It has been three weeks since Tammy spoke to Femi or Setto.
She had lived in a bubble of fabric, sketches, and scriptures, purposefully ignoring the blinking light on her phone.
She had seen the text from Femi’s mother
“Tammy, we need to talk. This is not how we behave in our family” and had felt a flare of that old fire.
She nearly blocked the woman, her thumb hovering over the red button, before she remembered Pastor Ade’s voice:
“Don’t react in anger; respond in peace.”
She simply archived the message and went back to her sewing machine.
The day of Dr. Amina Bello’s grand birthday gala finally arrived, draping Lagos in a golden, humid haze.
Tammy stood in her room, staring at the dress Valerie had created for her.
While Tammy was the visionary stylist who could pull a whole look together from a single button, Valerie was the magician of the needle.
The dress was a masterpiece in burnt orange silk and hand-pierced bronze lace. It clung to Tammy’s body with a respectful precision, the neckline high and regal, but the back dropping into a sophisticated ‘V’ that showed off her glowing skin.
“Omo, Valerie, you really tried with this one o,” Tammy whispered, tracing the embroidery.
“Abeg, stop talking and let me zip you up!” Valerie shouted from the living room.
“We are already behind schedule, and Lagos traffic does not care about you!”
Tammy laughed, stepping out into the parlor.
Valerie was already dressed in a deep emerald green floor-length gown that made her look like a forest queen.
Purity had left for Benin Republic two days prior for an emergency business meeting, so it was just the two of them ready to storm the most exclusive event in the city.
As they climbed into the back of the car, the air conditioning providing a blessed relief from the afternoon heat, the conversation immediately pivoted to the one thing Tammy had been holding in.
“Val, you don’t understand,” Tammy said, leaning her head back against the leather seat.
“Yesterday at the final fitting with Dr. Amina, I almost lost it. If not for the Holy Spirit and the fact that I really respect that woman, I would have packed my bags and left.”
Valerie adjusted her earring, frowning.
“Was it that Koda girl again? What did she do this time?”
“Everything!” Tammy groaned.
“She sat there with her nose in the air, acting like the lace we picked was beneath them. She actually told me in front of her mother that the beadwork looked ‘cluttered.’ Cluttered, Val! I spent nights hand-picking those crystals!”
“God forbid,” Valerie hissed.
“That girl has a spirit of pride, I’m telling you. Even the day I went with you for the measurements, the way she was looking at us like we were some roadside tailors... I wanted to tell her that my brand is international o!”
“Exactly,” Tammy sighed.
“She kept trying to provoke me. She’d ask if I was sure I could handle the reception dress change-over, or if I needed ‘professional help’ from their stylists in London. I was boiling, Val. My hands were literally shaking. But then I looked at Dr. Amina. She just sat there, so calm, watching her daughter with this look of pity.
“And then Setto’s kid brother walked in. He’s so different, very quiet and respectful. I just took a deep breath and reminded myself that I wasn’t doing this for Koda. I’m doing this for the woman who birthed the man I’m...”
She trailed off, her cheeks heating up.
“The man you’re what?” Valerie teased, poking her in the ribs.
“Finish your sentence, oga stylist! The man you’ve been avoiding for three weeks? The man I am dying to see today? Tammy, if this Setto does not live up to the hype you’ve been giving him in your head, I will be so disappointed.”
“He’s not hype, Val,” Tammy said softly, her voice losing its edge.
“He’s just... he’s different. Even during the fitting, he didn’t come in. He sent a message to his mom asking if ‘the stylist’ was being treated well. He’s honoring the break I asked for, even when his sister is being a devil.”
“Hmm. We shall see,” Valerie said, checking her makeup in a small mirror.
“I want to see the man that made a whole Tammy lose her appetite. But first, let’s talk about this reception dress. I hope she really love it?”
“It’s breathtaking,” Tammy smiled.
“That ivory and gold piece you made for her... when she put it on, she looked like a literal queen mother. She’s so happy with it. She told me I’m the first person in years who understood her silhouette without trying to make her look ‘too young’ or ‘too old.’ She felt like herself.”
“That’s the goal,” Valerie nodded.
“That’s why we do this.”
As the car pulled up to the luxury event center in Victoria Island, the scale of the Bello influence became clear.
The entrance was flanked by towering floral arrangements of white hydrangeas and pampas grass, illuminated by soft, golden spotlights.
