Hello, lovelies and butterflies. In ten days Trophy Wife will be out in the world. I can't wait for you to meet Nero and his Ifem and the rest of the Yadili characters both old and new favourites. Expect passion and intrigue. These are grown folks, my people.
In the meantime, read a sample chapter right here.
You can also preorder your copy via links here.
Enjoy the chapter.
TWO
“Girl, you are free. Finally!” Nkoli’s words sent a wash of liberation over Ifeoma’s body as they clicked their wine glasses together in celebration.
Soft jazzy music played through hidden speakers in the hotel bar lounge, low enough for people to have conversations and laughter.
Her lungs expanded as she sucked in a deep breath. “Eziokwu, I am free at last. O bụghị obere ife.” It’s not a small thing.
On vacation for a month, she’d travelled across the Middle East, Asia and Europe, determined to see as much of the globe—the northern hemisphere—as possible. She’d arrived in Rome a few hours ago and would fly back to Nigeria in a few days.
She’d become friends with Nkoli at university when they’d pledged to the Yadi sorority. They’d remained close friends through the years, although they lived on different continents now—Ifeoma in Africa and Nkoli in Europe.
“It’s not a small thing at all,” Nkoli spoke with an amused gleam in her eyes. She raised the glass of sparkling prosecco. “Considering you’ve been divorced for over twenty years.”
Ifeoma leaned into her chair at the corner table. “Nwanne, o di kwa egwu o.” Sis, it’s truly amazing.
They burst into laughter, loud and joyous, probably drawing attention, but Ifeoma didn’t care. They were middle-class, middle-aged, professional women who looked well and dressed well, with successful high-flying careers.
Ifeoma, as an educator, now ran her own private school franchise as the principal and proprietor, while Nkoli headed an international NGO as Chief Executive.
Although they were divorcees, both had raised children who were now young adults. Hence, their lives were pretty much their own these days.
“But Ifeoma, on a serious note,” Nkoli leaned closer, putting her elbows on the table separating them as they faced each other. She lowered her voice. “What do you really think about Maddox getting married again? Because I know how much you resented that he never came to beg for you to come back after you left him.”
As the question sank in, a sombre feeling washed over her, causing her to stop and contemplate.
Her friend wasn’t wrong.
Fed up with the responsibility of raising a baby alone while her husband fought in a war, she left her marital home and move back to her parent’s house. She had married at a young age, in her mid-twenties, and it wasn’t until the loneliness struck that she truly grasped the challenges of being a military wife. Although she was never far from her family or his, she despised her husband’s frequent absences. Adding to the challenge, when he came home during those days, she would intentionally start arguments with Maddox, causing their time together to be anything but enjoyable.
One day, after he’d returned to the frontline, she’d packed up and returned to her father’s house with her baby. Maddox returned home. However, when he finally found her at her parents’ house, she met him with an unexpected revelation: she wanted a divorce.
What she longed to hear from him was that he would sacrifice his military career. That he would go to great lengths just to have her back in his life. That he would follow her to the ends of the earth.
Instead, his reply had been an unexpected and soul-crushing “Okay,” leaving her stunned.
Once he left, she retreated to the solace of her bedroom, tears streaming down her face as his heartbreaking reply echoed in her mind. The threat of divorce was merely a test she had employed against him. It was probably the most foolish thing she had ever done, and she regretted it.
Realising her mistake, she could have sought him out to offer an explanation. However, her stubbornness was both a strength and a weakness, defining her character. She was determined not to beg him, especially since he had already agreed to divorce her.
The lingering resentment she felt towards him persisted for years.
After a while, she couldn’t sustain the resentment because she realised she had played an equal part in the divorce as Maddox. In all fairness, he was a responsible man who always fulfilled his obligations. Raising their son, Abuchi, together, they flourished as co-parents, fostering a strong bond and instilling important values in him. Maddox and his family, despite the divorce, remained a strong support system for her. He not only paid for the house she currently lived in but also gifted her a partial school franchise, thanks to his mother’s kind contribution.
At one point when Maddox left active military service and set up his own security firm, she entertained the idea of them reconciling. Neither of them had engaged in serious relationships or remarried. Her close ties to his family led others to believe they would reconcile.
