Chapter 1 - THE GANGSTER DUKE

Adeola thrived in the heat and chaos of her Lagos kitchen. A free-spirited tomboy, she moved with confident ease, chopping spices and stirring pots like she owned the place.Her chocolate-brown skin glistened with a sheen of sweat; her tall, slim frame and hourglass figure made her every move graceful yet purposeful. Her circular face, framed by tight curls pulled back into a practical bun with a few stubborn strands escaping, was set in a serious but fiery expression — a young woman who didn't just cook, she commanded the kitchen like a queen.Comfortable in plain tees, cargo pants, and worn sneakers, she laughed easily, especially when teasing anyone who took themselves too seriously. Far away, deep in a dark forest unfamiliar and foreboding, a tall figure stepped down from a carriage.The Duke was a striking sight — his body perfectly sculpted, pale white skin shining under the moonlight, midnight blue eyes that pierced the night, and midnight black hair that fell in soft waves around a handsome, unreadable face. Clad entirely in black, his presence was powerful, yet something lonely lurked behind that intensity.Back in Lagos, Adeola sat back on her massage chair, absorbed in learning recipes from across the globe. Her eyes landed on a strange notebook lying on the table. She picked it up and read the title aloud: "THE GANGSTER DUKE."Suddenly, everything around her started to fade — colors dimmed, sounds muffled, even the heartbeat she felt steady moments ago slowed until silence enveloped her.A distant whinny brought her back. Blinking, she stood up, still disoriented. Ibo ni mo wa? (Where am I?) she thought.Looking up, she saw a tall man stepping from a carriage, his aura commanding yet oddly familiar. Dressed entirely in black, his looks could rival any manga hero she'd seen online.Slapping herself lightly, she forced clear thought. You live in Nigeria—where do carriages even come from? Maybe dey don use juju for me.The stranger finally spoke in calm, direct word, "Who are you?"Adeola crossed her arms, returning his gaze with defiance and a smirk. "I should be asking. You know how to get to Lekki Phase 1?"He answered slowly, "No, I don't know Lekki Phase 1, but this place is not yours.""So where is this, then?" She challenged. "Maybe your father's house?"Without warning, she smacked him lightly on the head. "With all those clothes you wear, maybe you're acting? Why are you abusing me? Do I look like your enemy? I am not just any Lagos girl."The Duke blinked, confused by her boldness. His powerful presence shifted to something almost innocent as he rubbed the spot she'd struck."You are not like anyone I have met. Everyone is scared of me, and no one loves me."Adeola thought sharply: Experienced actor ni Bobo yi. (This guy is an experienced actor.)"What do you mean? Is this not 2025?" she asked.He blinked again. "This is the 1800s."WTF, she thought. Damn, this acting don enter his head."Just show me the way to Lagos or Egbeda, wherever. This forest is starting to look weird," she said.The Duke hesitated, glancing around nervously. "There is no Lagos or Egbeda here. I have never even heard those names before. You are not from here."Adeola, still steady, asked, "So where is this? At least tell me the name. Maybe I could call an Uber.""Uber? What is that?" the Duke asked uncertainly.Adeola rolled her eyes internally. Sho ode lele? (Is this a dumb person?) she thought."Uber is a car that takes you to your destination. If you don't get it, forget about it. Answer my question—where is this place?"The Duke hesitated before finally saying, "This is Norweisian.""Wait, what? Norweisian or Nigeria? Are you lying to me? Please wake me up if this is a dream."Her eyes suddenly rolled back and she lost consciousness."Wow, this bed is so comfy," Adeola murmured groggily as she slowly opened her eyes. "Mummy, when did we reach a 5-star hotel? Hahaha."As her vision cleared, she realized this was no hotel—this was something far grander.Omo, na castle be this? she thought, marveling at the ornate ceilings and golden fixtures.The sound of water trickling from the next room caught her attention. Curious, she got up and tiptoed toward the source.Peeking inside, she froze.There, in a large bathtub, was the Duke—naked, muscles glistening under the soft candlelight. Eight-pack abs carved like marble, a drool began to form at the corner of her mouth.Ki lo po ke? Ishan lo po pa. (What is this? So much muscle!)Her hand twitched forward, almost touching his sculpted abdomen when suddenly the Duke blushed fiercely and caught her hand mid-air.A low, grumbling growl broke the quiet, shattering the delicate atmosphere and snapping Adeola back to reality.Omo, ki lo she mi? (What is doing me?), she whispered, half amused, half embarrassed."Bro, you have too much muscle. What's your secret?"The Duke, still blushing, stammered, "Get out."Realizing what was happening, Adeola's mischievous grin blossomed. Bold as ever, she grabbed his abs and gave them a playful squeeze."Wow, this is something else."The Duke tried to protest but quickly gave up, another grumble escaping him."You must be hungry. I'll cook for you for free—since you're so handsome," Adeola teased."Lucky you ran into the best chef of Nigeria," she said proudly. "Where's your kitchen?" The kitchen felt vast and empty, like it hadn't been used for a long while. Adeola wondered if the Duke lived alone in this grand but lonely place.The electric cooker and blender intrigued her—this was supposed to be the 1800s, but she didn't argue. Whatever. I can ask about this later.She opened a cupboard and smiled with relief. Inside were canned tomatoes, dried peppers, onions, and a bottle of cooking oil that could pass for palm oil.Another cupboard held a sack of long-grain rice—eleyi osese (this is doable), she thought.In the fridge, she found fresh bell peppers, a small root of ginger, and a carrot.A drawer revealed a jar of dried thyme and a few bay leaves.Adeola grabbed the bell peppers, canned tomatoes, garlic, and ginger, tossing them into the blender—her trusty kitchen companion. As the blades whirred, a thick, fiery red paste formed.She set the pot on the cooker and heated the oil until it shimmered.Thinly sliced onions went in first, sizzling and softening until golden brown, filling the kitchen with a smell that made this strange place feel more like home.Pouring in the red paste, she added a little water, salt, thyme, and stirred everything, letting it simmer and thicken for ten minutes.The sauce deepened in color and aroma.Next came the rice.After rinsing it to wash off excess starch, she added the grains and a bay leaf into the pot, folding them gently into the simmering sauce.An hour later, the kitchen was fragrant with the unmistakable aroma of jollof rice.The Duke, drawn by the smell, appeared at the kitchen doorway, curiosity gleaming in his midnight-blue eyes."What's this?" he asked.Adeola beamed. "It's jollof rice, a dish often cooked in Nigeria. Once you taste it, you'll fall in love."I dished his food and mine as we both sat at the dining table. I waited for him to taste it.He carried the spoon, scooped the rice, and put it in his mouth.He didn't talk for what felt like forever, until tears fell down from his eyes.It was so delicious, and no one has cooked for me in a long time.I couldn't resist the urge to give him a hug.