A DESPERATE DEAL

chapter 4: Breakfast With The Devil

7 AM. Again.

The same cold office. The same glass walls that showed a Lagos that was still waking up. The same man who owned half of it.

This time Ada came 5 minutes early at 6:55 AM. She was tired of being late to her own misery. She was tired of him saying "You are late, Mrs. Cole" with that cold voice. If hell started at 7 AM, she would at least be early to hell.

She wore the same navy blouse, but she had washed it last night and ironed it until it shone. Her blister was worse. She put tissue paper inside her shoes to stop the bleeding.

Damian was already there.

He didn’t look like the Damian from yesterday. Shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing strong arms, tie loose, hanging. Hair slightly messy like he had run his hands through it many times. He looked younger like this, less CEO, more man. A very tired man who hadn’t slept.

There were two silver trays already waiting. He was looking at his laptop, but he wasn’t typing. He was just staring at the screen, frowning.

“Morning,” she said quietly, sitting down at the small round table near the window that had become their breakfast table. She sat carefully, trying not to wince when her shoes pressed.

He grunted. Didn’t look up. Pushed a plate toward her with one finger. Eggs, toast, avocado, sliced pawpaw. “Eat.”

They ate in silence again. But today it was different. Less sharp. More tired. The AC hummed. Outside, a plane drew a white line across the Lagos sky.

For 5 minutes, only cutlery.

“You’re quiet,” he said finally, not looking up from his phone. His voice was rough, like he had been shouting.

You told me not to talk during breakfast, Ada said, keeping her eyes on her plate.

“I never said that.”

“You have 5 rules now, sir. I assumed talking was Rule 6.”

Damian actually laughed.

A short, surprised, real sound. Like he forgot how to laugh and it escaped by mistake. He looked up, and for the first time, his eyes weren’t ice.

“I don’t have rules about talking. Yet,” he said, and took a sip of his black coffee.

Ada looked up, caught completely off guard. His eyes weren’t cold right now. They were tired Human. With fine lines at the corners. He looked like a man carrying a whole city on his shoulders.

“My grandfather asked about you,” he said, staring into his coffee like it had answers. “I called him last night. Said he’s excited to meet the woman who finally tamed Damian Cole.”

Ada choked on her toast. Coughed. “Tamed you?”

His words, not mine. Damian rubbed his temple with his free hand, he looked exhausted. “He said, ‘She must be special to make you wear that expression, Damian. You look less like a bastard when you talk about her.’”

“What expression?” Ada whispered, her heart was doing something stupid, beating fast.

The one you’re making me make right now, he said quietly. “Annoyed. Confused.”

He said confused like it was a bad thing.

Before Ada could answer, before she could ask what that meant, the door flew open no knock, no warning.

Vanessa.

Heels clicking like bullets on the marble floor. Perfume so expensive and loud it filled the office in aàone second. Red lipstick, balack tight dress face like thunder.

Ada knew her from i********:. Vanessa Okoro. Board member’s daughter, model, Damian’s rumored ex. Or current? No one knew.

“What is this?” Vanessa dropped a thick file on the desk hard. The sound made Ada jump. “A secretary at your breakfast table? Since when do you do breakfast meetings, Damian? And why was I not informed about a breakfast meeting?”

Damian’s face went blank again in one second. CEO mode. Ice, Walls up. The tired human man disappeared and the billionaire was back.

“She’s my wife, Vanessa watch your tone.”

The words dropped like a stone.

Vanessa’s mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. Her perfect eyebrows shot up to her hairline. “Wife? Since WHEN do you have a wife, Damian? You didn’t tell me. You didn’t tell the board. You have a WIFE? Is this a joke? Is this one of your grandfather’s stupid games?”

“Since I decided you didn’t need to know,” he said. His voice was flat. Final. The kind of voice that ended careers. “It’s personal. And the board will be informed on Monday. At the official announcement.”

The air crackled with tension. Ada wanted to disappear into her chair.

Vanessa turned to Ada slowly. Up and down. Judging. From her cheap blouse to her faded trousers to her blistered shoes. Her eyes were cruel, practiced.

“So you are the secret wife,” she said, smiling, but her smile was knives. “You don’t look like wife material, darling. You look like staff. Like someone who should be serving breakfast, not eating it. Did you get lost on your way to the kitchen?”