They stepped out, and for a moment, Tammy just stood there, taking it in.
This wasn’t just a party; it was a kingdom.
The theme was clearly “Royalty and Grace,” but there was a deeply spiritual undertone.
As they walked through the foyer, Tammy noticed beautifully calligraphed glass panels standing on marble plinths.
Instead of just seating charts, they were inscribed with scriptures.
One stood out to her immediately:
But ye are a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, an holy nation...
“Look at that,” Valerie whispered, pointing to the ceiling where thousands of crystals hung like a canopy of stars.
“The attention to detail is insane. It’s like they brought heaven to Lagos.”
The ballroom was draped in rich creams and deep golds.
Every table featured a centerpiece that looked like a work of art, and the air was filled with a bespoke fragrance of sandalwood and jasmine.
It was regal, expensive, and yet strangely peaceful.
“Aunty Tammy!”
She turned and saw Chioma waving frantically from near the stage.
Chioma was wearing a simple but elegant shift dress Tammy had styled for her, looking every bit the professional assistant.
“Ma! Everything is set for the dress change! Dr. Amina is in the VIP lounge, she’s already asking for you,” Chioma said, her eyes wide with the excitement of being in such a high-society space.
“Okay, breathe, Chioma,” Tammy laughed.
“Val, stay here, grab a drink. I need to go check on the birthday girl before the grand entrance.”
“Go, go,” Valerie waved her off.
“I’ll be right here, scouting the room for the mysterious Mr. Setto. Don’t worry, I’ll find him before you do!”
As Tammy walked through the crowd, she felt a thousand eyes on her.
She was used to it. She was the woman who had styled the woman of the hour. But today, her gaze was searching for only one person.
Every time a tall man in a well-tailored agbada walked by, her heart stuttered.
Every time she smelled the faint scent of oud in the air, she turned her head.
Three weeks of silence had sharpened her hunger to see him.
She wanted to know if the peace she had found in her room would hold up when she was standing face-to-face with the man who had caused the storm.
She pushed through the velvet curtains into the VIP lunge.
The air in the changing suite was thick with the scent of hairspray, expensive floral perfumes, and the nervous energy that always precedes a grand entrance.
Tammy moved with practiced precision, her fingers steady as she made final adjustments to the ivory and gold masterpiece Valerie had designed for Dr. Amina.
“Ma, please, just tilt your head a bit to the left,”
Tammy whispered, pinning a loose strand of the celebrant’s hair.
Dr. Amina looked into the full-length mirror, her eyes soft.
“Tammy, you and your friend have done more than just sew a dress. You’ve given me back a version of myself I thought I’d lost to age and work. Thank you.”
Tammy felt a lump in her throat.
“It’s an honor, Ma. Truly.”
The event planner, a petite woman with a headset and a clipboard, tapped her watch frantically.
“Five minutes, Dr. Amina! The MC is already introducing the documentary. Once the lights dim, you and Chief will walk through the center aisle. Chief is just outside with the men.”
Tammy took a final step back, her professional eye scanning the silhouette.
Everything was perfect. The gold embroidery caught the light like liquid sun.
She turned to pack her styling kit, trying to ignore the way her heart had started to drum against her ribs.
She knew he was right outside that door.
The double doors swung open.
The room didn’t just feel smaller; it felt like the atmospheric pressure had suddenly shifted. Tammy’s breath caught in her throat.
Walking in first was Chief Bello.
If Tammy had ever wondered where Setto got his presence, the answer was standing right there.
The man was dapper– a word that didn’t even do justice to the sheer aura of authority he carried.
He was draped in a heavy, midnight-blue Aso-Oke agbada, the embroidery done in a subtle, matte-silver thread that screamed “old money.”
And then, there was Setto.
He was the mirror image of his father, only with the raw, modern edge that always made Tammy’s knees feel like jelly.
He wore the same midnight-blue regal outfit, but his was tailored with a slimmer, more contemporary fit that emphasized the breadth of his shoulders.
His locs were pulled back neatly, showing off the sharp line of his jaw.
Tammy felt a jolt go through her, a physical, electric shock that started at the base of her spine and radiated outward.
For a split second, the room vanished.
The event planner, the assistants, the mirrors, everything blurred until the only thing in focus was Setto’s gaze.
He didn’t just look at her; he searched her.
His eyes were like fire, burning with weeks of unspoken questions and restrained longing. He greeted his mom, walked toward her, and every step he took felt like a beat of a drum.
