Chapter 2
970 Words
Daniel's POV
“It’s nothing, babe… but I’ve got to go right now.”
The lie landed smoothly, really needed to stop making a habit of it. I didn’t pause, didn’t even need to think.
And of course Amara didn’t question me, and that was exactly why she worked. She never did.
She only nodded and smiled, benefits of being with a poor girl isn't it?
I was still wrapped in sheets that smelled like her skin, her eyes soft with trust. Trust was a currency, easy to spend when you knew how to earn it.
It followed me even as I stood, even as I walked away from the bed.
The phone buzzed again in my hand as I headed for the bathroom.
I let the water run longer than necessary, not because I needed it, but because silence helped me think.
Steam fogged the mirror while I reminded myself of the rules: never rush, never panic, never let emotion decide the order of things.
Control was about sequence. About choosing which fire to smother and which to let burn a little longer.
I dressed quickly. Shirt. Casual trousers. No tie.
This wasn’t business, at least not the kind that left a paper trail. Before leaving, I leaned down and kissed Amara’s forehead. A gentle gesture for reassurance.
She smiled like she believed this was normal. Like this was love.
Down the stairs, out the door, into the car. The engine responded instantly, obedient. I liked machines. They did exactly what they were built to do.
I called Lucas as I pulled onto the road.
“Hey man… What's good?” I asked.
Lucas was my best friend, and we had known each other since childhood, our parents sent us to the same schools and we had been looking out for each other ever since.
“What do you want Daniel?” He responded.
He was not the kind that let work stress him often, but I could tell on this particular day, he was tired, from his voice.
“You busy tomorrow?” I asked.
There was a pause. “For you? Always.”
I smirked. “I need a favor.”
“Of course you do.”
I kept my explanation simple, wedding errands, fittings, lists, things I had no intention of touching myself.
I told him I’d be tied up all day. He sighed, muttered something about me being impossible, but I already knew the outcome before I’d dialed his number.
“You owe me,” he said finally.
“I always do,” I replied, and we both knew that was a lie I told often enough to make it sound sincere.
I ended the call and dialed the number that texted me while I was with Amara.
Hailey picked up on the first ring.
“I’m home,” she said. No greeting not warmth.
“I’m on my way.”
Her place was quiet when I arrived, the kind of quiet that pressed against the ears, heavy with expectation.
She didn’t waste time. The moment I stepped inside, she handed me the invitation card.
Cream paper. Gold lettering.
I recognised it instantly, that was for my wedding.
I stared at it longer than necessary, letting the silence stretch. Silence unsettled people. It made them talk first.
“How did you get this?” I asked.
“That is the first thing you utter from that hole of yours? really…”
“Calm down baby…”
She folded her arms. “You must think I’m a fool. Discarded for a low-life girl who doesn’t even belong in your world.”
I exhaled slowly, carefully. This wasn’t panic. Panic made mistakes. This was negotiation.
“It’s not what you think,” I said.
She laughed, sharp, humorless. “That’s funny. Because it’s exactly what it looks like I'm thinking.”
I gave her the version I’d refined over time. That my parents wanted this.
That the marriage was temporary. That Amara was convenient, quiet, harmless. That we wouldn’t last. I spoke calmly, confidently, like a man explaining an inconvenience, not a betrayal.
“I don’t care about her,” I said. “This is about appearance.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Is that what you told your secretary too?”
For the first time, something tight flickered low in my gut, instant irritation. These ladies seemed to always know one or two things about each other.
“How do you…”
She tilted her head. “You really don’t know how predictable you are, do you?”
I stepped closer, invading her space deliberately. Lowered my voice. I reminded her of us. Of history. Of nights she still measured herself against. I told her she was the one I wanted, the one I chose when no one was watching.
Words were tools. I knew exactly which ones to pick up.
She let me kiss her.
The tension eased, just enough. Her fingers slid over the front of my trousers, she touched my hard d**k print and gave me a smile.
I didn't stop her, I let her feel what she needed to feel.
“We’ll spend the whole day together,” I told her. “Just us.”
She studied my face, searching for cracks. “Why not now?”
“I still have work,” I said smoothly. “You know how it is.”
She didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t push. Not yet. She never pushed when she thought she was winning.
I kissed her again, deeper this time. Not because I wanted to, but because it would keep her where I needed her.
When I left, I heaved a huge sigh of relief in my car, played some music to get my mind of things and decided to go see my parents.
- Writer
