Hidden Pleasure

IMANI POV

"There are five thousand six hundred reasons why a woman should be married by 26...with two to three kids already." Mom uttered as she raised her fingers before I could argue, I stared at her fingers, then at her beautiful face.

There's one thing about Mrs. Evelyn Lerato, no one argues with her, especially not so early in the morning. She's ready to bring down the house, so we all just agree to whatever she has to say without saying a word.

"Five thousand six hundred reasons? Really, mom?" I asked, as I sat down for breakfast.

"You children of this generation, you think you know everything about love, which is totally stupid!" she snapped, frowning, and I bit my lower lip to stop myself from bursting into fits of laughter.

"Good morning, baby," Dad greeted her, as he kissed her gently on the lips.

"Tell your daughter to grow up, Mandla, she is so disobedient and would not listen to what I have to say," she said dramatically.

"Mom, I'm listening." I said, and she raised her eyebrows.

"What did I say then?" She asked, pointing her wooden spoon at me, and Dad took a slice of bread from the table.

"That there are five thousand six hundred reasons why a twenty six year old should be married with kids, that's it," I said, and she scoffed.

"Did you take some bread? Mandla, we haven't prayed. Why do you go to church when you always forget to pray before eating?" she asked, and Dad paused eating.

"I'm sure I'm covered by all your numerous prayers, from church to those prayer meetings you attend," Dad said, and that did it. I threw my head backwards as I laughed crazily.

"I should have married that rich man that came asking for my hand in marriage those years, at least, you would have grown old as a single man," she said, pointing at Dad, who stifled a laugh.

"You've said that throughout our 30th years of marriage, and yet you would've chosen me with your eyes closed. You love me, just admit it," Dad said, her cheeks heated in a blush.

I rolled my eyes at their early morning display of love, my eyes moved to my watch. I'm supposed to report to work by 8:30, nothing more than that.

"Imani dear," my mom trailed, as she sat next to me.

"You know how much I love you, right? Both your siblings are happily married. Anna got married at twenty, and your brother is also married." she stated, and I sighed in frustration.

"Mom, marriage is not the measure of success." I countered her words immediately, and Dad nodded in agreement.

"She is talking back at me, Mandla, dear, your daughter just beat me up," she said dramatically, and I stared at her in amusement.

"Mom, I didn't..." I trailed, and she cut me off dramatically.

"Raising your voice at me, is like slapping me in the face," she said, and I took a deep breath in and out.

"I'm sorry," I breathed out before I could stop myself.

"I'm doing this because I love you. My good friend's son is coming over this weekend, and we thought..." She trailed.

"No, not another blind date, mommmm, you are my mother, you're not supposed to matchmake me, it's so weird," I complained.

"Listen, baby girl, this is the time you are supposed to be married. You know time waits for no one. By the time you're 30, a man becomes your prayer point, but God forbid, you won't let it get to that level before you get married," she said dramatically.

"Amen, but I'm not going on a blind date," I declared, and she rubbed her forehead.

"I think I need to fast and pray about this, my love," she turned to Dad, who chuckled in return. We were already used to her drama anyway.

"I am absolutely fine, mum. There's nothing wrong with me. You fell in love with my dad and married him, why can't I do the same?" I asked, frowning.

"Because your eyes have refused to open your eyes to the love walking around everywhere," she said, and my jaws literally dropped.

"A woman is like a perishable fruit, dear, the longer it stays, the more perishable it becomes." she quoted the lines from her favourite book.

"You know what's fine... I'd meet this man you're talking about, but if it doesn't work out, you'd stop," I demanded, and she smirked.

"Fine," she said, and I sighed softly. I don't need a soothsayer to tell me I knew she wouldn't keep to her words.

"Stay for breakfast, baby," she said immediately she noticed I wanted to leave the table.

"I have thirty minutes before I get to work, mom." I muttered and kissed both sides of her cheeks.

"You are way too stubborn, young woman," she sighed, I chuckled as I made my way out of our house while checking my bag for my car keys.

Driving towards my office, my mind went back to what just happened in the house. I sighed immediately. 'Since when did marriage become the measure of success?' I thought.

It's not like I should just jump on any guy that's available because I want to get married.

Relationships so far haven't worked for me. My high school boyfriend wanted to move to Stanford, and we broke things off because, well, I couldn't do a long distance relationship.

It's not just my thing, I can't be in cape town, and the man I'm dating is in another country, even another city. I can't imagine, I thought, then sighed again.

A few hours away is fine, I guess, but well, I'm scared of relationships; it has never worked for me. I know I'm the one at fault because I always cut things off before they got pretty serious, and now my mom has taken the job upon herself to find me a husband. Who the hell does that? I wondered with a frown.

"I should avoid going to the family house for a while," I muttered under my breath.

I'm from an average family, we are not poor, and we are not exactly super rich, we are just among the average ones. Dad works for a law firm, and mom owns a restaurant. I have two siblings, my older sister Anna, who is happily married, and my older brother Henry. He got married not long before I finished college, and that's what makes mom think I'm possessed since I'm not even dating anyone yet.

I'm a graduate, and for a year and six months I've been working with Delgado Constructions, one of the largest construction companies in the world. It's owned by the rich Spanish family, the Delgado's.

I happen to work for the branch here in cape town. The work environment is conducive, and my boss. I breathed out immediately at the thought of Mr. Delgado.

I've never met anyone as serious as that man in my life. He doesn't talk much; he's always quiet, and the most frustrating part is his workaholic nature. Mr. Leonardo Delgado, the CEO of Delgado Constructions.

The man travels around the world; one moment he is here, and the next, he is somewhere else. I can't say he's a bad boss, he's not someone I should tag as arrogant anyway. He's just there, he hates unserious people and fires anyone who doesn't take their jobs seriously.

I've been working on the top floor for almost two years now, and I don't think the man knows I exist. Technically, he knows I exist but pretends I don't.

Packing my car at the car pack, I rushed out and straightened my pencil skirt, then straightened out my blazers properly. My hair was tied in a neat ponytail. I picked up my handbag and rushed inside the tall Skyscraper building, which had the initials D&L Constructions, I hung my name tag quickly as I greeted the receptionist.

"My sweet potato, girl, I thought you'd be coming late today," Mrs. Emily, my senior colleague, teased as I rushed towards my office, I turned around and chuckled.

"I still have 5 minutes before I'm late. Is the boss in?" I asked, and she shook her head.

"The stars are in your favour. I'm sure he's not, break a leg" she said, and I raised my eyebrows.

"Oh, silly girl, it means good luck, now run along," she gestured with her hand, and I turned towards the elevator. I typed in my floor number, then checked my watch again. Immediately I got into my office and breathed out in relief.

"It's going to be a long day," I muttered under my breath.

I stared at my computer screen and then at the files on my table. Surprisingly, Mr. Delgado did not walk past my office as usual.

Maybe he's out of the country, I thought as my mind drifted to his beautiful Spanish accent, those blue eyes, his calm, quiet nature, and the way the man could pretend we weren't standing in front of him. I wonder what goes on in his mind.

He had striking features, jet black hair, a face that could hold a person's gaze, and the way he carried himself, I rubbed my forehead.

"He should be arrested for looking so good," I muttered under my breath, and my office line rang immediately.

"Hello, Imani Lerato from Delgado Constructions speaking," I speak in one breath.