Although Lydia worked here before, coming back to work left her feeling a little green and giddy at the prospect of seeing the people she considered family. She left the locker room in a clean, well ironed black uniform with Brennan’s golden emblem engraved at the left side of her breast, feeling like a new person. Her hair had been tucked into two sophisticated buns behind her head, leaving the edges to tease her nape.
With a hopeful sigh, she pushed the door open and paused when the occupants of the kitchen froze. Hilda’s cry and Toran’s excited bear hug and the general happy cheer made her embarrassed and happy.
“Oh, Lord be praised. She’s returned.” Hilda beamed. Her cheeks red from happiness and steam. She reminded Lydia of a painting of Santa she saw once at the mall.
“Yes o. I’m thankful for that.” Lydia said joining the happy dance that had the people laughing and cheering. Toran hugged her from behind. “And I promise to be a good child.”
“Let’s see how well that goes.” Hilda said good-naturedly, returning back to her work.
Lydia turned about in Toran’s arms to stare at him, and saw the excitement on his face. Her eyes narrowed playfully at him. “Bia nwa a, you are still growing tall, eh?”
He mimicked her expression. “Of course. Three months is a long time.”
Her hand caressed his net covered hair, then tugged him down for a hug and whispered into his ear. “How is the stuff with you and oga?”
“It’s going well, I guess.” He answered a bit stiffly.
“It’s alright.” She whispered looking at him. “So you came to my house and didn’t wait for me to come back before leaving m gbo?”
Toran chuckled. “I waited quite a while before Susannah told me you went to church. She later told me that you came back three hours later.”
“Toran, I need those vegetables prepped now.” Hilda spoke, breaking the conversation. “Playtime is over. Work. Now.”
“Alright. Fuck.” He muttered grudgingly under his breath before glancing at Lydia with a concerned frown. “Susannah didn’t come to work today.”
“She’s not well. Had to do with something she ate. Her boyfriend is with her.” Lydia replied.
He nodded. “You think this one will work?”
“Absolutely.” She assured. “That’s partly the reason I’m not calling home. Can’t risk hearing something I can’t unhear.”
His face wrinkled at the imagery. “But she’s sick.”
“That has never been an obstacle.”
“Toran!” Hilda barked warningly this time shooting him a gimlet stare.
He sighed as Lydia left him then took his place next to the huge pile of vegetables washed earlier. “You always want me near you at all times, Hilda, why? I’m not the only busboy here.”
Hilda smacked his head with a string of Swedish. “You don’t want to work, hand in your resignation then”
Toran glared irritatedly at her as he reached for the fat carrots and a wickedly sharp knife.
Lydia moved to the trays of food that needed to be served with a chuckle as Toran and Hilda argued, took a tray and left the kitchen.
“By the way. I’ll need you to take this up to Brennan.”
“And what is Esiri doing?” he shot back in annoyance.
She waved him off airily whilst plating the food, covering it with a steel, dome-shaped lid. “She’s occupied.”
“So am I?”
Hilda glared at him with an annoyed huff. “Leave I’ll have another take care of that. And for God sakes use the elevator.”
“Obviously.” He muttered sourly abandoning the untouched carrots, taking the cart by the handle and pushed sluggishly, dodging Hilda’s incoming hand in time.
†
Brennan looked up from the paper work as the door opened with a dark scowl which vanished at the sight of Toran wheeling in his food. His gaze snapped from the covered dish to Toran as they both neared him. “Why are you serving me? What happened to the others?”
Toran shrugged, placing the covered dish on a table along with the napkin and silverware. “Apparently we’re short-staffed as it is. Hilda sent me.” He replied with a hint of scorn.
Brennan arched an amused brow. He’s pissed. “Huh.” His fingers reached for the hidden button under his desk and pressed it, locking the door from inside.
Toran’s gaze flew to the door at the sound of the latch clicking in place, then glanced warily to Brennan as he lazily rose from his chair. He wore a thick woolen burgundy sweater and a pair of black jeans with dark brown suede boots. The sleeves of his shirt were pulled back slightly exposing his inked forearms.
Long, tapered fingers curved over the dome-shaped cover’s handle and lifted it.
“Lemon cakes? That’s what she was disturbing me for?” Toran said incredulously.