“Tammy,” he said, his voice a low, vibrating hum.
Before she could respond with a professional “Good evening,” he stepped into her space and pulled her into a hug.
It wasn’t the polite, quick squeeze of a client and a stylist. It was a lingering, possessive embrace.
His arms felt like a fortress.
She could smell him, that intoxicating blend of oud, cardamom, and the fresh rain that had started outside.
He pulled back just an inch, his hands still resting on her waist, his thumbs tracing the silk of her dress.
The intensity in his eyes was almost too much to bear.
“You look... incredible,” he whispered, his eyes lingering on her face, noting every detail he had missed.
“The orange suits you. It’s like you’re glowing from the inside.”
“Thank you, Setto,” she managed to say, her voice sounding breathless and small, even to her own ears.
She felt like she was vibrating.
The fire in his eyes told her that the weeks hadn’t dampened anything; they had only added fuel to the flame.
He gave her waist one final, respectful squeeze before turning to his parents.
The spell broke, but the heat remained on her skin.
She looked up and saw his mom with a small smile on her face. She was very sure that Dr Amina knew what was going on but decided to act oblivious.
“This is the young lady I told you about, dear,” Dr. Amina said, beaming as she tucked her arm into her husband’s.
“Tammy. She’s been a lifesaver. And her friend Valerie made this dress.”
Chief Bello nodded once, a gesture of high approval from a man of his stature.
He was a man of very few words, but the way he looked at his wife spoke volumes.
He turned his head slightly toward Tammy. “The work is good. Well done.”
“Thank you, Sir,” Tammy said, bowing slightly.
Setto stood by his father, his eyes still flicking back to Tammy every few seconds.
The resemblance between them was uncanny. The same height, the same steady gaze, the same way they commanded the air around them.
Tammy tried to focus on her styling kit, trying to rearrange pins that didn’t need rearranging, but her hands were trembling.
“Chief, Ma, we have to move now!” the planner urged.
Setto leaned in close to Tammy one last time as his parents began to move toward the door.
“Don’t go anywhere,” he murmured, his breath warm against her ear.
“We have a lot to talk about. And I’ve been very patient.”
He turned and followed his father, leaving Tammy standing in the middle of the room, clutching a pin cushion like it was a life buoy.
She tried to take a deep, stabilizing breath, but her lungs felt tight.
She walked out into the main hall, her mind a beautiful, terrifying mess.
She had seen the fire in his eyes, and she knew that after tonight, there was no going back.
The heavy bass of the live band cut through the chatter in the grand ballroom, signaling that the formal reception had officially begun.
The daytime thanksgiving service at the church had been a quiet, family-oriented affair, but this evening reception was where Lagos high society came to pay its respects.
The double doors at the back of the hall swung open wide, and the crowd erupted into cheers and rhythmic clapping as the celebrant’s children marched out to usher their mother into the venue.
They came out in order of birth, a striking line of legacy that made the entire room stand still.
Walking ahead was the firstborn, an elegant woman draped in the family’s signature midnight-blue aso-oke, holding the hands of her two children alongside her husband.
Right behind her came Setto, the second child and the first son.
Tammy’s chest tightened the moment his polished black shoes stepped onto the custom white runway.
He didn’t look like a man who belonged to the chaotic streets of Lagos; he looked like a prince returning to his kingdom.
Clutched firmly in his large hand was little Eliana.
The girl was a vision in a miniature version of the gold and ivory lace gown, her dark hair styled into perfect curls, her tiny frame tucked securely into Setto.
The way he looked at her, adjusting her small gold necklace as he walked, sent a sharp, unfamiliar ache straight through Tammy’s heart.
Behind Setto walked the third child, another daughter, also flanked by her husband and two beautiful children.
Then came the second son, a quiet, tall gentleman who looked every bit like Chief Bello, walking just ahead of Koda.
Even Koda, for all her sharp edges and snobbish behavior, was undeniably beautiful tonight.
The midnight-blue lace was cut into a sleek, modern mermaid silhouette that suited her perfectly, her diamond drop earrings catching the light with every arrogant tilt of her head.
But Tammy’s eyes didn’t linger on Koda, nor on the gorgeous grandchildren.
They were glued to the second child. The man moved with a slow, deliberate grace that made the heavy agbada look weightless on his shoulders.
“Tammy,” a sharp whisper cut through her trance.
