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Mercenary Wife – 8

MW EPISODES

 

Simon stretched on the bed and blinked his eyes open. He had barely slept. He had found it hard to sleep after he’d returned to what he abstractedly considered his bedroom.

He pressed his fingers against his eyes as he pulled himself to sitting position. He had slept with her… had sex with her… made love to her… and he couldn’t believe that he had done it. It had started as an act of fury, a punishment. But somewhere in between his mouth devouring her mouth and his eyes beholding her naked form, it had changed and stopped being a punishment he was desperate to mete out.

What had started in fury has ended in love. For him at least, Simon thought and pushed to his feet, tossing aside the woollen cover.

She’d wanted him to stay. He’d been tempted to stay. But of course, he couldn’t. He stood in the bathroom and stared at the wall mirror. The bruise on his mouth was faded but the swelling on the lower lip was still visible. The pain on his body was still perceptible too. He had dared to come to his house; to come after his wife. Maybe he shouldn’t have fought… beat him up, Simon amended to his pride’s satisfaction. Maybe he should have had his idiot ass arrested instead.

He opened the cabinet underneath the mirror and took out the toothpaste and his toothbrush. He couldn’t have resisted pounding on the damned fool, he thought as his stomach clenched with remembered fury. He breathed purposely, lifted his toothbrush and killed off the fury as he blanked his mind and brushed his teeth.

Done, he tugged off his pyjamas and decided for a cold shower. It would further clear his thoughts.

He felt in somewhat better functioning mode when he strode out of the bathroom. She hadn’t invited him here. Now that his head was thinking clearly again, he realised she wouldn’t have been fool enough to do that. Besides, there’d been no communication between them in the last few days—he knew that. The man had come because he had wanted something. Simon felt certain, now his blind fury was gone, that that something wasn’t Richelle. At least, not entirely.

All dressed, he picked his phone and iPad and then the key he’d dumped on the night table the night before.

She was in the dining room, setting up their breakfast when he walked in. She’d taken to cooking their meals since his accident. Simon let her because he found he enjoyed her cooking—and he liked her fussing over him. She’d chosen cotton check shorts and a flared-sleeves mauve top for her morning wear. She looked cosy, natural without makeup on her face, and he suffered the pangs of desire. She looked nervous too, Simon chose to focus on that.

“Morning.” He greeted and sat down. “Had a good night?”

She sat too before she looked at him. Her eyes were searching. “Not really.”

“Pity.” He piled his plate with pancakes and picked the honey syrup. “I didn’t either.” He confessed, and wasn’t sure why he did.

“I am sorry.” Her hand seemed stuck on the pack of soy milk. “Simon—”

“Milk, please.” He purposely interrupted her. She handed him the milk pack without filling her cup, so he did it for her. “You were saying?”

“I—” She broke off and drew in a slow breath, then met his eyes. “I didn’t invite Voke here yesterday, Simon. I didn’t know he was going to come here. I didn’t even know that he knew where we lived. I was asking him to leave when you walked in.”

“You were held against him when I walked in.” Simon corrected and lifted a fork of pancake into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “Did you freely allow him to put his hands on you, Richelle?”

“No!” Her voice was emphatic and her eyes did not waver from his. “I didn’t want him touching me. I was ordering him out when he grabbed me and—”

“So, he was aggressive with you?”

“I… ah, yes.” She nodded. Then bit her lower lip. “He shouldn’t have been here. I am sorry that happened.”

“Is he blackmailing you, Richelle?”

She stared at him, unsure how to answer. Finally, she nodded again. “Yes. He wants to tell you about… about us and about me marrying you for your money.”

“He knows about your reason for marrying me, does he?” Simon felt the distinct pang—pain, anger, something else? He couldn’t tell. “He knows because you told him. You told him because you were giving him assurances that nothing would change between you two after our marriage. Am I right, Richelle?”

She didn’t speak until he arched his brows. “You are right, Simon.” Her fingers clenched on the table.

Not out of anger, Simon noted, watching her face. Shame maybe. Pain possibly. Regret, even more possibly. “I expect he got disappointed when you told him that would no more be the case when you tow saw last time.”

“He was. But I didn’t care.” Her eyes flashed with defiance. “I didn’t care whether he was disappointed or not because I didn’t care about him. I realised that day that I was stupid to have continued with him after meeting you. I realised that he was worth nothing compared to you. And I don’t mean that in terms of money.” She paused to clarify, her eyes demanding he see the truth in them. “He was a mistake I should not have made and I realised that and plainly told him this. But he decided blackmailing me would get him some of your money… which further proved his worthlessness.”

