Emeka Nnadi looked like a man who had never needed to prove he belonged anywhere.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. Navy suit.
Dior Sauvage reached Zara before his smile did.
“You are the only person here who looks like they are planning an arrest,” he said.
“Why would I be planning an arrest?”
Emeka looked around the crowded hall.
“Because you have been watching everyone like you already know what they did.”
“Maybe I do.”
“That is not comforting.”
“It was not meant to be.”
He offered his hand.
“Emeka Nnadi.”
Zara knew the name.
Nnadi Construction had been shortlisted for a major federal bridge project. The bid had crossed her desk that morning.
“Zara Musa.”
Recognition appeared in his eyes.
Principal Procurement Officer.
Procurement Compliance and Review Unit.
“Ah,” he said. “So this is not a coincidence.”
“Everything here is a coincidence until somebody wants something.”
“And what do you think I want?”
“You approached the only woman who looks as though she would rather be somewhere else.”
“That does not answer the question.”
“It answers enough.”
He looked at her untouched drink.
“Let me get you something you want.”
“That sounded less innocent than you intended.”
“It sounded exactly as innocent as I intended.”
“Sparkling water.”
“Lemon?”
“No.”
“Are you certain?”
“I am capable of ordering water.”
Before Emeka could leave, another man joined them.
Dele Adesanya.
Permanent Secretary.
Polished suit. Calm smile. The quiet confidence of a man accustomed to being obeyed.
“Mr. Nnadi,” Dele said.
“Sir.”
Dele turned to Zara.
“One of our brightest young officers.”
He had recommended her for promotion the previous year. Zara had believed it meant he respected her work.
“You are not frightening our contractor, I hope,” Dele said.
“I have not started.”
Emeka smiled.
“That is not comforting either.”
Dele laughed.
“Nnadi Construction has done good work. This bridge could change your company.”
“My father built it carefully,” Emeka said.
“And you will take it further. Abuja rewards men who understand how things move.”
“How do things move?”
“Through the right channels.”
The brief pause before Dele answered stayed with Zara.
He touched her shoulder lightly.
“Enjoy the evening, Zara. Not every room needs to be investigated.”
“Some rooms make that difficult.”
Dele’s smile remained, but something behind it cooled.
He walked away.
Emeka watched him join a group of senior officials.
“He speaks about your career as if he owns part of it.”
Zara’s eyes sharpened.
“He supported my promotion.”
“That did not answer me.”
“You have known me for two minutes and already think you deserve answers.”
“I make quick decisions.”
“That explains how contractors get into trouble.”
Emeka returned with her water.
“No lemon.”
“I am impressed.”
“I had professional help.”
“From whom?”
“The bartender. It was a difficult operation.”
Their fingers touched as she accepted the glass.
The contact lasted only a second.
Zara noticed it anyway.
“So,” Emeka said, “what do you do when you are not frightening contractors?”
“I do not frighten contractors.”
“You should see your face.”
“This is my face.”
“That is unfortunate for the rest of us.”
Zara almost smiled.
Emeka caught it.
“There it is.”
“What?”
“You can smile.”
“I did not.”
“You did.”
“You imagined it.”
“I will take what I can get.”
A Ministry official called Emeka from across the hall.
Before leaving, he looked at Zara’s dress.
“Will I see you again?”
“If your paperwork is clean.”
“And if it is not?”
“Then you will see even more of me.”
His smile slowed.
“Strictly professional?”
“Especially professional.”
He walked away.
Binta, Zara’s colleague, appeared beside her.
“Who was that?”
“A contractor.”
“That contractor has shoulders.”
“He also has an active file.”
“An active file can still have shoulders.”
Zara gave her a look.
Binta lifted both hands.
“I am only confirming what God has done.”
Across the hall, Dele watched Zara laugh with her friend.
His expression revealed nothing.