Tammy blinked, snapping her head around to find Valerie standing beside her, holding a glass of juice.
Valerie’s eyes were darting across the runway like a detective at a crime scene.
“Abeg, point him out to me. Which one is the famous Setto? Let me see this man that has been causing spiritual warfare in your life.”
Tammy subtly tilted her chin toward the center of the runway, where Setto was currently picking Eliana up to carry her over a small speaker cable.
“The one carrying the little girl. In the middle.”
Valerie looked. She paused.
She took a slow sip of her drink, her eyes widening just a fraction before she quickly straightened her face and looked away, trying to act sophisticated.
“Uhhh... he’s just there. He’s alright.”
Tammy let out a quiet, breathless laugh, her eyes tracking Setto as he reached the front tables.
“Ah! Valerie, you can lie o! ‘He’s just there’ ke? Look at him well now. This man is fine fine.”
Valerie couldn’t hold the straight face any longer.
She burst into a muted laugh, slapping Tammy’s arm lightly.
“Omo, na true o! I be wan form for you before, but this man fine! Forget child’s play, the man is smoking fine! Look at his shoulders, Tammy. And the jawline? Please let Purity not hear me o, because this one is a hazardous view!”
“Keep your voice down,” Tammy whispered, her cheeks burning as she laughed along with her friend.
“If anyone hears you, they will think we have lost our minds.”
The event settled into a smooth, luxurious rhythm. For the next hour, the room was filled with the voices of dignitaries, ministers, and corporate titans who took turns stepping up to the microphone.
They didn’t just give the usual superficial birthday praises; they spoke of Dr. Amina Bello’s unyielding integrity in high places, her quiet philanthropy, and her strength as a mother.
Tammy sat at the side table near the backstage area, watching the family.
She felt a deep sense of awe. This was the family she was standing on the edge of.
This was the world Setto wanted to bring her into.
“And now,” the Master of Ceremonies announced, his voice booming through the high-end sound system, “we will have a short tribute from the first son of the house, Mr. Setto Bello.”
Tammy felt her heart literally drop into her stomach.
Setto stood up from the high table, adjusting the shoulders of his agbada as he walked up the stairs to the stage.
When he took the microphone, the heavy light from the main chandelier hit him directly, illuminating the sharp angles of his face and the neat line of his locs.
“Good evening, everyone,” he began.
His voice didn’t just travel through the speakers; it felt like a physical vibration that hit Tammy straight in the chest.
He spoke a very clean, polished English, his tone deep, measured, and entirely calm.
He didn’t shout, he didn’t try to be theatrical, but the entire room of billionaires and politicians went dead silent to listen to him.
He spoke about his mother’s prayers during their darkest seasons.
He spoke about her resilience, his voice softening with a genuine, raw affection that made several women in the front row reach for their handkerchiefs.
Tammy sat frozen, her breath catching in her throat.
He is too fine, she thought, a sudden wave of heat rushing to her face.
It’s not even fair.
As she watched him smile at his mother from the stage, her mind did something treacherous.
For a split second, she wasn’t looking at a client’s son.
She was imagining a future. She was imagining their kids, tall, with his quiet strength and her fiery energy, maybe with that same little gap between their teeth.
She snapped her head down, blinking rapidly, her face completely flushed. Tammy, what is wrong with you?
She scolded herself mentally.
Look at you, imagining family portrait because a man is speaking English.
A soft, knowing chuckle came from her left.
Valerie was leaning back in her chair, shaking her head with a massive grin.
“Tammy, if your face gets any redder, we will need to apply ice o. I can literally hear your thoughts from here.”
“Shut up, Val,” Tammy muttered, looking anywhere but the stage.
When Setto finished his speech, the applause was deafening. He stepped down from the stage, but instead of walking back to the VIP table where his family sat, his eyes locked onto the side of the room.
He walked straight toward her table.
Tammy’s hands grew cold as he approached.
“Good evening, ladies,” Setto said, stopping right in front of them.
His height was intimidating up close, and the scent of his oud cologne immediately filled the space between them.
His eyes lingered on Tammy for a second longer than necessary, a quiet, intense fire burning in them, before he looked at Valerie.
Tammy quickly stood up, trying to find her professional voice.
“Uhh... Setto, this is Valerie, my best friend and the designer who made your mom’s gorgeous reception dress.”
Valerie stood up, her chin held high, her professional “big girl” persona firmly in place.
She extended her hand with a polite, cool smile.