“I expect it did.” Simon found he was too entranced with her mouth, and so, he blinked and shifted his gaze to his plate. “How much is he demanding?”

“What? You’re not going to pay him, are you?”

Simon flicked up his gaze. “How much?”

“One million naira.” She finally muttered. “Simon—”

“He’s cheap. They usually start out that way.” He smoothly cut her off and cut into his pancake. “Does he have anything on you?”

“Anything on me?” Her brows drew together in a puzzled frown.

“Pictures—nude or otherwise? Video—of any kind?”

“Ah… nothing. Except text messages and a few chat messages.” She shook her head. “Nothing incriminating would be found in those either. They were about meeting arrangements and stuff like that.”

“No passionate poetic messages?”

“None.” She met his mocking stare squarely. “I didn’t feel that way towards him and there wasn’t need to pretend.”

“Unlike me with whom it was important you pretend eloquent gushes of love and affection.” He went back to eating, hating the tastelessness on his tongue and the twist of pain in his gut.

“I’m sorry.”

The quiet apology raised his head. “Funny. But somehow, I really believe you are.”

“I am. More than you will ever know.”

“It’s not…” Simon stopped himself.

He’d wanted to tell her it wasn’t her apology he wanted. If he did, then he’d have to tell her what it was he wanted. That, he didn’t want to do. Not today.

“It’s not… what?” She prompted.

“Nothing. Your pancakes are getting cold.” He nodded to her plate as he pushed back his chair. He slid out the key and held it out to her. “It’s yours.”

“What?” She stared at the single key tagged on the black steel key ring.

“A car.” Simon told her. “Reason I went out yesterday. It was supposed to be a back-from-honeymoon surprise. It arrived yesterday, a little later than planned.”

“You bought me a car?”

Simon shrugged. “It was all pre-wedding arranged.”

“And you’re still giving it to me?”

Again, he shrugged. “Car is yours.”

“No!”

Simon’s brows shot up at the vehement refusal. “What do you mean no?”

“I can’t take it.” She pushed back her chair and stood up. “I don’t deserve it. I’ve done nothing to deserve a present. Have it sent back.”

Simon studied her face. It was tilted upwards, so she could meet his gaze and the look in her eyes was stubborn, as was the angle of her chin. He looked closely and noted that she wasn’t pretending. She was dead serious.

His heart did something. Like re-settle its beats. “The car is yours, Richie.” Simon said softly, holding out the key once more.

“I’m sorry, Simon, but I can’t take it. I don’t deserve it.”

“Don’t reject my gift, Richie. That will hurt and annoy me.”

Her eyes instantly filled and when she blinked, a tear fell off. “I… thank you.” She took the key. “I’m sorry I’m so undeserving of all your kindness.” She turned.

“Richelle?”

She turned again. “Yes?”

“You’ve not eaten your breakfast.” He wanted to take her in his arms and soothe her. And kiss her. Simon wouldn’t allow himself to. Not when he was feeling this vulnerable. “I have to go to work.”

“I know.” She mumbled. “I see you’re dressed for work. Will you be back early?”

“Maybe.” Simon picked his phone and iPad. He needed to leave. “I’ll see you in the evening then.” He stopped at the end of the dining room and turned. She was still standing, watching him with eyes that were filled with regret—and pulled at him. Everyone deserves kindness, Richie. And the car wasn’t an act of kindness when I paid for it. It was an act of love.”

“Simon.”

Her voice was caught on a sob. And Simon escaped before he got caught up in something he wasn’t ready for again.

He drove to the crowded neighbourhood where Voke lived. He had had his address found out. Not today. But today, he was glad that he had. He didn’t go into the house where he owned a two-bedroom apartment. He waited outside, in his car, until he saw him coming out of the premises, then he honked his horn and beckoned to him.

After a long moment’s hesitation, Voke walked to where the Hyundai Genesis was parked and got inside through the open front passenger door.

“You are looking better than I imagined you would.” Simon said in a conversational tone, nonchalantly looking over his battered face. “You’re not going to work, are you?”

“Why are you here?” Voke grunted through split and swollen lips.

“You wanted one million naira from my wife.” Simon matter-of-factly stated.

His eyes flickered with instant surprise. “So? I demanded it for the information I have on your wife.” He gingerly touched the plastered edge of his mouth and scowled. “You don’t know the kind of wife that you married, sir.”

