Chapter 5 A DANGEROUS SPARK

The weekend trip ended, but the shift between Zara and Tari didn't. Back in Lagos, everything returned to routine - at least on the outside. But inside, it wasn't the same. The fake kisses, the shared glances, the way he held her hand just a little longer than necessary when no one was watching. All of it left Zara unsettled. This wasn't supposed to happen. They had rules. Boundaries. A *contract*. But now, the walls were bending - not breaking, just *bending* enough for something risky to slip in. Zara sat alone in her workshop the day after they returned.

She thought the distance would help. That once she returned to her world of fabric, beads, and sketches, her mind would reset. Instead, she found herself sketching him. His jawline. His hands. His frown when he was deep in thought. She sighed and ripped the page out. "This is getting stupid," she mumbled. Her phone buzzed. A message from Tari. *TARI*: *Dinner tonight. My father wants to meet us. 7PM sharp. Formal. She didn't reply immediately. Instead, she stared at the screen for a full minute. Then finally typed: *ZARA*: *Cool. I'll be ready.* Cool. Like her feelings. Or at least, what she wished they were. *** The restaurant was high-end, perched at the top of a skyscraper in Ikoyi, with a view of the city lights below. Zara wore a deep emerald green dress, satin and off-shoulder, hugging her figure just right. Tari's eyes found her the moment she stepped out of the car. "You're late," he said softly, but his gaze didn't leave her body. "You'll survive," she replied, lips glossed, eyes sharp. Inside, the table was already set. Tari's father, Chief Amadi, sat like a king - gold cufflinks, posture stiff, eyes sharp with judgment. Beside him was his new wife - elegant, but cold. Zara kept her smile locked and charming. For the first hour, conversation was forced. The Chief grilled her like she was applying for a job she didn't want. "You say you're a designer?" he asked. "Yes, sir." "And you believe that's a sustainable future?" Zara smiled. "It's already paying my bills, sir. Comfortably." Tari glanced at her, amused. His father raised a brow. "Interesting," Chief muttered. "You're confident." "I have to be. This family seems to breathe power."That earned a small smirk from the Chief. Tari's hand found hers under the table - a silent gesture. But it lingered. And when she looked at him, their eyes locked a second too long. His thumb grazed hers. The heat returned. And this time, it didn't feel like acting. Absolutely! We'll deepen the emotions, raise tension, and shift the relationship from controlled to complicated. Zara didn't speak much during the car ride back from dinner. Tari was quiet too unusually so. There was a tension in the air now, thicker than before. Not the cold, transactional kind. Something warmer. Riskier. The kind of tension that hinted at desire neither of them wanted to name. When they arrived at the mansion, she stepped out of the car and walked straight to the guest room. But she didn't close the door. Seconds later, Tari followed her in. "Why did you hold my hand like that?" she asked, not turning around. He paused near the doorway. "It felt right." Zara let out a dry laugh. "Right? You don't do things because they feel right. You do them because they look right." Silence. Then: "Do you want the truth?" She turned slowly, arms folded. "Try me." Tari walked closer, his face unreadable. "I've been trying to draw a line between business and emotion since the day we made this deal. But somewhere between the lies and the pretending, I started... forgetting which part was fake." Her breath caught. He continued, "You make this harder than it should be." "What, pretending?" "No. *Not* feeling anything." Zara stared at him, heart racing. "You're scared." "I'm careful." "You're terrified of being human." He stepped even closer. "And you? You act like you're immune to emotion, but I saw the way you looked at me tonight." She swallowed. "Don't confuse gratitude with feelings." "I'm not confused." There was a pause. The room suddenly felt too small. "I don't want to ruin this," Zara said quietly. "This arrangement. The money. The peace I'm building." "You won't," he said. "Unless we start lying to ourselves." She looked up at him, her mask slipping. "Then maybe we need to take a step back." He blinked. "Do you want that?" "I don't know," she whispered. "But I know I'm not ready for more." Tari's jaw tensed. "Okay." And just like that, he stepped back. Not out of the room. Not out of the arrangement. But back into his armor. Because they both knew... One wrong move could collapse everything. *** The next week was strange. Tari kept things professional. Too professional. No touches. No stolen glances. Just meetings, appearances, rehearsed smiles. Zara hated how much she noticed the distance. She buried herself in work. Sketched late into the night. Rejected three potential real clients just to avoid another lie. But her thoughts always returned to that conversation. To *him.* Then one night, she got a call. Tari's voice was low. Strained. "My father had a minor heart scare. I'm at the hospital." She stood instantly. "I'm coming." He didn't argue. When she arrived, she found him in the private waiting lounge, seated alone. His blazer hung over the chair beside him, his shirt sleeves rolled up. He looked... exhausted. Zara sat quietly beside him. "How is he?" "Stable," Tari muttered. "But it shook him. And me." She reached for his hand without thinking. This time, he didn't pull away. "I hate hospitals," he said. "I know." He looked at her. "I almost didn't call you." "Why did you?" He shrugged. "You're the only one who shows up without needing something." She gave a sad smile. "You say that like it's rare." "It is." A beat passed. Then he added softly, "Stay?" She leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder. "I'm not going anywhere." And just like that, silence returned. But this time, it wasn't cold. It was comfort. Maybe even the beginning of something real.