Brennan swiped a finger, scooping a little dollop of whip cream into his mouth and swallowed. “What? I like them and asked Hilda to make them.”
Toran remained silent remembering that no matter whatever was going on between them; Brennan was still his boss and his playfulness can switch to malevolence in a heartbeat
Brennan left the dessert and stalked towards Toran. His dark eyes narrowed at the net on the dark brown head and snatched it from his head, dropping it on the floor. His warm fingers delved into the dark curls with a smile. “Is something wrong?”
“Who has lemon cakes in the afternoon.” Toran muttered with a scoff.
“I do. It’s never too late or too early for dessert.” He closed the distance between them completely. “And although I wasn’t expecting you here,” His voice slid into a wickedly soft whisper, his hand snaked to cup Toran’s face. “I won’t mind having the main course instead.” His lips covered Toran’s, seeking entrance and tasting him; melding the residue taste of whip cream against Toran’s tongue.
They merged into one, tongues slid hotly against one another in an erotic dance. Toran gripped the edge of the long desk for balance, and felt Brennan lift him to sit on the smooth, polished surface of the desk, making room between Toran’s legs as the kiss deepened with excruciating heat. A growl brushed his lips.
Toran parted his thighs further, groping the thick dark gold curls, nipping hard and hungrily at the velvet smooth lips.
Brennan reached behind Toran for the strings of his apron and deftly untied it, pulling back slightly to tug it off along with the white shirt; leaving him bare to his waist. The thin steel chain around his deep caramel neck intrigued him.
“Excuse me, sir. Mr Rox is not available. He’s out for lunch.” Lia’s voice came from the door, stopping whoever it was outside the door from entering.
Brennan’s velvet lips trailed down Toran’s neck and collarbone in an open-mouthed kiss, raking his tongue and teeth on the sensitive skin there.
Toran barely held back a hiss of pleasure, stroking Brennan’s head as he moved lower to his chest, nibbling hard on his puckered nipples.
“Do you know when he’ll be back?” the voice asked.
“Let me get back to you on that.” Lia said. “If you’ll please take a seat while I consult his schedule.”
Brennan covered his body with bite marks so vicious and hot Toran shivered. Toran tugged him upwards for a kiss; their lips slipping apart on occasions, his fingers curled around the edges of Brennan's woolen shirt and pulled. He tugged it off and threw it carelessly to the floor, then shoved Toran on his desk amidst the documents; trapping his wrists with one hand and dove again for his neck.
“He’ll be back in an hour thirty minutes.” Lia spoke finally to the visitor. “Would like to leave a message?”
“Oh, that won’t be necessary.” The man assured lightly.
Brennan tore Toran’s jeans down to a tumbled heap on the floor and release himself. Sliding two fingers into Toran’s parted lips, he pulled the thoroughly slickened fingers and stabbed abruptly into him. “Shh.” He whispered into Toran’s heated ear, nipping at the earlobe. “Be quiet.”
“That’s fucking impossible.” Toran hissed, low and harsh.
Brennan’s deep laugh vibrated against his ear. “It will have to be. If you want this to continue.” He withdrew his fingers, positioning the dipping tip of his fat cock and began pushing languidly until he was fully seated inside him.
Toran shot up to a sitting position, clamping his teeth hard on the tawny, sinewed shoulder to muffle his cries. The pain so profound, Brennan jerked under his hands. He licked the hurt away, lapping softly at the reddened skin and the crown of his bite; twisting his face to meet the deep forest green eyes dark with lust and predatory hunger as he moved, taking his lips again. “I hope your door is sound proof, sir.” He whispered between kisses. “Else we are fucked.”
Brennan looked down to the fast-leaking cock and wrapped his hand around it pumping his wrist and swallowed the soft moans into his mouth. “Partially.”
“Partially?” Toran rasped, against the vicious steel ramming and destroying his insides. “Oh…God. I’m screwed.”
“Well…basically.” Brennan chuckled.
“Just tell him to give me a call.” The man said to Lia after a contemplative pause. “I have things of utmost importance to speak to him about. Here’s my card.”
“Alright, sir. Thank you for your patience. I will inform him of your visit.” She said graciously. “Good bye, sir. Have a wonderful afternoon.”
“Thank you.”