“I do, as a matter of fact.” Simon comfortably adjusted his body. “She was—to put it as crudely as it was—fucking you while we were dating and she told you she was marrying me for my money. That the information you have, Voke Dabunor?”

“You know?” His eyes were shocked and his swollen blistered mouth hanging open.

“Like I said, I know the kind of wife I married.” Simon turned up the side of his mouth on a smile. “Now, seeing as I possess already the information you wanted to flourish me with, doesn’t look like you have reason to demand one million naira from my wife, does it? Or do you have something else?”

“I…” he broke off and shook his head.

“Nothing?”

Again the slow shake of his head.

“That’s too bad.” Simon made a rueful tsk. “In that case, since you have nothing worth paying for, I would suggest you delete all of her messages from your phone and all other mobile devices. Here, let me help you with that as your fingers appear dreadfully swollen.” He took the Samsung tablet out of his hand and the phone of same brand from his bulging pocket. “Not quite that many. You’d expect much from a woman you’re unscrupulously screwing, right?”

“Why are you not divorcing her?”

“Hmm?” Simon looked up at his perplexed face. “Because marriage is a serious commitment, Voke Dabunor. Because real men take their commitments seriously. And because, I love my wife.” He handed back the devices. “You will stay away from her. Or next time, I won’t be so nice. Don’t take us conservative born-again types for granted. We have a knack of violently taking what is rightly ours. It’s all in obedience to God’s. You will find that sweet verse if you befriend your bible closely.” Simon jerked a nod at the still-open door. “Goodbye, Voke Dabunor, and my greetings to your Station Manager when you finally resume work.”

Voke stumbled out of the car and after another perplexed glance, hurried off.

Whistling under his breath, Simon drove off.

It was midday when Paul walked into his office. Simon was pleased to see him even if he hadn’t been expecting him.

“Something wrong with your lip?” Paul asked after initial greetings.

“Richelle and I got a little rough, I think.” Simon said with a careless grin.

Paul seemed momentarily doubtful. Then shocked. Then he laughed. “That’s allowed, I guess. So, things getting better between you two?”

“I have a lip bruise and you need to ask?” Simon teased. “Want to see nail marks on my back as more proof?”

“Actually, I was meaning things other than sex.” Paul’s eyes were scrutinising amid his smile. “You two resolved whatever was the issue?”

“We are all right, Paul, and we will continue to be.” Wanting the matter dropped, he switched subjects. “So, why are you here? Nothing needing your attention on your farms?”

It was obvious Pauls sensed his evasive tactic but he amicably responded. “Big event actually going down today. We’re harvesting three fish wells.” He grinned with the pride of a successful farmer. “Wanted to know if you’d be interested in being a part of the process.”

“You came all the way here for that when you should have called?” Simon shut off his iPad and rose. “You know I love the scooping out of fat-bellied fishes.”

“You like sinking finger-sized ones into water too.” Paul teased as they headed for the door. “But I figured you might have plenty on your plate right now to spare the time.”

“Not that plenty I’ll miss flipping out a big-boned Tilapia.” Simon countered, already anticipating the somewhat stinking but fascinating process of fish harvesting.

He made himself stay late with Paul and his crew before heading home with some of the Tilapia Paul had foisted on him. Richelle was in the living room when he strolled in.

“Welcome back.” She instantly turned down the volume of the television and got off the sofa. “You were later than I thought you would be.”

She was clad in a filmy drape-like dress and her dark full weave was brushed back from her face and down her back.

Desire punched as he held out the bucketed fish. “Paul was harvesting his fish wells and I went to help.” He’d thought to call. He’d thought to text. He’d decided against both thoughts.

“Oh.” She took the bucket. “Tilapia or cat-fish?”

“Tilapia.” The scent on her body distracted him. “Still have food for a late comer?”

“Of course.” She gestured and led the way. “I’ll just drop this in the kitchen and join you.”

Simon frowned at the double setting. “You haven’t eaten?” He asked when she returned.

“No, I was waiting for you.” She took her place and held out the covered dish. “It’s fried rice.”

“You should have eaten, Richelle. It’s past eight.”

“I wanted to wait for you.”

Simon opened his mouth, then shut it again. There was nothing to say. They ate mostly in silence except for small talk about Paul’s farm.

“I think I will watch some TV.” He said after dinner.