However, the lingering issues from their troubled marriage would persist. Maddox, a steadfast protector, played a crucial role in their community. He was constantly on call, ready to assist anyone who required his help, and he frequently journeyed to different destinations. He would never be fully present for her.
“My sister, you’re right,” she finally answered. “There was a time when I resented him and hoped he would come back to beg me. But the truth is, I was being self-centred. Maddox is great at his job. The Umudike community, both home and abroad, needs his expertise. It was selfish and foolish of me to ever want him to quit it. He would have probably been miserable doing anything else. Now I wish him all the best. He’s happy with his new wife. Zoe is a handful, but he seems more patient, more tolerant with her.”
“He’s in love,” Nkoli said tentatively, as if not wanting to hurt Ifeoma’s feeling.
“Yes, he is.” Ifeoma’s throat locked tight briefly, and she had to force air into her lungs again. “I’ve met her. She loves him too.”
Nkoli reached across and gently placed her hand over Ifeoma’s, offering tremendous comfort. “And we must find you someone who loves you with the fierceness you deserve.”
“Me, kwa.” Ifeoma shook off the melancholy with humour. “I’m not interested in finding anyone. I mean, do you know how long it’s been for both of us? We must be rusted or something.”
Both women burst into laughter again.
“Speak for yourself o. Me, I have someone who oils my engine and keeps my motor running on a regular basis.” Her friend preened.
“Eziokwu? So quick? You kept this hidden. Tell me more. Who is this person? Where did you meet? I want the full gist.” Ifeoma giggled.
Nkoli had recently gone through a divorce just five years ago. Her husband had been secretly involved with a woman from his workplace. Upon discovering the truth, they attempted to mend their relationship. Nevertheless, she couldn’t have complete faith in her husband of twelve years again. He’d shattered her self-esteem, leaving her feeling inadequate. With this understanding, she took the steps to initiate a divorce.
Half a decade later and it seemed Nkoli had found her confidence to date again.
“His name is Lorenzo, and we were introduced at a charity event about a year ago.”
“Lorenzo? Onye ocha?”
“Yes, he’s Italian. A businessman and widower with grown children.”
“How old is he?”
“Fifty-eight.”
This meant Lorenzo was older that Nkoli by ten years.
“Wow. So, tell me. How is he, you know?” Ifeoma winked.
“Lorenzo is a total gentleman with me in the streets. But he’s an absolute freak between the sheets.”
They burst into more laughter.
“Seriously, you need a man like him in your life.”
Ifeoma opened her mouth to argue, but Nkoli waved her off.
“I’m not saying you should remarry. I’m just saying you should get someone who oils your engine every now and again.”
“But where is the time for all that? Between running the school and Abuchi—”
“Abuchi is living his own life. He lives with his father when he’s not at university and you only see him for a few weeks a year. So don’t use my godson as your excuse for not getting laid.”
Ifeoma laughed because her friend was calling bullshit on her. One reason they got on so well. Nkoli always spoke the truth to her.
True talk, she was afraid to get involved in another relationship because she would never get someone who would love her the way she needed to be loved. Someone who wouldn’t give up on her because she was being too difficult.
And she was a troublesome person, stubborn and set in her ways.
Who would want to put up with her? Best to stay single.
She had money, family, friends, and her career. She didn’t need a man.
“Ciao, NK.”
Ifeoma glanced sideways at the sound of her friend’s nickname.
A smartly dressed Caucasian man with dark hair interspersed with grey caught their attention as he approached their table. A Black man, dressed sharply in a navy suit and black shirt, walked alongside him. They exuded confidence, and their impeccably tailored clothes told a story of refinement.
“Lorenzo!” With a gasp of surprise, Nkoli rose to her feet. “What are you doing here?”
They embraced tightly, and he planted a gentle kiss on both of her cheeks.
So, this was the famous Lorenzo.
Ifeoma watched as her friend’s eyes lit up at the sight of the dapper silver fox, understanding the allure he possessed.
“I’m here to meet a friend.” Lorenzo turned, motioning towards the man standing beside him. “This is Nero. Nero, this is NK.”