Toran buried his teeth again on Brennan’s shoulder in a bid to hold back his shout. A strangled sound escaped his lips instead. He arched his spine and dug his fingers into the inked biceps to steady himself against the aggressive, almost brutal onslaught of Brennan’s impalements.
The office phone rang. Brennan ignored it. Bracing a hand near Toran’s head, his thrusts increased from impalements to pistoning motions; plunging and destroying. The slick slaps of their bodies…the kisses and their frantic pants for air, hurled them over the cliff into the phantasmagoria that was climax. Brennan emptied himself inside Toran’s body, heavily coating and drenching the inner walls with heated semen. Both delirious and drunk from their release.
Brennan dropped his sweaty face on Toran’s chest with an orgasmic shudder at the sensation of Toran’s warm breath brushing his shoulder. He raised tired eyes to Toran’s hooded face and muttered in a drained voice. “Fuck. I think I shouted.”
Toran laughed softly. “No, you didn’t.”
Brennan kissed his lips briefly over the incessant ringing of his office phone. That was alright. He’s out having lunch. There was still enough time to freshen up and cover all tracks of his indiscretions. He glanced back to the young man with assessing eyes and a small smile entered his face. “You look totally fucked.”
Toran gave a sly smile. “Thank you, sir. I owe it all to you.
⸶
Lydia wheeled the food cart to its designated table and placed the overly large plate with a medium portioned pasta on the black clothed table. “Your meal is served. Enjoy.” She said without looking at the costumer.
“Five months is a long time to hold a grudge, don’t you think?” Martin said dropping the leather encased book he was reading.
She stiffened and closed her eyes to steady her suddenly frayed nerves. Her eyes opened and rested on his face. He still hadn’t changed with his hair rumpled and curly, and his long lashes that casted shadows over eyes ingrained with gold and black flecks. Secretly, Lydia wondered if her children would inherit those peculiar eyes if she married him.
Lydia scowled inwardly at the thought then pinned a cool aloof smile over her waitress façade. She worked hard to pull her temper by the reins before she blindly upturned the plate on his head. Again. “Martin.” She said coolly, almost tipping to frigidity.
“How are you doing, Lydia?” he asked casually.
Silently, she watched him blankly. The silence stretch into awkward minutes between them.
He cleared his throat uncomfortably. “I see you’ve gotten your job back. Good for you…”
“What are you doing here, Martin?” Lydia asked in a dissatisfied tone.
“I came for lunch.” He answered simply.
“Lunch.” She echoed.
“Yeah. Lunch.”
Lydia watched him with cold, assessing eyes. He was still dressed in his all-black attire except instead of his shoes like the last time, a grey cashmere scarf draped on his neck over his black coat. From the parted lapels she saw the coal black suit inside. “Dressed as always.” She commented flatly.
Martin glanced down at himself with a slight frown. “Why, thank you.”
“It wasn’t a compliment.”
He sighed tiredly in resignation. “Listen, I’m sincerely sorry for my outburst five months back. I was so blinded by my rage it prompted me to say such unsavory things that I didn’t mean. That was insensitive and horrible of me.”
Lydia looked at him. “Your “outburst” had me fired and basically jobless for three months.”
“I really am sorry.” He said contritely.
She continued quietly, smoothing her apron. “I’ll leave before that lukewarm pasta ends up on your head and ruin your expensive coat.”
“Lydia –”
Her face slid back into the impenetrable waitress façade completed with a smile. “Are you enjoying your meal, sir? Is there something else you require? We have a wide variety of savory appetizers. How about dessert then? Lemon cakes, perhaps. Or parfait?”
Martin said nothing holding her gaze, regret and sadness etched vividly on his face.
“Sir? Could we interest you with any of the aforementioned treats and more?”
“No.” he whispered, staring down at his food sadly.
Lydia almost pitied him. With a slight bow and a gracious smile, she took hold of the cart and slowly maneuvered the tables for the kitchen.
†
“What took you so long Toran?” Alder asked snidely. “I swear every time you go up to Mr Rox’s office you take forever coming out.”
“I got held up.” Toran replied absent-mindedly.
“Doing what?” Alder pressed.
Toran glared at him. “How about you mind your business and fuck off.” He smiled cruelly. “I don’t ask you what takes your time whenever you go out of your station which is here.”
Lydia glanced up in surprise at the menace in his voice. What happened?
