2—Gruesome Threats.

Folarin cleared his throat loudly, promptly putting an end to the sweet father-daughter moment. Aramide jumped out of Dad’s embrace and adjusted her clothes, feeling self-conscious.

“Make some noise next time, would you?” she turned to glare at him.

“That defeats the entire purpose of stealth,” Folarin mumbled.

“I don’t care—”

Dad whistled loudly like he was calling a pack of dogs off or telling big babies to stop arguing. He had done that a lot when they were young.

“Sorry, Dad.” “Sorry, sir.” they chorused.

“I need you to be prepared,” Dad said as Folarin handed over the folder and melted into the shadows. “These are very gruesome.”

Dad gave it to her and pushed her back into her seat. Her hands trembled as she opened the folder.

She gasped and tossed the folder. Dad had tried to prepare her, but nothing could prepare her for the image that stared back at her.

“Oh, baby,” Dad pulled her into a hug and rocked her.

“Who?!” she gasped.

“We don’t know, baby. There is no address. We tried to trace the packages, but there were no fingerprints. It was clean,”

“Poor Lauren,” Ara felt warm tears slide down her face.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “After that, we screened all the mail.”

“Can't we just stop them from sending it?”

Her Dad snorted. “How? You can't just unsubscribe from mail. We receive packages daily.”

She sighed. “I'm sorry I was such a pain about this.”

He laughed. “It's okay, my independent baby.”

She laughed too. “You remind me of your mother when you act all independent.”

“I do?”

“Yeah, your mom was very independent.”

“You never talk about her anymore.”

“I just miss her so much. You know how it is.”

Aramide nodded as tears misted in her eyes. She understood; just the thought of Dee made her cry these days.

“Ah, I'm sorry for bringing it up. Don't cry, baby.”

“I'm sorry. I just miss him so much. He is never going to meet his child."

“Oh, honey.”

“I didn't think I would be widowed at this age.”

Her dad laughed. “No one does.”

He pulled away from the hug and touched her belly. “My girlie just kicked.”

She laughed and slapped his hand away. “Dad! It's too early for that.”

He smiled. “There is that smile.”

“Thanks, Dad. I love you.”

“I love you, too, my sweet.” He hugged her again. “Do you need the day off?”

She laughed. “Dad, I'm okay.” She wiped her eyes. “I just need a minute to pull myself together.”

“Breakfast?”

She shook her head. “Maybe lunch.”

“Aramide!” Dad’s sharp voice gave her chills.

“Blame your grandchild. Food is making me nauseous right now.”

“Okay, crackers and tea. Just something to sustain you until lunch. Lauren told me you didn't eat much for dinner.”

“Well, Lauren needs to stop reporting my dinner patterns to you,” Ara pouted.

“She is just worried."

“Yeah, right,” She narrowed her eyes and snorted. “Okay, oo. Lemme get back to work. I will join you for lunch.”

“Okay, my love.” He pulled her up. “I will see you at lunch.”

Folarin pulled the door open for her and followed her down the corridor. She turned back to him with questioning eyes. His only response was a raised brow.

“Right,” she nodded. He was her bodyguard now. Or should she say again? He had been her bodyguard when she had lost her Mom. Yes, she had vehemently refused a bodyguard, but Dad outsmarted her. He brought Folarin home one day under the guise of helping a friend’s son.

It was something he did all the time, so she never suspected a thing. He was just a few years older than her at eighteen, but he was behind in school because he came from the village, so they were in the same class. They went to school and did everything else together because she didn’t want him to feel lonely being far from home.

She liked him, even though he always wore black. He had been a quiet kid, answering her questions with grunts. Slowly, she thawed his icy exterior, and he started laughing with her. Volunteering to go out with her instead of being forced. He became her best friend in the whole world. She trusted him with everything.

Until she found out that he had been lying to her all along. It had broken her more than watching her mom die had. Which was crazy. She had felt so betrayed that she hadn’t spoken to Dad that year. The plan was for Folarin to follow her to university, but he had been put on the waitlist.

She had been looking into different options, like remaining in Abuja or even going to Unilag like Mom had. Which deeply irritated Dad at the time. None of that mattered after she found out. She had thrown a temper tantrum and refused to go to school if Folarin followed her.

Dad had compromised by sending her abroad. He had set her up in London with a driver and a housekeeper. The driver was her bodyguard, but she didn’t even fight it. She felt like she had won the war, but looking back, she had never won where her dad was concerned. He always got his way. Always.

He didn’t build a multi-billion-dollar company from nothing by accepting no. He made things happen even if he had to twist her hand to get it. She knew he did it because he loved and was worried about her. So, she just accepted it.

Thinking she hadn’t accepted a bodyguard when her Mom died now felt like a big lie; she snorted. She had no choice; it was either go to school with Folarin or accept the bodyguard. She had picked the lesser of all evils, just to get away from Folarin.

Now he was back in her life. Larger than ever, still wearing black. In some ways, he was still the same teenager she remembered, but in other ways. In other ways, the boy she once knew had transformed, replaced by this strong and confident individual.

Folarin moved with a quiet vigilance that seemed ingrained in his very being, his every motion deliberate yet effortless. The black suit he wore only accentuated the sharp edges of his broad shoulders and the taut definition of his chest, a physique that spoke to years of discipline and training. She couldn't deny the presence he commanded, intimidating yet somehow reassuring.

It was the contrast that unsettled her—the polished veneer of the man paired with the raw strength that lay just beneath. His movements were precise, bordering on mechanical, as if he had a set checklist for every step he took. Even the way his jaw tensed as he scanned the room spoke of a readiness that never seemed to falter.

Her gaze lingered, catching the faint scar on his temple, a small reminder of battles fought, of stories untold. His neatly trimmed beard framed a face that was both familiar and unfamiliar, a paradox she couldn’t quite unravel. He was larger than life now, and somehow, larger than the teenage boy she once knew. She watched his back as he opened the door of her office and moved in.

“I enter every room first.” He walked in and surveyed the area, checked under her couch, and every nook. Was he looking for a bomb or something?

“Can I enter my office now?” she snapped, her irritation barely hidden. She had work to do.

He nodded.

She settled into her chair with a loud sigh, opened her laptop, and got back to work. She had been going through her emails when she saw Dad’s email. It was just nine a.m., and she felt like she had been on an emotional rollercoaster. She shifted her focus from the dumpster fire that was her life now to work. She had a few projects at work that needed her to be one hundred percent or nothing else. Her team wasn’t going to be anything but the best.

A big part of focusing on work was ignoring the six-foot tower at her side. Which was easier said than done. Not just because he demanded attention, but also because she was suddenly hyper-aware of his presence in her office. Maybe it was because he was standing over her shoulder, maybe if she made him sit, she discarded the thought. He wouldn’t listen to her anyway. Work, Ara. She screamed at herself. Mentally, of course. She didn’t need her mental health to be reported to her father, too.

It was going to be a very long day, she thought with a mental snort. Funny how this was what she thought before she knew the gruesome gift awaiting her back home.