Scars (Romola 2)

67: Fiancée's Visit

"Put a ring on a girl and she thinks she owns you forever." - Verity Nyle

Olumide arrived at his hotel room in a trance-like state. Or something of that sort. He could not remember how he had got himself from Kennedy's office back to the police jeep or how he had got to the hostel. He did remember insisting that he had not sent Romola's pictures to those men.

The IG told him to go home and rest, and assured that they would get to the bottom of it, but he didn't trust that they would. Did they believe that he did not send it? Inspector Tade's response was quite vague. The man said his involvement in the matter made it harder to prosecute Kennedy.

He placed the key card on the card reader at the door but the light glowed red.

He tapped his card but the same colour flashed. His briefcase dropped to the wine rug. All he wanted was sleep. He didn't have the strength to walk downstairs and yell at one of his father's many employees. Maybe the old man had finally carried out the threat of throwing him out. Were they that mad about the way he proposed to Yetunde?

He pushed the door and it gave way. He stepped back and looked at the golden plate number on the door. Yes, this was his room. Why was his door open? He picked his laptop bag and moved in with precision of a hunter.

"Finally, you're here. I thought I was going to die of boredom."

His bag fell from his hand at the sight of Yetunde dressed in a simple pink shirt that stopped mid-thigh as she crossed her legs while sitting on his bed.

"What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you, of course." She cocked her head and her long blue braids dangled from the tips of her scalp unto the white bedsheet. "You haven't been picking my calls."

He walked to the fridge while ripping off his neck tie. "How did you get in here?"

"I'm your fiancée. Everyone knows that. You can't keep ignoring me, Mide."

"I'm not ignoring you."

"Yes, you are."

Her footsteps sounded louder him as he leaned into the fridge and grabbed a soda can. He popped it open as her hands reached for his shoulders.

Her fingers kneaded his shoulder blades before her arms ran over his back, under his armpits and over his chest. "I missed you."

"Stop it." He cast her hands aside.

There was something inappropriate about the way she touched him. Her touch was foreign and revolting.

"Don't you like it?" Her meagre attempt to sound like an experienced seductress sounded like sand paper would feel on his tongue.

"Like what?" He faced her. "After the stupid stunt you pulled at Vicky's wedding?"

"Stupid stunt?" Yetunde raised a brow. "What happened with Romola, right?"

He didn't answer.

"You can't still be mad about that. It was her fault."

Olumide walked away and placed his bag on the bed. He shed his jacket and it dropped to the floor at his feet. Yetunde picked it up.

"You should not have gone after her. You shouldn't have hit her like that."

Yetunde shook her head. "And what should I have done? She ruined Vicky's cake and for all I know, she might have come to ruin our proposal."

Olumide wished Romola had come for that purpose. Maybe he would feel greater peace about his decision. The lesser time he spent with Yetunde, the more time he would have to think over the events of that day. So far, his two conclusions were yet to change. Either he really sent Romola's pictures to those men or Romola sent those pictures herself. Either situation seemed improbable.