The CEO Is Mine

Chapter Four

Marry me” Elijah said while holding her wrist that was still so close to his face.

Her eyes almost bugged out of her eye sockets. She felt eyes on her, and looked to her left to find Anna, Elijah's date, looking at both of them with a mean glare. Delilah ignored her and looked up to the man that seemed to have ran mad and spat rubbish

“What do you mean?” her voice now held strength.

“Marry me, and you won't have to pay for staining my very expensive shirt”

“Are you mad?” she almost shouted

Elijah noticed they were already gaining attention. He dragged her away from there and went to the balcony upstairs while she struggled to get herself away from his grip.

“Stop fighting me, I just want to talk to you” he almost growled.

“What do you want?” she asked when he closed the door behind them.

“I know you”

“uhhh?” she asked, stunned

“ You need money. You need money to treat your dying mother. You need money to pay for your school debt. You need money to keep your family's house your father used as a collateral to pay your mum bills before he died. You need my money to survive, Delilah”

She felt her anxiety creeping in for the third time that day.

“What ar_re y_ou talking a_ab…How do you know that?”

“That's not what's important right now. You need my help, and well I need…no I'm willing to offer it but on a condition. Marry me”

“ You don't even know me”

“I don't have to. It isn't a marriage built on love. It's a marriage of convenience and you will be getting paid”

“I don't understand. I'm just supposed to marry you because I stained your damn expensive shirt and act like it's okay? What are you! Deranged? I don't need your money, sir” she spat out

“ You're marrying me because you need my money and yes, partly because you destroyed my shirt” she wondered how he could say that with a straight face. “ You live like a church rat. You feed from hand to mouth , work three jobs a day and come back home smelling like a dumpster. Do you cry every night like the weak woman you are, craving your mum's touch? Do you curse your dad every cold night that he took the only thing that reminded you of your childhood? Do you still not need my money, Delilah?”

It had to be a joke, she thought. She wondered how she got herself in the situation. Her head throbbed, having not fully recovered. She looked at the sky that was visible above the balcony. She closed her eyes trying to recollect all the events of the day. She turned to him, searching for any form of unseriousness but he just stood there, as rigid as he was when they met at the elevator. She regretted listening to her friend to come work as a waitress there, at the event.

“I don't know who you think you are. I don't know what you found about me. I don't care what drugs you took before coming to me. I don't care about your fudging crisp white shirt. I don't care how good looking you are or how many ladies have helped build your ego. I'm Delilah, I don't need your money. I can stand on my own, I've always stood on my own. Yes, my mum is lying down like a freaking vegetable on that thin bed in the hospital, and I'd do anything to see her walk on her two legs and hug me. But I still don't need your money. My father used the family house as a collateral and I have to live there like a thief, but he did all that because of the love he had for my mum. He acted strong for us, so we could lean on him, when he was the weakest one. He died while loving us deeply even until his last breath. I need the house, I need the memories I built in that house. I need my life back but I still don't need you or your money”

“You don't need the job at Stephen Sails anymore?” he folded his hands, his back resting on the wall, watching her like a prey

“Stephen Sails? What do you have to do with that?” she scratched her head, tired of conversing with him.

“I own it. I own Stephen Sails company”

Ohh, no wonder. That's what he meant, she thought, mentally slapping herself for not getting the hint from day one. The elevator she took the other day, she was the only one there before he joined her. She wondered why she never thought why nobody bothered to use it with the people rushing to take the other one close to the exit. He had that aura, that rich pompous aura that came with every important influential person. Why did she never see it?

“I need the job. But if I have to lose my pride and esteem to get it, maybe I don't need it that much. Good night, Mr Stephen” she said and walked out or tried to. She tried to open the door of the balcony but it wouldn't budge. She pushed and pulled but it was still closed. She closed her eyes in embarrassment and frustration. Her ankles ached from walking on heels all night, and she wanted nothing more than to pull it off and lay down. She banged her head on the obliviousness of the fact that Elijah was still there, now staring at her in amusement.

He came forward, put his hands on the door knob, their body a quarter inch away from each other, his lips pressed to her ears. She could hear his soft breath. She could smell him, and like she expected, he smelled rich. But it was more than that. He smells earthly, like the smell of earth when rain falls. Maybe it was just the dizziness she felt or the way her stomach groaned from hunger, but she wanted him to stay there a while longer. She wanted him to come closer, wrap his hands around her this time. She imagined herself resting her back against his hard chest and feeling every one of his muscles. And maybe she would then turn around and lift her hands to touch his neck, touch the scar she had seen earlier, this time he would not be stopping her, but instead he would bend his neck, inviting her in. But then her thoughts got interrupted by his voice.

“ This could be your freedom, think about it” he said and proceeded to open the door with a click. He stepped away from her, leaving her alone there.

She stood there, her eyes closed, still in her reverie.