“I had no idea you were my secret admirer.” He leaned his hip against the work table, folding his arms. “Tell me the truth, Toran. I’m curious.”
“Think what your sick brain dreams up, Alder. Maybe I contemplate suicide on the root top. No one really knows.”
“No. You’re bluffing.” He leaned closer and whispered. “You know the suicide talk’s bullshit.”
A pit formed in Lydia’s stomach at the Alder’s question. He knew. He knew and wanted everyone to have suspicions. She crazily waited for him to say “You’re fucking the hotelier.” out loud.
Toran arched a dark brow. “You seem way too interested in my affairs, Alder. I only come when Brennan tells me to. No problem.”
Lydia’s brows rose to her hairline at the unintentional innuendo.
Alder eyes narrowed. “Brennan? Since when you start addressing him by his other name?” he asked slipping his hands into the pockets of his apron with a slight frown.
Toran watched him with a superficial frown and stopped massaging the heap of chicken breasts he was in the process of marinating. “There’s an actual roster about who serves the hotelier, Alder. If you want on the list all you’ve got to do…is ask. Now lay off my back, you’re annoying.”
Alder’s face twisted into a mysteriously sinister smile that curled Lydia’s insides. He didn’t buy into Toran’s false bravado, but decided to leave it at that.
Lydia knew that Alder would find out soon enough the secret she and Toran knew and sort to hide in the darkness for his safety. Her only fear was that his life could become a living hell if the truth got out.
And not even Brennan could save him.
†
Lydia entered the house and was greeted by Ebere who took her bag and coat. Instantly switching to Igbo, they spoke about her college and random things. She saw the wistful distant look on her sister’s face at the mention of Christmas long gone and felt a pang in her chest. She stroked Ebere’s arm before pulling her into an affectionate hug. “Don’t worry. We’ll travel back next year. I promise. Inugo?”
Ebere nodded against Lydia’s shoulder. Her thoughts entrapped in that single hug they shared.
Lydia pulled back with a concerned frown. “Where’s Susannah?”
“Upstairs. She’s sleeping.”
“Okay.” Lydia toed off her boots then glanced up with narrowed eyes at her sister’s fidgeting silence. “Gịnị?”
“You’re boyfriend dropped by today.” Ebere muttered warily sensing the sudden shift in her sister’s mood.
“Ehen? Did you let him in?” Lydia asked wiggling her toes encased in thick woolen socks.
Ebere shook her head. “He wanted to come in but I told him you weren’t home.” She replied, sitting on one of the grey couches in front of Lydia.
Lydia’s eyes went to the ala nchọ and knew immediately that her sister had lied. That game only came out when Ebere was home. She was too hopeless at it to care.
Plus, Ebere never played alone. It boggled her mind whenever she tried and doesn’t consider the game fair. Martin was here and he had played that game with her. She wondered what they discussed.
“Kanyi, forgive him na. Ịwụ Chukwu? Even God forgives. Ah, ah now!? Ọ tena ka .”
Lydia watched her blankly. “And how did you know that?” she asked in Igbo. “I never told you anything concerning the fight.”
“Susannah told me about it.”
“Oh.” She stood with a tired sigh. “I’m going upstairs.” She could hold a grudge, Lydia knew.
The hatred didn’t feel as pungent these past few months. Her heart was restless and her body drained. There was nothing she could do about it. The hatred and anger was still there.
She knocked on Susannah’s door and heard a muffled “Come in.” Lydia opened the door and paused at the lumpy form shrouded with the duvet with a small mass of black hair peeking out.
Lydia dropped her bag on a chair and moved round the bed and flipped one side of the duvet to slide into the unoccupied space wrapping her arms around Susannah’s soft waist, then dropped her head on Susannah’s chest. Her warmth and flowery scent enveloped her like a mother’s hug.
She peered into Susannah’s sleepy face. “Hey. How are you? Sorry to wake you.”
“I’m just tired.” She muttered stroking Lydia’s arm sleepily.
Lydia chuckled lightly burying her face deeper against Susannah’s neck. The silky raven black hair teased her cheek.
“Ebere said Martin came by today.” Susannah spoke a while after.
Lydia slid her eyes shut and whispered. “I know. She told me.”
Susannah peered at her. “What are you gonna do about him?”
“I don’t know.” She sighed wryly. “I really don’t.”