In Love with a Billionaire

“Cheers to a new life!” Jennifer Iloh squeals and clinks her wine glass against mine.

“Cheers to a new life,” I repeat with a wide grin that belied my inner unease. I’m excited to be finally free of my 9-year marriage that recently turned into a nightmare. It feels good to be single again, but I can’t shake the feeling of uncertainty that holds my belly in a knot whenever I realize that I am now a single mom of 8-year-old twins who still doesn’t understand why their daddy can’t live with us anymore.

I am sitting with my four best friends in a classy restaurant, enjoying drinks and celebrating my “freedom” after my divorce from my ex-husband, Segun Folawe is officially finalized. These ladies have been my inner circle pals since we became friends in the university over a decade ago.

“Welcome to the corner of the singles,” Jennifer continues with a giggle. She is also divorced, runs a successful fashion business, and takes great care of her toddler daughter single-handedly since her ex-husband ran off to another continent with his colleague with who he had been cheating on Jennifer since the beginning of their 4-year marriage.

“I envy you two,” Halima Sanni gushes unabashedly and sips her drink. “I always fantasize about leaving Ahmad,” she confesses.

“Are you kidding?” I ask her, genuinely surprised. “I thought you and Ahmad are happy together?”

“I thought the same too,” Deola Martins echoes. She’s a single lady living her best life, dating whomever she wanted, while making a tidy salary from her customer service job with Mitel Network.

“Yes, we are happy,” Halima admits. “But sometimes, I wonder what it would be like to be single again and be free to date anyone I wanted to date, you know. Like you guys.”

I immediately understand what Halima means. Just like me, she married the first real boyfriend she ever dated and now she was a full-time housewife to a wealthy business tycoon who placed her on a generous monthly salary, made sure all her needs are met, and insisted that she stay at home to care for their 5-year-old triplets. It doesn’t matter that they had an army of nannies and domestic staff to tend to the children and the household, Ahmad simply did not want her to work.

“And that is exactly why you shouldn’t have allowed Ahmad talk you into quitting your law career to sit at home like some illiterate, primitive woman,” Deola said bitingly. “This is the 21st century for goodness sake!”

“Are you kidding?” Najite Oviemo asks Deola. “If Darlington and I get married today and he agrees to fund my account every month unfailingly, as long as I don’t lift a finger to work, you think I’ll say no? Babe, best believe I’ll jump on that offer and sit my skinny behind at home!”

We all laugh at Najite’s dramatic reaction. She and her fiancé have been engaged for nearly two years now, and while she is eager to get married to him and become Mrs.. Okoro, Darlington on the other hand wasn’t in a hurry to tie the knot with her just yet. His car dealership business was booming these days and he wants to be 100% hands-on in running the business.

“Why would I want to continue with my stressful retail banking job when I can sit at home all day, binge-watch Netflix, buy whatever I want, and just be pretty for my husband?” Najite continues. “That’s my dream life.”

Halima smiles. “It sounds like fun, but it gets boring eventually. It’s moments like these with you girls that keep me sane and in touch with the outside world.”

“Maybe you should broach the subject of going back to work with him again,” Deola suggests. “He might change his stance and let you work again.”

“I doubt it,” Halima said. “Anyway, today isn’t about me. It’s about our lovely Uzezi Folawe here. Congratulations once again, darling. Happiness looks good on you.”

I smile and feel little bits of my apprehension ebbing away. “Thanks, girls,” I say. “If it wasn’t for you all, I wouldn’t have made the bold move to leave Segun. I am so thankful for your support.”

“Aww… what are friends for?” Jennifer asks.

We continue drinking and chatting light-heartedly about work and upcoming events within our families when my mind zones out for a bit. I catch myself wondering how to carry on with my life with this new normal. As I continue to brood about my life, my eyes land on a man sitting at a table across from ours. He is formally dressed in a suit and tie and appears to be having a business meeting with the fellow sitting in front of him, whose back is turned towards me.

As if sensing that someone is looking at him, the man looks up and his eyes meet mine. We hold each other’s gaze for a full 10 seconds before I realize what I am doing and look away. I feel embarrassed to have been caught staring, so I pick up my wine glass and finish its content, just to give me something to do. I know the man is still staring at me, but I dare not look in his direction again. That would be way too awkward.

“Our meals should be ready by now. I’m famished!” Najite groans.

“I’m sure they’ll bring them over in a few minutes,” Halima reassures her. “Besides, you’ve been drinking. You shouldn’t be so hungry.”

“And that’s exactly the problem. Drinking makes me hungry,” Najite complains.

“Be patient,” I tell her with a laugh. “Meanwhile, excuse me, ladies, I need to visit the restroom,” I say and get on my feet.

In truth, I don’t need to use the restroom, I just want to get away from the man across the room who I know is still looking at me. I may be exaggerating but having his eyes on me for so long is making me uncomfortable. I need my composure intact to enjoy the rest of my party.

The ladies’ room was empty when I get in, and since I am not really pressed, I decide to touch up my makeup before returning to the table to rejoin my friends. I look at my reflection in the mirror and my round face stares back at me. Cute has always been the word that people describe me with, thanks to my full cheeks, Barbie eyes, small nose, and pouty lips on a petite 5ft 4inches frame.