“Nice to meet you,” Nero said as he shook hands with Nkoli and kissed her three times on the cheeks.
“Nice to meet you, too. And this is my friend, Ify,” Nkoli introduced, saying her shortened name to sound like Izzy, which was how Europeans pronounced it.
Straightening up from the chair, Ifeoma became the centre of attention as everyone’s gaze turned towards her.
“NK has spoken highly of you,” Lorenzo said, warmly shaking her hand and planting three kisses on her cheeks.
“Thank you. She said wonderful things about you, too,” Ifeoma said with a smile.
“And this is my friend.” He patted Nero on the shoulder.
Ifeoma turned towards him, her heart racing, as he reached out his hand to her. She placed her hand in his to shake him. A jolt of electricity seemed to travel up her arm, causing a frisson to run down her body.
In his custom-made suit and raven-black dress shirt, he exuded an air of sin and sophistication.
Their eyes locked, and a shiver ran down her spine, causing the hairs on the back of her neck to stand on end. He had an intense aura, radiating darkness and mystery.
A surge of exhilaration coursed through her, causing her stomach to flutter.
Completely entranced, she could not avert her gaze. The bar, along with its lively atmosphere and familiar faces like Nkoli and Lorenzo, momentarily disappeared. They stood there, hand in hand, gazed locked, transcending time.
Her heart fluttered, as if awakened by some unseen force.
A distant recollection, buried deep in the recesses of her mind.
A name danced on the tip of her tongue.
A familiarity teasing her with its elusiveness.
A moniker belonging to a ghost.
She scrunched up her face, deep in thought, but the memory remained frustratingly out of reach.
“Ify, are you okay?”
The sound of her name snapped her out of the dream-like state, bringing her back to the bustling atmosphere of the bar.
“Yes, I’m fine,” she replied with a slight tremor in her voice. She quickly withdrew her hand, feeling a sudden jolt of unease. It had been a while since she’d encountered such an unusual response to a man.
“Do you mind if we join you?” Lorenzo asked, his eyes darting back and forth between the two women.
Nkoli’s eyebrow arched as she gazed at Ifeoma, silently questioning her. If she disagreed, she knew her friend would promptly dismiss the men. Nevertheless, she didn’t want to rob Nkoli of the chance to enjoy Lorenzo’s company. Her friend was evidently smitten by the man.
“I don’t mind,” she replied nonchalantly, shrugging her shoulders.
Nkoli cheered and took a seat beside Ifeoma at the four-seat table.
The men occupied the seats directly across from them. Lorenzo facing Nkoli, with Nero opposite Ifeoma.
Swallowing nervously, Ifeoma’s heart pounded and her hand grew clammy. Her body's reaction suggested she had never encountered an attractive man before.
What was happening to her?
🌺 BLURB 🌺
He needs her to elevate his status. But she will be his downfall.
Finally, Ifeoma is ready to fully embrace the freedom of singlehood. Her ex-husband has moved on and remarried, and her son has flown the nest. With the intention of self-discovery, she embarks on a worldwide adventure, determined to fulfil three items on her wish-list: to experience pure joy, to find laughter in every corner, and to revel in her own sensuality.
Then she meets Nero, a mysterious Black Italian whose charm captivates her instantly. And for twenty-four hours he fulfils every item on her wish-list. But he wants more, more than she’s willing to give. So, she ends it and goes home.
Months later, Nero turns up in Nigeria, more detached and ruthless than the man she remembers, intent on destroying her family business and legacy. And only one thing will quench his bloody feud—Ifeoma as his trophy wife.
Still Ifeoma is a titled woman who isn’t easy to control, if she can keep Nero out of her bed—the one place his passion burns hotter than a forge at dawn, consuming her restraint.
Trophy Wife is book 6 in the Yadili series. In this enemies-to-lovers romance, the air crackles with tension and the chemistry between the characters is scorching hot, creating a story that will leave you breathless. Themes include unrequited love, he falls first, touch her and die, forced proximity, and the intoxicating darkness of a mafia romance. A full-length novel. No cliffhanger.
Preorder your copy now from:
Selar: https://selar.co/ax219p
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