Chapter 9 - The Surulere Gala
Six months later, the rainy season had returned to Lagos, the heavy tropical downpours turning the city’s streets into slick, reflective mirrors that caught the neon lights of the mainland. But inside the newly built Clara Pavillion at Surulere Primary School, the atmosphere was completely dry, warm, and filled with the sound of laughter.
It wasn't a corporate event for Victoria Island investors. It was the first annual Surulere Community Book Fair.
The room was decorated with simple, beautiful paper lanterns made by the children, the concrete walls covered in colorful murals of African folk tales. The tables were piled high with thousands of new books, and the street vendors from outside had been invited inside, providing warm bean cakes, spicy meat pies, and cold ginger drinks to hundreds of local families.
Adanna stood near the central display, wearing a magnificent, custom-made gown of midnight blue lace that fit her perfectly, her dark hair styled into an elegant crown of braids. She didn't look out of place anymore; she looked like the queen of her own kingdom.
Chief Balogun stood beside her, a glass of palm wine in his hand, looking around the crowded room with a rare, genuine smile. “You did well, Director Okoro. This is the first time in twenty years I’ve seen an educational grant turn into a real community celebration within six months. The board is very impressed.”
“Thank you, Chief,” Adanna said, her voice steady and beautiful. “The children did the real work. They just needed the space to do it.”
A large, familiar hand slipped around her waist from behind, pulling her gently against a broad chest that radiated a constant, protective heat.
I looked up into Chijioke Eze’s dark eyes. He wasn't wearing his executive native attire or his grey linen outfit; he wore a sharp, tailored black tuxedo that made him look like the most handsome man in Nigeria, but the look in his eyes when he looked at her was entirely soft, entirely devoted.
“The London office just called,” Chijioke whispered against her ear, his thumb brushing against her hip. “They want to know if the Foundation director is available for a literacy summit next month at Oxford.”
May you like
Adanna laughed, her fingers tangling in his silk lapels as she turned in his arms. “Tell London they have to wait until the term exams are finished, Chijioke. My fifteen five-year-olds come first.”
Chijioke smiled, a rare, breathtaking expression that erased the years of corporate coldness from his rugged features. He leaned down, his lips brushing against hers in a slow, deep, and fiercely possessive kiss that sealed their partnership in front of the entire community.