Ada’s hands shook under the table so hard her fork rattled. She thought of her mother in Reddington Hospital right now, in a clean white bed, getting real treatment because of this man’s money. She thought of the contract. 50 million. Rule 2: Play the perfect wife.

She lifted her chin. Her throat was dry but her voice was clear.

“I don’t need to look like anything, ma’am. I’m his wife on paper and in public. And my husband likes having breakfast with me. Is there a problem with that?”

Ma’am. My husband.

Damian’s head snapped toward her. His eyes widened just a fraction. Surprised. Impressed?

Vanessa laughed. Cruel and sharp and loud. “We’ll see how long that lasts, sweetheart. Damian gets bored fast. Ask Amara. Ask me. One month, two months, he’ll replace you with a newer model. One with better clothes.”

She turned on her heel and left, slamming the door so hard the glass windows shook and Ada’s water glass rippled.

Silence.

Heavy, ringing silence.

Damian rubbed his temples hard. Sorry about her he muttered he didn’t look at Ada, he looked angry, but not at her but at Vanessa, at himself.

“It’s fine,” Ada whispered. But it wasn’t fine. Her heart was pounding like a drum, her hands were still shaking. Her cheap blouse suddenly felt cheap and tight.

“Finish your breakfast,” Damian said gruffly. He pushed the fruit plate closer to her with more gentleness than his voice. “And thank you for that.”

“For what?”

“For not crying. For not running in. For not fighting her like a market woman. You handled it.” He looked at her then. “Most women would have screamed.”

Ada didn’t answer. She just picked up her fork and ate a piece of pawpaw. Because the devil at the table had just defended her. And his hand, when he pushed the plate, had brushed hers. Warm. Rough.

And that was more dangerous than any of his rules.

After breakfast, when the trays were cleared, Damian stood and buttoned his shirt sleeves down. Back to CEO.

“Come with me,” he said.

“Where?” Ada stood too, panicked.

“My 9 AM board meeting. You’re my wife now you should learn how to act like it before Sunday dinner with Grandpa. Consider it training.”

The meeting room was on the same floor. Huge, glass, with a table that could sit 20 men. It was full of men in suits, all older, all important. All of them stopped talking when Damian walked in with Ada on his arm.

His hand rested lightly on her lower back. Warm, possessive, fake. But to everyone else, it looked real. It looked like a husband who was proud.

“This is Mrs. Cole,” Damian said, his voice smooth, confident, completely different from the tired man at breakfast. “My wife ada, she will be joining us for some meetings going forward.”

The men nodded. Some looked shocked. One whispered loudly, “Since when did Cole get married? Was I not invited?” Another stared at Ada’s blouse.

Ada smiled. The smile hurt her face. She felt like an imposter, like a child wearing her mother’s clothes.

“Nice to meet you, sirs,” she said softly.

She sat in the chair next to Damian. For 40 minutes she didn’t understand a word. Revenue, acquisition, Q3 projections, offshore. But she sat straight, she nodded she wrote notes like she belonged. And Damian’s hand under the table tapped her knee once. Good job.

On the way back to his office, Damian walked faster, hands in pockets.

“You did good,” he said without looking at her.

“I didn’t do anything. I just sat.”

“You didn’t flinch. You didn’t look scared. That’s something. Vanessa was right about one thing - this world will eat you if you flinch.”

Back in the office, he poured her a glass of water himself. No secretary just him.

“Rule 6,” he said, handing her the glass. Their fingers touched.

Ada braced herself, heart thudding. “Another one?”

“Don’t believe anything Vanessa says. Ever.” He looked at her then. Really looked at her, at her tired eyes, her brave face, her cheap but clean blouse. “And Rule 7: Tomorrow, Saturday, 10 AM. We go ring shopping. At BoBo Diamonds in Ikoyi.”

Ada’s heart stopped. Completely stopped, then started beating too fast.

A ring, a real diamond ring for a fake marriage.

“Dismissed,” Damian said, but his voice was softer.

As Ada left the office, her old shoes clicking quietly now, she touched her empty ring finger.

In 24 hours, it wouldn’t be empty anymore it would have his ring. His name.

And that terrified her more than Vanessa ever could. Because part of her, a small, foolish part, wanted it to be real.

TO BE CONTINUE....