THE CAR PULLED over at her father's house and she couldn't help but stare at the building she'd grown up in for the past twenty one years.

Everything was exactly as she had left it; the colour splash on the wall, the flower pots beside two huge pillars, the neat compound-It was as neat as her father.

The woman at the back seat of the car, sighed mentally and she rubbed her temples with her left hand, trying to soothe and rid herself of the anger that seemed to be brewing fast.

"Madam, we have arrived,” the voice of her driver tore through her thoughts like a hot blade.

"I'm not blind,” she sneered, not even batting an eye at him. Rather, her gaze were transfixed at the cars parked in the compound.

One was familiar; the plate numbers to be precise. The other was not.

Are there important guests in the house or did her siblings manage to crawl back to the nest? She scowled at her thoughts.

Neither seemed like a good reason for her father to call her from work.

Tearing her eyes from the scene, she directed her attention to her driver and immediately furrowed her brows at his height.

While she remembered firing her previous driver—he had made her wait an extra 3 minutes after a long day at work–she couldn't remember hiring this one.

"When did you start working for me?" she mumbled and reached for her black Hermes birkin bag.

"Yesterday, Ma,”

She paused.

Ma? Who did he think she was? His grandmother?

She rolled her eyes and caught his gaze in the rearview mirror. His brown eyes met hers and for a while there, she felt disgusted.

"Did Patricia fill you in on the things I expect from you?" she looked away and fished out her phone.

"No Ma,”

That's it!

She whipped her her head up and held his gaze in the mirror. "I don't want you to call me that. I'm your boss, not your mother.”

He averted his gaze, lowering his head.

"Ms. Ivonne is your only option. If not, you're fired,” he turned back immediately, surprise and disbelief fully settled on his brows. He opened his mouth to speak but she beat him to it.

"You will not speak unless spoken too. Whatever I discuss in the car-on the phone or with someone in here- is purely confidential, I must not hear it outside. You will turn a blind eye to my work and my private life…” she paused and he nodded, turning back to the steering wheel.

"I can see that you're elderly," she announced. "...maybe in your late forties or fifties or whatever. Old people like to think they’re ‘experienced’ and try to give ‘advice’ and all that bullocks!" she rolled her eyes dramatically.

"But when you're with me, you will swallow all that. I don't need advice from anyone, much less a driver,” there was no way one could miss the tone of disgust in her last words.

"Your job is simple: drive,” the irony of this was that she couldn't drive. It just wasn't her thing.

She was yet to find a teacher who would not flirt with, annoy, frustrate, or bore her. She even tried females and discovered that was a no-go too.

Her gender had terrible mood swings and some would even dare raise their voices at her.

Big mistake. One call to the agency and they would end up crying at her gate.

Stupid!

Then there were the ones that were calm. Too calm for her liking. They either tried to start a conversation with her or tried to cheer her up by telling horrible jokes and making goofy faces.

Fortunately, her best friend intervened by getting a 'hot' guy to teach her how to drive.

But unfortunately, he wasn't Ivonne's kind of hot, he was her best friend’s kind of guy; Fair, spotless skin, average height, huge-and she meant huge-biceps, rock-hard abs, and a huge tattoo that ran down his back to the band of his pants.

How did she know this? Because he was topless, like, the entire time.

When Ivonne eventually got the police to get him off her property, her bestie got at it again.

This time she hired a brown-skinned man. High cheekbones, brown eyes, small lips. He had wide shoulders and chiseled a torso that women don't just notice, but grab.

But not her. Not Ivonne Johnson who would rather spend twenty four hours in her office than have a man flirt with her.

He didn't flirt though. Thankfully, he had a ring on his finger, but his fiancé was a total pain in the ass. She called every five seconds asking ‘where are you?’

It was so much that they couldn’t make it past two days before he quit. Apparently, she thought he was getting down with some other girl.

Shaking the memories out of her head, she continued, “Punctuality is also necessary when you work for me. If you're even a minute late, you're fired, no two ways about that." she sighed "However, you do get days off every Saturday and Sunday. If you're having health issues, I'll let my doctor see you and no it's not coming out of your paycheck" she finished with snake-like shake of her head.

Her father's words rang in her head, "I need to see you now. We have something very important to discuss.” and here she was wasting her time with a driver.

Taking out her phone, she proceeded to open the door of her car "Wait here,” he gave a nod but didn't say anything.

Good. Too much talking pissed her off anyways.

The sun beamed down hard on her back and she winced as she walked quickly. Her heels hitting the floor, announcing her arrival with every step.

Out of habit, she ran her hands down her tight black skirt paired with a pink-white striped top. She was already regretting her clothing choice and was about to lose her mind if she didn’t get from under the sun!

Not bothering to slow down to knock, she barged in and her nose caught the sweet aroma that lingered in the air. Her stomach rumbled, wanting a piece of what the nose had perceived.

One of the joys of living in her father's house was that they had toe curling food that could rip an orgasm out of you. The chef was skilled and knew just the right amount of things.

Her Mother didn't enter the kitchen much, so Ivonne never learnt how to cook from her, but from Chef Elvis.

A man in his sixties by now. He had actually threatened to never make a sponge cake ever again unless she let him teach her the ways around a kitchen and looking back at it now, it was worth it.

She turned her attention to the noise coming from the dining table and headed there. The voices all too familiar.

She might as well turn back now knowing that they were people she didn't want to see, but her feet didn't stop.

She emerged from the side and stopped just in front of the dining section. Her siblings were obviously enjoying their mother's company as neither seemed to notice her.

Not wanting to intrude- plus she was in a hurry to see her father-she turned to leave.

"Amaka?" came a voice she knew too well. She turned to face her elder brother David and tried not to glare at him for using her native name.

"Well,well,well, look what the cat dragged in,” now this one, this voice, belonged to someone she loathed.