“Good evening, Mr. Setto. It’s a pleasure to meet you. The family looks wonderful tonight.”
Setto took her hand, giving it a firm, respectful shake.
He smiled, and the warmth in his expression showed he respected her.
“The pleasure is mine, Valerie. My mother cannot stop singing your praises. The dress is a masterpiece. Thank you for making her look like the queen she is.”
“She carries it well,” Valerie said smoothly, though Tammy could see the slight tension in her friend’s shoulders.
Even Valerie, with all her exposure, was experiencing the “Bello effect” up close.
Setto turned his full attention back to Tammy.
The shift in his energy was immediate. It was like he had checked the boxes of polite society and was now returning to what actually mattered to him.
“May I borrow your friend for a dance?” Setto asked, his eyes fixed on Tammy’s face, his voice dropping into that lower, intimate register.
“The band is playing something decent, and I would like to steal this beautiful woman for a moment.”
Valerie didn’t even let Tammy answer.
She waved her hand dismissively with a wide smile.
“Ah, please! Have her to yourself, Mr. Setto. Take her away. She’s been stressing over these fabrics for weeks, she needs to move her body.”
Tammy shot Valerie a look that promised murder, but Setto was already extending his hand.
She hesitated for a fraction of a second before placing her hand in his.
His palm was large, warm, and soft, his fingers wrapping securely around hers as he led her out onto the edge of the dance floor.
The band was playing a slow, classic highlife tune. Nothing wild, just a beautiful, rolling rhythm.
Other couples were on the floor, swaying gently.
Setto placed one hand firmly on the small of her back, his other hand holding hers at a respectful distance.
They began to step together, their movements uncoordinated at first but quickly finding a beautiful, natural sway.
“So,” Setto murmured, leaning down slightly so his voice could carry over the music.
“The break is over, I assume.”
Tammy looked up, meeting his gaze. The fire she had seen in the changing room was still there, but up close, it was mixed with a deep, patient hunger.
“Yes. The break is over.”
“And?” he asked, his brow raising slightly.
“Did you find what you were looking for in the silence? Do you have your answer, Tammy?”
Tammy swallowed hard, her heart pounding against her ribs as they swayed to the rhythm of the horn section.
She wanted to be strong. She wanted to play the tough, independent girl she usually was, but the way he was looking at her made her feel completely bare.
“I... I am still thinking about it, Setto. I found a lot of peace, but I still need to process everything.”
Setto let out a low, rich laugh that vibrated against her palm.
He guided her through a gentle turn, bringing her just a fraction closer as they stepped.
He leaned in, his lips almost brushing the edge of her hair as he whispered into her ear.
“Tammy, I am a very patient man,” he said, his words cutting through her defenses like a hot knife through butter.
“But I am not that patient. I gave you those extra weeks because I didn’t want to distract you from my mother’s event, and I wanted you to have your clear heart. But I am a man, Tammy. I am not going to lie in the dark for too long.”
Tammy’s breath hitched. She looked into his eyes, her lips parting slightly.
“I want you,” Setto continued, his gaze dropping to her mouth for a split second before locking back onto her eyes with an intensity that made the rest of the ballroom fade into a blur of meaningless light.
“Not for a while. Not to play around. But for life.
“And I don’t think I can hold back for much longer. I’ve respected your boundaries, I’ve stayed away, but the string is pulled as tight as it can go.”
Tammy opened her mouth to speak, to give him one of her usual witty comebacks, but the words died in her throat.
She was completely locked in his gaze, her mind a blank slate, her body just following his beautiful, steady steps on the floor.
The jolt between them was so heavy, so real, that she forgot everything she had planned to say.
Setto saw the effect he had on her, and a small, satisfied smile touched the corners of his lips.
He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.
“I am being really patient, ma’am. But I will be waiting for that reply very soon. Don’t make me wait until the year ends.”
Tammy could only laugh a soft, helpless sound as they continued to move together under the golden lights, the weight of his promise hanging beautifully in the air between them.
Hi babiesssss!!!!
The heat in this episode is intense 🤭🤭
Run up the numbers on this one, my loves.
See y’all on Monday for a new episode ❤️❤️
Have a great weekend 😉
Okay fine. I officially resign as a Setto disliker. I like honesty that is not brash and he actually does have it.
Jesus said I shouldn't be a hater anyway🫠
But what did Setto do for you people that you didn’t like him before???😭😭