Chapter Five – Cracking Mask
1181 Words
Carl walked her out to the car park, and every step felt like a walk down the aisle. Aima hurried into the car just to take in a deep breath. As the car drove away, she peeked through the car window, and quickly pulled back. Bad idea–because Carl stood there watching her too.
The realisation that she might be treading into something deeper she didn't plan for unsettled her. He was everything she wanted, but he belonged to a different universe–the elite world, and she didn't fit in.
Upon Carl's return to his office, he found Julian already waiting at his door–sleeves rolled up as usual. Julian stared at him with a toothless smile and followed him to the office, ready to be gisted.
“You look like someone who just got what he wanted.”
Carl gave a faint smile, “I like her.” He admitted as he sat down.
“Mmm looks like someone is beginning to crack.” Julian teased him, leaning casually against the door frame.
“She's got some wild bravery. I actually think she'll be good for you.”
Carl leaned back in his chair, rotating from left to right. “You think so?”
“Oh trust me. The way she challenges you…is refreshing.”
Carl gave him a warning look, “drop it.”
“Just saying.” Julian replied, with both hands raised in surrender.
“I'll go check on the media contracts. Catch you later…loverboy.”
Carl grabbed a pen from his table and threw it at him jokingly as they both laughed.
Alone in his office, he ran his hand over his face, irritated by the way she simply occupied his thoughts. He threw himself into work to avoid any distraction.
As the clock struck noon, Aima was already back at Crown Events office. Jane was very pleased and excited because they had sealed the most lucrative deal ever since the inception of the company. Right away, she departed the office to the bank to retrieve funds for the project.
However, Aima couldn't pin down how she felt about it–whether to be excited about the contract or the man who offered it.
She was beginning to notice his attraction towards her. Quietly, she sat at her desk in a thinking pose–having conversations with herself.
“What is this date supposed to mean? Is it just work? No, work dinner can't be at his residence. Wait...could he be attracted to me? No…that ain't possible.”
She hit her hand against her forehead–
“Get serious Aima.” She murmured to herself.
Even if he was, she dared not love him back. Because the Grahams didn't compromise on standards.
Lost in her thoughts, she heard a knock on the door. It was a delivery man in a branded uniform, holding in his hand a packaged meal.
“Ordered to this address, Madam.” He said, handing over the package to Aima. She reluctantly stretched out her hand, but still received it. He turned and left before Aima could ask any further questions.
Aima stood at the entrance, staring at the package in her hands. She almost called back the delivery man to tell him it was the wrong address. It was a meal from one of the most expensive restaurants in the city–and of course, owned by Carl, which Aima was unaware of.
“Ordered to this address?” She stood there confused and thinking out loud. She pulled out a note attached to the meal which read:
“I want to be the reason behind your smile. Made with love for you. Hope you enjoy this meal.”
To: Miss Deville
Every word she read indeed followed a smile. A smile reaching her eyes. The note addressed to Miss Deville somehow gave her a clue who it came from. You could read love in her eyes–and her smile only meant that, behind that power and control, he was also sweet at heart.
Her work performance for the whole day was disrupted–contemplating on whether or not to honour the invitation for the date night. Aima was known to have a high self-esteem. But this time, she placed herself down in favour and believed to be unworthy of his love.
Meanwhile, earlier in the day, Carl ordered Christine to do background checks on Aima, most importantly where she lived. He wanted to surprise her by picking her up for their date night since he didn't take no for an answer.
When Aima got home from work that evening, she went straight to the bathroom. She needed to freshen up in order to make the right decision. Alone under the shadow, she strongly convinced herself she wasn't going for the date. Being together with him alone might deepen feelings and expose hidden emotions–the very thing she was running from.
As soon as she got out of the shower, she began having second thoughts.
“Mmm…it wouldn't be a bad opportunity to make up for his kind gesture.” She thought to herself.
After about thirty minutes of back and forth with herself, she entered her wardrobe. She brought out an outfit and tried it on. She wouldn't stop stressing her phone's camera as she took shots of every angle and forwarded them to Tilly.
“I need to look good for a date tomorrow. What do you think?” She texted.
Tilly had a background in fashion and was Aima's stylist by default. Her reply quickly came in.
“Who's this lucky person?”
“Mr Graham.” with a blushing emoji.
“Girl…you are winning damn hearts!” Laughing emoji flooded their screens.
“It's perfect.”
She hung the dress neatly in her wardrobe and went to the kitchen to get some food to eat.
“Let's make some sandwiches…” She grabbed some bacon from the fridge. With two tomatoes in her hand, she opened the tap to wash them. Just then her phone began to ring from the bedroom. She rushed to the bedroom with the two tomatoes in hand.
She leaned closer to the phone which lay on the bed and stared at the screen. The number was unfamiliar, but she picked up anyway.
“Hi Miss Deville.”
She noticed the voice and how her name was pronounced. She went blank—it was him.
“Mr Graham.” She finally responded.
“My apologies for calling after hours.”
“Not at all. Is it urgent sir?”
“Well…quite an urgent one. Umm…are you doing anything right now?”
Aima looked down at the tomatoes in her hand.
“Umm…no. We can talk.
“Okay. First…are you home?”
“Yes…what are you up to?”
“So, remember I said I wanted us to have a dinner date tomorrow?”
Aima then noticed the call had nothing to do with work.
“Yes?”
“I couldn't wait any longer. I'm already waiting outside.”
- Writer