“Okay. I’ll join you after clearing up.”

He didn’t want her to join him. He wanted her to go to bed and leave him alone. But Simon didn’t protest when she joined him and chose to slide into the sofa, right beside him.

He flicked through channels and clutched on a Sports channel showing the replay of an old tennis match. The game ended and boring reviews started, still she stayed beside him, eyes glued to the television.

“I’ll head to bed.” He got up.

She did the same. “Me too.”

“Right. I’ll turn off the TV then.” He did and dumped the remote control. “After you.” Since she hasn’t moved a single step.

They walked silently out of the living room.

At the curb of the foyer, she grasped his hand. “Please stay with me.”

“Richelle.” His protest, if it was one, came out frustrated and raspy.

“I want you. Please.”

Simon looked into her beseeching eyes and sighed. He’d stayed out late to avoid this. He’d decided against calling her or texting to annoy her enough to avoid this.

“Why?” He demanded. “Payment for the car?”

“No!” She let go off his hand and stumbled backward. “I just wanted… never mind. Sorry I asked.”

“Richelle.” He placed a hand on her shoulder and stopped her. “I’m sorry I said that.” The hurt in her eyes stabbed at him. “I shouldn’t have. It’s just that…”

“That you don’t trust me. I know.” She blinked. “It’s okay. I know I deserve your distrust.”

“Richelle.” Simon inhaled. Need was ploughing through him like raking teeth. He drew her close. “Why? Why do you want me to stay?”

She raised her eyes to his. “Because I want you to.”

Simple. No embellishments. Eyes, naked and sincere.

He bent and kissed the corner of her mouth, because he couldn’t help himself. Turned it into a full kiss when she shuddered, leaned into him and grabbed hold.

“Say it again.” He murmured against her mouth. Wanting to hear it. Needing to hear it.

“I want you.” Her fingers curled into his sides. “I want only you, Simon.”

Hearing it, desperate to believe it, he devoured her mouth, pulling her with him as they stumbled and groped their way into the bedroom.

Simon stopped kissing her when he slapped on the light switch and simply looked at her.

Her eyes were smoky and hooded with passion as they looked back into his; and her breath came in whispery gasps through temptingly parted lips. He was hungry for her. It was hunger he felt when he thought of her, not want. He’d been hungry for her almost from the second he set his eyes on her. It had been his greatest trial having to wait until they were married before he could have her. It had been worse than a trial these past couple of weeks having her so close and not able to feast on her. And now that he’d had a taste of her, it was unbearable thinking he’d have to do without her all over again.

He wanted her. Hungered for her. And he will have her again.

Simon cupped her face and kissed her deeply. Satisfying weeks and months of desire as his mouth explored hers.

Yesterday, when he had kissed her, he had done so with forcefulness, devouring her because he couldn’t stop himself from doing so. Now he kissed her, tasted her lips, explored her tongue, with gentleness, tenderness, patience.

He wanted to own not only her body, but her mind too… and her heart. He wanted her numb with no other thought in her head but of him. He wanted her to have no other memory but of his touch, of his kisses… of him. He wanted to be her man. Her only man. And he would be. He would stamp his print on her, an indelible mark to make her completely his—body, mind and heart.

Her fingers clutched over his top button as their mouths tangled with each other.

Clasping the frenziedly unclipping fingers, Simon broke the kiss. “Tonight is only about you.” He whispered. She would have him under her spell if she touched him. And it was his spell, he wanted her under. “You really want only me, Richelle?”

He wasn’t uncertain. He wanted her to be certain beyond the merest doubt.

“Yes.” Her voice was a throaty rasp, earnest and sure.

Simon caressed her lips with his own, nibbled the lower pouty fullness and stepped forward, driving her backward. “You want my mouth on you.” He kissed her. Nipped off her trembling moan. “Want my tongue inside of you.” He entwined with her tongue, shuddering with her as desire threatened to tip over. “Want me inside of you. Buried deep inside of you.” He danced down her mouth and buried his face in the hollow of her neck.

God, he loved the scent of her!

“Yes! God, yes I do!” She bumped against the bed and crumpled into it, taking him with her.

Simon allowed himself the precious minute to savour the taste of the silky soft smoothness of her skin. He loved her neck; loved the perfect blend of soft and firm and loved even more, the heady power-surge feeling he got when he kissed her there and felt the ripple and shudder of her quivering hoarse breaths.

“Oh, Simon.” She moaned, gripped, pressed into him.

