Black hair, the longest I've ever seen on a man but then again there weren't men like this in Nigeria. Sculpted, buff hands, tattooed, a slash at the tip of his perfectly tailored eyebrow. Gosh! He was handsome. My eyes move down slowly, taking in his perfectly snugged T-shirt making his muscled pop, his black trousers, probably more expensive than my car, the sparkly clean air forces placed perfectly on his feet. I was playing DND by Rema through the radio and Isiah was singing away. We didn't have an international airport back home in Ibadan, so they arrived at Lagos and were driving back home.
"So Nasha," Axel finally spoke, we had been driving for two hours now, and he hadn't spoken a word.
"Yes?"
"What's your full name, Natasha?"
"Um..." There was a slight pang in my chest and I swallowed hard. "It's Nakusha actually but where are you from?"
"Oh?" his eyes narrowed "I'm from the UK; my mom was Italian; my dad was a UK Navy Seal"
"Was?"
"Dad died in the Army; Mom died 6 years later. Car accident"
"I'm so sorry"
"Well, I'm not" He's not? Did he hate his parents? I wanted to ask. Why did he hate his parents? Why wasn't he affected by their deaths? But I didn't press. I know better than to push someone past their limits.
"Do you speak Italian?"
"Italian?"
"You said your mom was from there so I thought you would"
"Little, why?"
"My mom was always fascinated by their language." She was very fascinated by it; she always talked about how much she loved it. It was one of the few times she spoke to me with a smile... My eyebrows furrow and I swallow hard.
"What's wrong?" Axel's deep husky voice interrupted me. It was laced with an unreadable expression.
"I'm fine. It's nothing."
The rest of the ride was quiet, no one spoke except for Nick's occasional banter and soon enough we arrived at the family mansion. Nick's parents were rich and they had a humongous house which was why they were chosen to take care of me after my mom overdosed. They were nice too, they didn't treat me like the rest of my family- which often called me omo apayan, child of a murderer. They'd called me that after they found out-
"Isiah!" The familiar voice of Mrs. James, Nick's mother's voice echoes through the air as she basically sprints towards her son giving him a huge hug. Who would blame her? She hadn't seen him in over four years.
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I hope you all enjoyed this chapter!!! I felt I had to do a double update to celebrate the start of this book!! For my Nigerians reading, do you take your garri with or without sugar