The Wedded Whore (Completed)

Chapter Eight

Adamma donned on the emerald-green gown she had been slated to wear for the party she was going to attend that evening. It was being hosted in the honor of the outgoing German ambassador to Nigeria, and she was one of the lucky invitees to the party_ Dan had told her that the man was enamored of her music, and so she'd had no way to beg off the party without appearing rude to him. She knew that her rakish husband would attend; they were even supposed to go together, but he'd called her at the last minute, telling her to go on ahead, that he was being delayed at the office. She darkly wondered if the delay was being caused by one of those women who were so in love with him. I must be getting old, she thought wryly.

When the chauffeur-driven car arrived at Almanac's, she alighted from the car and then, without the need to proffer her invitation card to the security men who manned the gate, she was led right inside, past some of the guests who had to suffer the indignity of waiting in a long queue for their names to be sorted out. She headed straight for the ambassador after she had invariably halted in her strides and exchanged pleasantries with their hostess, a crossover classical opera singer.

The man was extremely pleased to see her and he personally expressed his gratitude that she had agreed to come. And then she found herself being drawn into conversations with some of the nearest guests with whom she was acquainted with, and even though the room was packed with well-scented bodies who buzzed with aimless conversation, she managed to plaster a look of interest on her face. As she listened to their host rattle on about the snake delicacies he'd sampled on his visit to the North, she found herself searching around the room for her traitorous husband whom she knew invariably would attend; she had to be with him so that she'd give the other people around the impression that she was a happily married woman. Her quest to win her husband over to her side and make him see her differently had already begun.

And surely, he attended. From his vantage point on the dark, unlighted terrace, Obi was watching the men and the women in the room, talking their hearts out. He hated the fact that he was being forced to put in attendance at such an affair and had tried to beg off, but his mother would never hear of such cowardice or rudeness on his part, so he'd donned on the green tuxedo he'd ordered earlier that day and had driven out to come and pay his respects to the ambassador. The dizzy spell that had been caused by the arrival of his wife had not yet worn off and he was still reeling inwardly from its effects. Her arrival in that gown had made the entire party hold their breath, and he was forced to grudgingly admit to himself that she was true physical perfection.

Obi approached her as she was deep in conversation with an American woman whose raven black hair, bright blue eyes and alabaster skin contrasted with her all-white ensemble, making her look almost angelic and divine in the sea of green that was all around them.

As the woman bestowed a charming smile on him and excused herself, sauntering off in the quest of other characters, Obi smiled at his wife who looked outrageously calm as she stared at him with those luminous eyes that always had the capacity to burn holes right through him.

'So, you've decided to entangle as much men as you can into your web of seduction,' he remarked, watching with satisfaction as her shoulders sagged. 'Surely, you do know how to make use of your gifts of feminine allure.' But before she could make a reply, he hurried on, raising one hand to forestall her from saying anything. He said soothingly, 'My dear girl, please let's not fight or quarrel here. Let us call a truce, at least for now, giving the assemblage the impression that we're hopelessly in love with each other.'

That we're hopelessly in love with each other . . .

Those words, uttered with such flippancy, burned through Adamma and stung her senses like a legion of vengeful scorpions. Her emotions were sent into a tunnel of sharp pain which she hadn't anticipated in any way. She asked herself: why would Obi single himself out to be the source of her doom? Why would he choose to single-handedly extinguish the light in her eyes with just one devastating sentence?