THE UNTAINTED
Chapter 18
At the Party
"Can I answer that question for her?"
The voice came smoothly from behind Rihannat.
She stiffened slightly.
Farouk Oladeji.
Without waiting for permission, he pulled out a chair and sat opposite her, right beside his elder brother. The confidence in his movement was effortless—controlled, calculated.
His eyes rested on her.
Not casually.
Not playfully.
But like a businessman studying a proposal.
A slow smirk curved his lips.
"Rihannat isn't avoiding marriage out of fear," he began calmly. "She's avoiding it for something bigger."
Olalekan glanced sideways at his brother, curious.
Rihannat's fingers tightened in her lap.
"You are the only child of your parents," Oladeji continued. "They're aging. They've spent their savings on you. Even now, their pension is still funding your education."
Her throat went dry.
"Your mother runs a small shop at home just so there's food on the table. They would rather send you the little money they have and starve quietly than watch you struggle."
His gaze sharpened.
"Am I wrong?"
Her heart pounded so loudly she wondered if they could hear it.
"You want to succeed," he continued smoothly. "Not for luxury. Not for fame. But to change your family's story. You want to eradicate poverty from your bloodline. You want your parents to rest in their final years with dignity and comfort."
He leaned back slightly, studying her stunned expression.
"You believe marriage, right now, might slow that mission."
The air between them thickened.
Olalekan turned fully toward his brother.
Rihannat felt… exposed.
As if someone had unlocked a door she had spent years guarding.
"A man can help you," Oladeji added, "but he has limits. Boundaries. Conditions."
Her heartbeat stumbled.
"Am I right… Miss Future Millionaire?" he asked lightly. "Or should I say… billionaire?"
Her composure cracked for half a second.
"You're using university to build connections. Gain management experience. Study systems. You don't plan to work under someone forever. You want to build your own company."
He lifted a brow.
"You don't plan on serving people for too long."
Silence.
Heavy.
Olalekan narrowed his eyes slightly at his brother.
"Brother, don't look at me like that," Oladeji chuckled. "That wasn't in her file. I'm just good at reading patterns."
Rihannat swallowed.
How could he see through her so easily?
It unsettled her.
She had never spoken those dreams aloud—not even to her closest friend.
Then suddenly, his entire demeanor shifted.
He sighed dramatically. "I really wish you were my daughter."
The seriousness vanished.
Qazeem burst into laughter.
Rihannat blinked, then laughed too—relief washing over her like cool water.
"At your age?" Qazeem teased. "Can you afford such a daughter?"
"That's the problem, bro!" Oladeji groaned theatrically. "Just imagine our lineage if she were mine. Ahhh… what a loss."
Rihannat laughed harder.
She had always thought the brothers were made of ice.
Cold.
Unapproachable.
But here they were—warm, playful, unexpectedly human.
Her laughter rang brighter than she intended.
And it drew attention.
Across the hall, a group of ladies turned.
Their expressions weren't friendly.
"Why is she sitting with the brothers?" one of them whispered sharply.
"Who are you asking?" another snapped back.
Jealousy simmered.
How could she—quiet, modest, always acting saintly—sit comfortably with men they had tried so hard to impress?
Folakemi wasn't at the table; she had stepped away earlier.
Bola's eyes darkened.
"I want to teach her a lesson today," she muttered. "Who's with me?"
"Stop o, I'm not part of this," Olaitan said nervously.
But Bola was already walking away.
Everyone knew she had her eyes on one of the brothers.
"Any one of them," she always said boldly.
She returned minutes later, a strange satisfaction in her expression.
"Her façade will crumble today," she whispered with a cold smirk. "Let's see how she behaves like Holy Mary after this."
A few of her friends shivered.
That look on her face…
It wasn't new.
Back at Rihannat's table—
"Care for a drink?" Oladeji asked casually, rubbing his throat. "I feel parched."
"Water or malt?" he asked his brother.
"Anything," Olalekan replied.
"And you?" Oladeji turned to Rihannat.
"Anything is fine," she answered politely.
He waved at a serving girl nearby.
"Please get us some chilled drinks. And be quick about it."
The girl nodded and disappeared.
Rihannat's mind drifted again.
He figured everything out just from a profile and small hints…
She felt oddly impressed.
No wonder Folakemi is brilliant too. Maybe it's in their genes.
Minutes later, the girl returned with a small cart—soft drinks, three glasses, fruits, snacks arranged neatly.
"How thoughtful," Oladeji said warmly as she placed them on the table.
Rihannat barely noticed her face.
"Down-to-earth madam," Olalekan teased suddenly.
She blinked. "Sorry… did I miss something?"
"No," Oladeji smiled. "But you looked like you just traveled to space."
She laughed softly.
Then the question slipped out before she could stop it.
"Do you both have two personalities?"
They looked at her in amusement.
"I mean—sometimes you're cold… sometimes warm."
The brothers exchanged a knowing look.
Oladeji answered.
"No. It's not two personalities. It's boundaries."
His tone shifted—firm but calm.
"In business, if you're too open, snakes and scorpions will bite you. Our family is like a hot potato. If we're too friendly, everyone suddenly wants partnership in the name of friendship."
Olalekan nodded.
"That's why we maintain distance."
Then his gaze softened at her.
"But you're different."
Her heartbeat skipped.
"You may not be family," Oladeji added gently, "but you can consider our place your home."
Rihannat's eyes widened slightly.
"Visit our office anytime," Olalekan said. "Don't reject the invitation. We'll appreciate it."
There was sincerity in his voice.
"We feel… a bond with you."
The words settled between them.
"And don't bother about Folakemi," Olalekan concluded. "You don't need anyone's permission to visit us."
Rihannat felt warmth spread through her chest.
For the first time in a long while—
She didn't feel like an outsider.
But across the hall—
Bola watched.
Waiting.
And the drinks sat quietly on the table.
Unnoticed.
Untouched.
What do you think Bola is planning?
And will Rihannat's calm spirit survive what's coming next?
Stay tuned 😌