Must Date The Chef

|| 33.

I wait and wait until I forget the meaning of the word. The niqab comes off first, sweat stick to my forehead, I use it to mop my face dry and rub my palms on my knees. It feels like hours since I last saw Mike, I am not sure what to think about his disappearance but I don't want to stress my already tired self with negative thoughts. He is fine. My eyes take this opportunity to scan the room. It is smaller. Everything here is a replica of the things in the old room except for the addition of a desk propped against the wall.

The double windows are closed, or so I think until I walk towards it to push it open. A gust of air sweeps in, I suck in a sharp breath and stagger away from the window after closing it. I have always suspected we are in a tall building but I didn't expect it to be this huge or look to be falling apart. Rods stick out of the uncompleted house, we are so high up, the ground seems miles away.

Tucking my hands between my laps, my feet drum into the floor as our conversation tries to replay itself in my head. I don't want to think about him or the things he said.

He might have known Papa Nnukwu, a name the children at the orphanage liked to call daddy but it doesn't change how I feel about him. The name translates to big daddy, he was everyone's daddy, mine and apparently, Mike's. I scoff, hell will break loose before I accept that. Being raised in the orphanage doesn't automatically make my father his, he's sorely mistaken. Daddy didn't raise criminals, he raised kind, strong, independent women and men. Mike is a coward, a weakling and a spineless bastard who chose to take the route of crime.

Feeling restless I make the split decision to unlock the door at the same time the knob turns and a familiar figure walks in. My relief transforms to fear as his face lights up in an evil smile and my head starts shaking. No. I can't deal with any more surprises.

"What are you doing here?" I manage to ask, unable to tear my eyes away from him.

"Surprise, surprise," he says, edging close to me and my teeth sink into my lower lip until it starts bleeding. I wince. Dragging the only available chair by its hind legs to place in front of me, he sits on it with his chin propped on his folded arms resting on the top rail. "Boss. Are you happy to see me?"

His question takes minutes to settle in, I stare at him as if to understand this recent development. The smirk on his face irritates me, the slight tilt of his head as he watches me rise to my feet with my hand stretched out to suffocate him irks me to no end. He starts chuckling, I scoff. I want to strangle him, I want to kill him. I treated him the best I could and this is what I get in return?

Dread settles over me. "How could you?"

The gun pointed at my forehead stops me in my track, I gulp. My heart starts galloping, I can feel a panic attack coming and I try not to focus on the present. Mike is not here to guide me through this and it's obvious this psycho will love to have fun at my expense.

"Sit," he commands and my butt lowers to the bed without my eyes leaving the gun. He can put it away now. "How could I not?"

Switching positions from the chair to the desk at the corner, he crosses his legs and waves the gun at me like it doesn't have the power to end my life. I squeeze my knees, unable to wrap my head around the fact he is the one behind my predicament. My eyes open slowly, I blink and shake my head but he doesn't vanish, he keeps standing there.

What sort of ill-luck do I have? Why can't I catch a break? Where did I go wrong?

"I don't understand," I mutter. "How?"

Our eyes clash, he flashes me a grin and I look away, unable to maintain his hateful, menacing glare. We stay in awkward, suffocating silence with our thoughts for company until he decides it's time to speak.