Dang! He liked her whispering her name. Only tonight he didn’t want whispers. He wanted her screaming his name.

“Say you want me, Richelle.” He brushed his body along hers, shifting when her fingers attacked him.

He skimmed his hands over her, from her belly button up to her firm, round breasts. Another part of her body, he dearly adored.

“Tell me how much you want me.” He cupped his hands over each taut nipple jutting again the thin material of her dress.

“Too much.” Her hands gripped his shirt. But they were quivering so violently, she couldn’t get a button open. “Stop with the torture, Simon, and make me yours. I want only you. So much. So much. I think I’ll die if we wait any longer.”

“Then let’s not wait.”

Simon heaved back and with his eyes on hers, seducing her, tormenting her, he very slowly started peeling off his clothes.

“Don’t!” He ordered when she heaved up to follow his suit. “Leave the dress. Getting you naked is for me to do. Told you tonight is all about you.”

When he was naked and her eyes rounded like they’d done the night before, Simon curved his mouth. “This is yours. Only yours. No one else’s but yours, Richelle. Now and forever.”

“Thank you, Lord!” She breathed and dived him, her fingers flexing as they clutched around him.

Simon’s groan growled out as he couldn’t stop it. And he couldn’t stop his hand either from squeezing her own that held him as he danced with the temptation to yield to her tantalizing strokes.

But that wasn’t for tonight. Maybe another night. Another day.

Suppressing tearing desire, Simon untangled himself and slid his hands down her sides to clutch her dress and slid it off her. His breath came quickly at the sight of her in nothing but lace bra and panties in smouldering red colour.

“You’re beautiful.  You’re so beautiful.”

He slipped his hands into the bra, cupped her breasts and sighed with the pleasure of their sheer satiny softness.

“Beautiful.” He pronounced, flicking open the front clasp of the bra and getting rid of it along with her panties.

His eyes simply ate her up. Her skin was pure honey, without blemish and all soft curves.

“I want to touch you everywhere. I want my mouth on every part of you.”

“What’s stopping you then?” She whispered.

“Nothing.”

Absolutely nothing, Simon thought and bent his head to touch first her face, kissing every feature on it. Then every limb, every angle   every curve of her body—he caressed her with hands that took knowledge of each spot of flesh and with lips that took possession of whatever they came in contact with.

Her moans went from whispery sighs to hitching grunts, and then they escalated to loud groans as his lips found their way to her core and Simon sank his tongue in between the dripping feminine mounds.

She writhed underneath his mouth and hands and her fingers clawed his back, matching their frenzy to the pitch of her cries.

When the cries dropped to low quaking gasps, Simon slid out his tongue and replacing it with his finger, waited until her eyes focused on his before he withdrew it and slid backward into his mouth.

“Simon.” Her voice was a deep purr.

He leaned down and kissed her mouth. “Say my name.”

“Simon.”

He wanted more than her throaty whisper. “Say it again. I want my name on your lips as I take you. Whisper it. Moan it. Groan it. Scream it. Say my name.” He inched up her hips and thrust into her with one powerful stroke.

“Simon!” She arched to meet him, clutching his shoulders. Her eyes were pools of passion. Of wonder. Of a hunger for more. “Simon. Simon. Simon.”

She was his. He felt it. Saw it in her eyes. She belonged to him now.

“One more time, Richie. Say my name.”

“Simon.” Her palms framed his face. “There’s only you, Simon.”

“And there will always be only me. Just you and me, Richelle.” He took her legs, locked them about his waist and started working his thrusts.

She writhed, arched and matched his pace.

And his name was the last word on her lips before he collapsed on top of her.

Simon allowed himself a moment to hold her and sniff her in before he rolled to his back.

She clasped his arm. “Stay. I want you to.”

Her eyes were satisfied, sleepy and soft. He wanted to stay with her. Tonight, he didn’t want to lie alone and cold without her.

Simon rolled back on his back and tugged her closer to cradle her head on his chest. His heart hitched at having her there, like he’d always dreamed. He wanted to tell her he loved her; to just whisper it to her. But he stopped himself. Not yet.

He dragged the covers over them and punched out the light.

“Simon?”

“Hmm?”

“There has never been any like you. Not even one.”

His stomach clenched. His heart missed one beat. And then the whole of him relaxed. “Sleep, Richie.”

“Okay.”

And she went to sleep in minutes. He didn’t sleep for a long time as he listened to her soft breathes, loving her.

