
Learn about the heroes and heroines in the Character Profile page
The Unhinged Book Series; Book 1, 2, and 3 will be out this 2016. Find out more at the Unhinged Books page