For the longest time, “Baby” was my nickname because of my cherubic looks but I finally outgrew that moniker in university, when I shed a little weight and looked more ladylike. That was when I met my ex-husband. Segun was my real first boyfriend and he swept me off my feet with his compliments and his admiration for my academic intelligence. He was my dream man; tall, dark, ruggedly handsome and had a great sense of humor. It only seemed natural that we get married after graduation and that was exactly what we did.

Someone walks into the restroom, jolting me out of my daydream. I smile at her through the mirror, and she smiles back and says, “Hi,” before disappearing into one of the empty toilet stalls behind me. I powder my face lightly, then apply a thin layer of lip-gloss on my lips before finally stepping out of the restroom. As I make my way towards the lobby leading to the restaurant floor, I see the man from across the room approaching me. For a split second, my heartbeat skips, and I feel my stomach tie itself into a knot.

“I was hoping I’d run into you,” he says. His voice is a deep baritone that seems out of place for his lean frame. It’s the kind of voice you would expect from a heavyset man, not an athletic young man. He looks familiar, but I’m sure I have never met him before.

I look around me to check if he is speaking to someone beside or behind me, but it is just me and him in the lobby.

“Are you talking to me?” I ask him.

“Of course,” he replies with a charming smile. “It’s just the two of us here.”

Obviously! Duh.

Running into the very person I am trying to get away from may be creepy, but this man is handsome – no, gorgeous. His dark brown skin glowed with health; his facial features are perfectly defined with such an impressive bone structure like that of a model. He continues to smile at me with straight teeth that are whiter than white, and full luscious, moisturized lips. This is a man who clearly looks after himself, plus, he smelled like new money – like freshly printed cash, straight out of the mint.

“Do I know you?” I ask, squinting a little in concentration. There’s no way I would have met someone like this before and not remember him.

“If you’re asking, it means you don’t,” he says, his bright smile still intact. “I find it very refreshing when I meet people who don’t recognize me because it allows me to make a good first impression. My name is Dominic Inyang. Everyone calls me Dom.”

He extends his right hand toward for me to shake. I shrug internally and accept the handshake. “Uzezi Folawe,” I reply.

His hand is soft, but his grip is firm. Something about his touch makes my body grow warm and the sensation confuses me. I try to retrieve my hand, but he’s not ready to let go of it just yet.

“Pleased to meet you, Miss or Mrs.. Folawe?”

“Miss,” I reply with a smile. It feels odd referring to myself as a Miss. I’ve been a Mrs.. for nearly a decade, so this new title will take some getting used to. “You can call me Uzezi,” I add.

“Great,” he says and finally releases my hand. “You seemed to be deep in thought when our eyes met back in there. Everything ok?”

I smile at him and say, “Of course.” There’s no way I’m giving a total stranger any information about my personal life. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to my friends.”

“I didn’t mean to be nosy,” he says quickly as if reading my thought. “I just didn’t want you to think that I was some kind of creep, staring at you out there like that. For some reason, I just couldn’t look away.”

I’m not all that, I think and roll my eyes internally. I may be cute, but I’m not knock-em-dead beautiful like Jennifer or Deola. Those are the women who make men stop in their tracks and gawk because of their beauty. I’m not in that category.

“It’s ok,” I say, trying to reassure him. “I don’t think you are a creep. It was nice meeting you though. Enjoy the rest of your day.”

I begin to walk past him, but I trip on a low step and nearly fell face down, save for Dominic reaching out just in time to catch me. He holds me around my mid-section, pulling me back on my feet.

“Are you ok?” He asks. His face is close to mine as he looks into my eyes to see if I am alright.

At this point, I’m speechless. I used to think Segun was the finest man I have ever laid eyes on, but his handsomeness paled in comparison to Dominic’s. My eyes stroll down his face until they land on his wide, firm lips. On impulse, I lean forward and press my lips against his. If my action surprises him, he doesn’t show it because he remains still for a few seconds before parting his lips to give me access, and I do not hesitate to accept the invitation. He let me set the pace and I kiss him ever so slowly, exactly the way I have always imagined I would kiss – wait, what?

I break the kiss immediately and push Dominic off, as my sanity returns to me. What on earth was I doing? With a strange man for that matter?

“I – I’m sorry,” I stutter as I try to regain my composure. I am so embarrassed; I can’t even look at his face. What will he think of me? Why did I even kiss him? What is wrong with me?

“You don’t have to apologize,” he says with that charming smile of his.

“Oh my gosh, is that Dom Inyang?” Someone squeals behind me. I turn around and see the lady from the restroom, staring at Dominic with eyes that are so huge, it seems like they might fall out of her head.

“Guilty,” Dominic responds with a patient smile.

“OMG! Please I have to take a selfie, please! My girlfriends will never believe that I ran into you of I don’t have a picture to prove it. Please!” She begs shamelessly.

Dominic shoots me an apologetic look and obliges the lady who appears to be close to tears by now. Her interruption is the perfect opportunity for me to escape and I slink away with the little shred of dignity I have left, as Dominic and his “fan” begin to take selfies together.

As I hurry back into the restaurant to join my friends at our table, I wonder who Dominic is and make a mental note to look him up on Google once I get home later tonight.