***

Had a good read? Let us hear your feedback then. Cheers.

Dedication: For all December Celebrants. Love, Long-Life & Prosperity.

***

Power still not back. Charged devices at office attached to our building. It’s all too tedious. Battery too weak to hold out. Working triple ways–paper, phone, laptop. Frustrating! This hellhole called a country is messed up.

Tomorrow’s episode still on by 6pm.

*eBook Purchase made easier! Via: *RECHARGE CARD PINS!*

38 Responses to Mercenary Wife – 8

  1. Dhebra says:

    Wow, I’m glad things are getting back to normal.

  2. Jeffrey Jamez says:

    That’s how TM will make somebody lose celibacy ehn!! Lol… I think Rachelle is a good girl that just had her head filled with wrong ideas.

    Nice one TM…

  3. Cleo says:

    wow! !! this is how I am dreaming Simon as my husband. I need me a Simon. I love to love. Lord please send me my lover.
    nice one on forgiveness and marriage

  4. Marnie Jerimiah says:

    All I can say is thanks TM

  5. Abayomi Oluwatosin says:

    Really love the story and your writing. I know how frustrating it is to have your devices charged in this messed up country.
    Thank you for a good job.

  6. favour says:

    Thanks TM

    Nigeria our country

  7. jojodia says:

    Hmm, this was off the hook. I so love this episode. Thanks a lot TM.

    This is the 9th day without light in my area….so freaking frustrating.

  8. Gift says:

    Is anyone feeling the heat in here,TM wants to kill somebody o,thanks alot,I really really really love this episode mehn,thank u soo much also for going out of your way to get this done for us,your efforts are very much appreciated

  9. Iyke David says:

    Love covers a multitude of sins!
    Thanks so much,we appreciate you!

  10. Mammy says:

    My lips are sealed!

  11. Zinnie says:

    Oh Lord, please deliver my body from the fire this episode has set on it.
    Chai! I’ll love to love and beloved oh, My Simon should show face already.

    About phcn matter, I can relate with you cos all we get down here is epileptic power…five minutes on and two days off, very frustrating. Thanks for always thing of us even in such condition, I appreciate you.

    • Zinnie says:

      Oh Lord, please deliver my body from the fire this episode has set on it.
      Chai! I’ll love to love and beloved oh, My Simon should show face already.

      About phcn matter, I can relate with you on that cos all we get down here is epileptic power supply…five minutes on and two days off, very frustrating. Thanks for always thing of us even in such condition, I appreciate you.

  12. Ego says:

    Thank God Simon is coming around. Richelle better play your own part well. Thanks TM you are d best

  13. Ella mum says:

    The power if love. All is well again. Well-done TM. We appreciate u.

  14. Unique Ell' says:

    Wow!TM………….. No put person body on fire oooo,hubby no dey to calm down the fire oooo! Thanks Ma’am! God’s blessings continously!

  15. Tosin says:

    Aww, love covers multitude of sins. I am so glad that things are looking up for Simon and Richie.
    Thanks Madam TM, sorry about the PHCN issue, I guess its all over the country. May God save us.

  16. mady says:

    Hmmm… Dunno wah 2 say, just speechless
    Tnks TM, u jst made ma morning

  17. Roselyn says:

    Chaiiiiiii! TM, pity my poor soul oooooo! I so love what I just read. Thanks ma’am got all your love and sacrifice towards us all. May you be doubly blessed my TM.

  18. Gloria says:

    Tnx a lot TM 4 posting despite d phcn wahala. God bless u.

  19. Pacesetter says:

    Thanks ma’am. Love covers multitude of sins

  20. Toyenlon says:

    Good to see Simon gradually warming up to Richie. Thanks TM.

  21. Doyinsola says:

    Wonderful, weldone ma’am.

  22. Patience Bassey says:

    I know Richie is grateful for a second chance

  23. abi says:

    chai!!! TM yaff killed me o….c heat for harmattan abeg
    kudos TM

  24. The power ish is something else and seem to be everywhere.
    I appreciate your sacrifice dear TM.
    Thank goodness for Richie change of heart.

  25. frances says:

    Thank you TM for making us believe in hope. Hmmmmmmmm tempted to sing ‘I NEED A SIMON” already singing and smiling in d office with pp wondering if I av gone gaga on my desk.
    Richelle I envy u no be small, beta hold am well or else I go finish u frm here.

  26. Paula says:

    Fans self frantically, while blushing.

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