Beneath His Diamond Heart

Amara's pov. The rain fell hard on the shiny streets of Lagos, pouring like tiny fingers and sliding over the dark windows of a luxurious black car that was parked outside the opulent Valmont Grand Hotel. Everything lit up within the ballroom. Over hundreds of high-end guests wearing designer suits and sparkling gowns, crystal chandeliers, delicate classical music played moved through the air as waiters walked softly around the tables, holding silver trays of champagne. It was the type of place that I saw only in movies and wished to attend but tonight I despised every moment of it. I placed my hands on a tray of beverages and clumsily wriggled the sleeve of my fitted black waitress dress. My feet ached a lot after standing for hours but I didn't think about it. I needed the job. The value of each naira was now crucial. My little sister's school fees were still not paid, our landlord was again threatening eviction and the electricity was cut two months back. I was very tired at the age of 23. Tired of trying to act like nothing was wrong. Tired of being responsible for a never-ending burden. Above all, I was tired of being poor! Another waitress, "table six," whispered as she hurried past me. I nodded off to myself and hurriedly spun around. “Careful”. The tone of his deep male voice caught me off guard. I was trying to get my balance back when the tray of food suddenly tipped over dramatically in my hands. A champagne glass had fallen out and burst loudly on the shiny marble surface. The ballroom fell silent as eyes turned to me. I froze in horror. The front of an expensive white shirt was smeared with the golden liquid of the man standing directly in front of me. There was a lot of buzzing around the room. “Oh my God…” “That's Damien Vaughn”. “The billionaire CEO?” I slowly lifted up my eyes. And realized right away what people were talking about. Damien Vaughn was standing right in front of me in a well-ironed black suit, his cold gray eyes glaring into me. He exuded power and control in every way. Not only was his abstention from speech perilous but his lack of words. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, " I murmured hurriedly, my heart crashing wildly against my ribs. My hands were getting sweaty and shaky and I bent over looking at the floor in embarrassment. Damien had a quick glance at the stain of the champagne on his shirt before turning his face back to me. “Be more conscious about where you are going. If you know you are tired, if you know you don't want to work anymore then go home.” He growled so low that I was the only one who heard him. I expected him to yell at me, I expected him to get into a frenzy and gloat about the expense of the air he breathed and how I wasn’t fit to breathe the same as him. I didn’t expect him to be this calm, like a reasonable person and not an ill mannered goat. Perhaps I was hoping for more, perhaps it was because the rich men were always talking down to those like us. I put my hand on the tray, “Let's stop people from standing in the middle of walkways so it can be free”. One of the waitresses near us broke her tray. Damien raised his eyebrows at me, as if he was slightly amused. I was getting the idea that I should perhaps end it there, before security had me escorted out so I kept silent. Something in his look made me feel uneasy, making the hair at the back of my neck stand. He looked too calm. Too controlled. He looked like one who could be affected by nothing in this world. An older businessman hurried towards us, his eyes wide and bulging. I would say he was nervous. “Mr. Vaughn, the investors are waiting outside the door. They claim to have a business meeting with you. Damien ignored him, his eyes fixated on my face while wiping his suit down, he sat down at the nearest seat and looked up to me. “What is your name?” “Amara” I hesitated briefly. For a second, we remained unmoving, staring at each other. He stood up taking a step backward before turning to walk out of the hall. However, the peculiar expression in his eyes ( blue eyes? What eye color. FOR E.G the peculiar expression in his amber eyes…) would not leave my mind. The following morning was a stark contrast to the glitz and glamour of the ballroom. The light came in through a hole in the curtain of my small apartment and a rusting ceiling fan droned above me. The apartment was very cramped, crowded and hot. The wall and the little kitchen are covered with peeling paint; Enoch can only fit two people in the kitchen at ease. Still,it was home. Other people thought of buying new bags, perming themselves up but mine was filled with responsibilities that followed me to dreamland. A dreamless night was a luxury I couldn't afford as I was constantly assaulted with thoughts of taking care of my siblings and I. Three years ago our parents were killed in a car accident. Since then, the sole responsibility has been on me. I quickly tossed bread in a worn down fry pan, thinking of bills which I couldn't put off-putting my name on them (rent, school fees, electricity and even food). The pressure on my chest squeezed my heart so bad, I wanted to tear up but i wouldn’t cry, not now. I couldn’t afford to shed tears right now for any reason. “Sister Amara!!” Sophie cried out from their bedroom. “I'm late.” “You should’ve woken up early,” don't b***h me about your lateness. She came into the kitchen in her uniform and curly hair still not combed. “You haven't slept yet again," she whispered, staring at me suspiciously. “I slept”. That's definitely a big fat whopper. I turned away from here to pick up her plate, placing it in front of her. “Eat before you miss your bus.” She studied me carefully. “You're thinking about him, right?” “Who?” I asked, frowning at her. “The billionaire” I choked on my tea, “not necessarily about anyone, per se.” Damn, she was f*****g blunt. “You must have had some expression on your face when he looked at you yesterday.” She said, smirking at me. “I got his shirt messed up, Sophie of course, he will look at me while TALKING.” “He was a good-looking man, however.” I rolled my eyes but alas, Sophie was right. The first thing that came to my mind was the image of Damien Vaughn, cold gray eyes, sharp jawline,expensive watch, calm voice with dark skin. There's something about him that was all wrong and screaming Danger. I was lost in thought when I heard a loud knock on my door. I froze before collecting myself and jumping off my seat. I felt a fresh wave of fear sinking into my guts, was it my homeowner? Or the water bill?. “Who is that?” I asked. “Come open up this fuckin door,” I didn't need anyone to tell me who it was. My grey a*s landlord was here for his debt. I opened the door slowly, preparing for his outlast. Mr Bello was standing outside with an angry look on his face. “Where is my money? You crap.” “I’m still gathering it, Sir.” I said quietly. “You've been telling me that for weeks. I'm tired of your silly and meaningless excuses.” “Sir, please give me little time, I promise to-” “You have three days,” he coldly interrupted, "See, you have three days," Before i sent you out of my house,” He said, sending spit flying over my face. I scrunched my face in disgust. I was glad Sophie wasn’t home to witness this. I needed her to concentrate on her studies and nothing more. I pushed the door shut and let the silence settle. I have just three days or I’ll be homeless.