Gill was already in a foul mood when she arrived at her company the next morning. The elevator doors slid open, and she stepped out with her usual brisk stride, her phone pressed to her ear.
"No, Tega, I don't care if the gas finished this morning. You should've checked it last night. I'm not a magician, I'm your sister!" she snapped, exhaling heavily. "Figure it out before Mum complains. I'll send money later."
She ended the call and stuffed the phone into her bag, muttering under her breath. Between her chaotic family and this company that was always on the verge of collapse, she barely had time to breathe.
Her secretary, Bisi, rushed up the moment she walked into the lobby. "Good morning, ma! We, um… we have an applicant waiting."
Gill arched a brow. "An applicant? For what position? I didn't approve any new hire."
Bisi winced. "It's… for the driver position. Remember, Mr. Kunle quit yesterday? He said the stress was too much."
Gill groaned, dragging a hand through her hair. "That coward. He couldn't even give me two weeks' notice. Fine. So, where's the applicant?"
Bisi pointed toward the waiting area.
Gill's heels clicked across the polished tiles as she walks towards the area— and froze.
There he was.
The arrogant stranger from yesterday's road disaster sat comfortably in the chair, legs crossed, a faint smirk playing on his lips as though he had been waiting for her. He looked annoyingly fresh in a plain shirt and dark trousers, nothing flashy, but still carrying that air of someone who didn't need to try.
"You," Gill spat, eyes narrowing.
"Me," he replied smoothly, standing to his full height. "Good morning. I hear you're in need of a driver."
Bisi looked between them, startled. "ma...you two… know each other?"
"Unfortunately," Gill muttered, folding her arms. "And the answer is no. We're not hiring him."
The man slipped his hands into his pockets, unbothered by her hostility. "Why not? I have a driver's license. I know my way around the city. And clearly, you're desperate."
Gill's jaw clenched. "Desperate? Listen here, Mr. Roadblock, I don't know what game you're playing, but you're not stepping one foot into this company."
He leaned closer, lowering his voice so only she could hear. "You really should relax. That temper will get you in trouble one day."
Her eyes blazed. "And you really should disappear before I call security."
Before she could make good on the threat, the head of HR, Mr. Adebayo, came trotting in with a file. "Ah, Ms. Gill, I already interviewed him. Honestly, we can't waste more time — you have meetings all week. You need a driver immediately."
Gill shot him a death glare. "You interviewed him without asking me?"
Mr. Adebayo adjusted his glasses nervously. "He seemed qualified ma. And polite."
Gill turned back to the stranger, who looked far too entertained by the chaos. "What did you tell them?"
"The truth," he said with a shrug. "That I'm hardworking, reliable, and not easily intimidated."
Her blood boiled. "Intimidated? You think I'm trying to intimidate you?"
He tilted his head, studying her with infuriating calm. "Aren't you?"
Gill inhaled sharply, counting to three in her head before she exploded. The entire staff was watching from their desks, pretending to work while sneaking glances. She could already hear the gossip spreading like wildfire.
"Fine," she bit out finally, pointing a sharp finger at him. "One week. That's all you get. If you so much as breathe wrong, you're out. Understood?"
He smiled politely, confident, maddening. "Crystal clear, boss."
Gill spun on her heel, her heart hammering in her chest. This was a disaster. An absolute disaster.
By noon, she regretted every decision that had led to this moment.
The man — whose name, apparently, was Michael, though Gill doubted it was his real name had already driven her to three different meetings. And though he handled the car smoothly, his mouth was the real problem.
"You drive like you're going for a war," she snapped after he swerved past a keke with flawless precision.
"Better safe than sorry," he replied casually. "Unless you prefer slow drivers who let everyone climb on their head."
She glared at him from the back seat. "You talk too much."
"And you complain too much."
Gill's fists clenched in her lap. No employee had ever dared to speak to her like this. She should have fired him on the spot. But the truth was, he was good behind the wheel — and she had no time to search for another driver. Still, his audacity gnawed at her.
At the next stoplight, he caught her staring at him through the rearview mirror. "What?" he asked.
She blinked. "What what?"
"You're looking at me like you're trying to solve a puzzle. Don't strain yourself."
Her jaw dropped. "You're insufferable."
"Maybe," he said lightly, the corner of his mouth twitching. "But I'm also useful. You'll see."
Gill exhaled hard, deciding to ignore him for the rest of the ride. But as they pulled into the company parking lot, she couldn't ignore the way he smirked, as though he had already won some silent battle she hadn't agreed to fight.
That evening, Gill sat at her desk, massaging her temples. The day had been endless, her meetings stressful, and yet her mind kept circling back to him. His calm arrogance, his confidence, the way he didn't flinch under her sharp tongue…
"Ugh, nonsense," she muttered, slamming her notebook shut.
But outside her office, the so-called driver leaned casually against the wall, waiting to escort her home. His eyes gleamed with quiet satisfaction.
From his pocket, he slipped out his phone and dialed a number.
"Did you get it?" he asked when his assistant picked up.
"Yes, sir," the assistant replied. "Full background. Gillian Okoye, twenty-seven, Runs her family company after her father fell ill. Stubborn reputation. Protective of her siblings. And sir…" the assistant hesitated. "She really thinks you're just a job applicant?"
"Of course," the billionaire said, his smirk deepening. "And that's exactly how I want it."
He ended the call and slid the phone back into his pocket, his gaze drifting toward Gill's office door.
The road had been their collision point. The company was their battlefield and he had no plans of losing.