The failed arrangement
Chief Sterling, sensing his own mortality, had become obsessed with seeing Liam married. He wanted a dynasty, a continuation of the Sterling bloodline with a woman of "appropriate" standing. Over the last two years, Liam had been subjected to a parade of the most eligible bachelorettes in West Africa. There was Isabella, the daughter of a shipping magnate, who spent their entire dinner talking about her shoe collection in Paris. Then there was Beatrice, an Ivy League graduate whose every sentence felt like a rehearsed PR statement designed to impress his father.
Liam broke up with them all, usually before the dessert course was served. His excuses were always the same: they were spoiled, they were vacuous, or they were simply bored children playing at being adults. "They are all clones, David," Liam had complained after a particularly disastrous date with an oil heiress. "They want the name, the bank account, and the prestige. None of them have a soul that hasn't been bought and paid for by their fathers." He grew to loathe the scripted nature of high-society romance. He retreated further into his work, becoming the "Iceman" of the Lagos business circuit. He stopped looking for a connection, convinced that love was a fairy tale told to people who couldn't afford reality. He didn't want a girl from a rich background who had never known a day of struggle. He wanted something real, something raw—though he never expected to find it in the middle of a smoke-filled room at the Night Rose, hidden behind a mask of red lace.