(Previously on Confessions: Obi was caught between passion, regret, and business. After a restless night haunted by memories of a fleeting romance, he meets his partner Kot, who warns him about the dangerous entanglements from his past. Their exchange brims with tension, moral accusations, veiled threats, and Obi’s insistence that fear is the real enemy. The revelation lands: the mysterious woman, Darce, isn’t just a fling but is connected to the powerful investors they’re about to meet, through her engagement to the CEO. What seemed like a private indulgence could explode into a corporate scandal.)
“Remember, you’ve promised, Obi.”
Watching Kot walk through the doors to the reception, I wondered, for I could not remember what I had promised.
“However, I would do my utmost not to be provoked by ‘wanton memories,” I thought.
Even though I had much respect for Kot’s acumen, I still felt convinced that the meeting was either a trap for me or an unworthy farce.
“Nevertheless, I would rather bite out my tongue than be lacking in discernment and let my primitive buffoonery prevail,” I thought, accepting a glass of cold orange juice from a waitress as we were led to our seats, under a shade of makuti.
“Wait here, Mr. Amadi will be with you momentarily,” the host said, bowed rather low, from intentional impressiveness, I suspected, and left.
“It’s a beautiful place,” I remarked softly, sinking into a soft seat.
My mind lingered slightly at the mermaid, so finely sculptured it seemed humanlike, rising from the middle, where the seven giant pools met. Her sharp face bore the softness of a woman caught mid-thought, lips curved in the faintest of smiles, and her eyes, though carved from stone, seemed to follow the shimmer of the water, to me, knowingly!
I turned away, trying to still my nerves. The crisp white walls gleamed in the late morning sun, their Swahili arches and carved wooden balconies whispering of old coastal charm. Reflections of palm fronds danced across the surface of the turquoise water, while the faint scent of sea drifted through the air, until Kot’s lamentation raised its head again.
“Yes, beautiful. And let’s hope it stays that way. You have given your word to control yourself. Don’t make me afraid to be amongst decent people with you,” said Kot.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“We both know how much of a romantic you are. If you begin to play the fool, I don’t intend to be associated with you.”
“Why are you so agitated, Kot. I haven’t interfered with you,” I looked at him from the rim of my glass as I took a gulp. “The company doesn’t seem to be punctual,” I looked at my watch and pretended to be oblivious of his snarl. “We are punctual ourselves. Punctuality is the courtesy of Kings. But these, with all their wealth, are not a far cry from peasants,” I ploughed on.
“But you are not a King, anyway,” he said.
“Yes, that’s true, I am not a King. And can you believe that I was aware of that myself?” I said, chuckling.
“A buffoon in earnest,” and we both burst into laughter as if on cue.
The contingent arrived when we were on our third glasses of juice, and Kot was fairly relaxed by then. There were three.
Shaking Amadi’s hand, I looked into his eyes. It’s said the eyes are the doors to a person's soul, and his were borne to me.
From the cursory glance and brief sweaty handshake as Kot introduced us, I established that I didn’t like his face. He was a short, bow-legged little man. I am short, but he was maybe an inch or two under. And that self-satisfactory grin that stuck on his thin lips, as his small light-colored eyes darted like flints, irked me to the core. His nose was not long, but sharp, like a bird’s beak.
“To all appearances, a malicious soul full of petty pride,” I thought. ”Well, this will be interesting," my mind rumbled on as the second member of the group was introduced.
