Chapter Two: Tempted by Survival
1286 Words
Mira’s legs trembled as she stepped out of the Royal Haven Hotel. The night air felt heavier than usual, pressing against her chest as if it wanted to remind her of what had just happened.
She had never spoken to a man like that before, especially not someone who looked and sounded like him.
The hospital bill still lingered in her mind, her cousin lying in a crisis, the fear of failing them pressing on her chest. And now, this man, this arrogant stranger, had thrown something even darker into the mix: money for her body.
She hugged herself and kept walking. The streetlights blinked faintly, and the smell of rain floated in the air.
By the time she reached home, the small compound was silent except for the hum of a generator from the next yard. She slipped into the house quietly, hoping her aunt was asleep. The sitting room was dark, except for the blue glow of the TV still playing an old movie.
Mira tiptoed past, dropped her bag, and collapsed on the thin mattress in her room.
The scene at the hotel kept replaying in her mind. His eyes, his tone, the calm confidence in his voice when he said,
"Do I look like a man people walk away from?"
She had walked away, yes, and he did nothing.
A bitter smile tugged at her lips. All these men who think they can buy anything with money, she thought. Maybe he was used to women falling at his feet, but she wasn’t one of them.
Inside her small room, the silence felt heavier than usual. She sat on the edge of her bed, staring at nothing. The ceiling fan creaked with each slow turn, matching the rhythm of her thoughts.
She told herself she had done the right thing by walking away and keeping her dignity. Yet her mind churned. The money her aunt demanded, how could she possibly get it? And what if walking away again wasn’t an option next time?
She stared at the ceiling for a long moment, watching the blades spin lazily above her, pretending they could chase away the noise in her head. But they didn’t. The silence only made her thoughts louder.
Then she lay down and pulled the thin blanket over her, her chest still tight. It took a while before her eyes finally grew heavy.
Eventually, sleep claimed her, deep and quiet. The night passed in silence.
Morning came too soon. The sun crawled through the torn curtains, lighting the dusty floor.
Mira forced herself up. She had applications to send out, more job hunts, and another shift at night. Her body ached, but she couldn’t afford to rest.
In the kitchen, her aunt was already awake, stirring a pot of watery pap.
“Good morning, Aunt Lydia,” Mira greeted softly.
The woman stirred the pot, then looked at Mira with a softened expression. “I’m so sorry for the way I shouted at you yesterday. I know things have been hard, and now Cynthia is lying in the hospital…”
Mira felt a lump form in her throat. She stepped forward and hugged her aunt tightly. “I won’t let anything happen to Cynthia, Aunt. I promise.”
Her aunt nodded, her eyes still serious but gentler. “I know you’ll do your best. That’s why I trust you, Mira. You’ve always been a good girl. Just don’t let me down.”
Mira smiled faintly, a small warmth spreading through her despite the weight of her worries. “I won’t, Aunt. I promise.”
She left the kitchen before tears could fall. Her life felt heavy with responsibility and worry, but the memory of her aunt’s trust and her own determination to protect Cynthia pushed her forward, even as every path seemed to lead closer to an impossible choice.
By evening, she was back at the hotel. Her heart raced as she walked in. She told herself that Damien wouldn’t be there again. Maybe it was just a one-time visit. She tied her apron and went straight to the bar.
The manager called out, “Mira!”
“Yes, sir?” she replied, turning toward him.
He pointed toward the same velvet section. “Table four again. The guest requested you.”
Her stomach dropped. “Requested me?”
“Yes. He said only you should serve him tonight.”
Mira felt the floor tilt beneath her feet. “Sir, maybe someone else…”
The manager cut her off with a frown. “He’s a paying customer. Don’t mess this up. And for your own good, don’t provoke him.”
She wanted to argue but swallowed the words. Refusing could cost her the job she desperately needed.
She wiped her palms on her apron and walked toward the private section.
The curtains parted, and there he was, Damien Cole. The same black suit, the same calm dominance in his posture, as if the chair itself was part of his throne. His eyes lifted slowly to meet hers.
“So, you came back,” he said, his voice smooth as velvet.
“I came for work, sir,” Mira replied quietly.
“That’s what I like about you. You always give me an honest answer,” he said.
“What will you order tonight?” Mira asked, ignoring the way her pulse reacted to his voice as she placed the tray down carefully.
He smiled faintly. “Whiskey and conversation.”
“I’m not paid to talk,” she muttered.
“Then let’s change that.” He slid a sleek black card across the table. “A little bonus for keeping me company.”
She stared at the card without touching it. “Sir, I can’t.”
“You can,” he said. “You just don’t want to.”
“Sir, you’ve been disturbing my work here and there. What is it that you want from me?” Mira asked, her voice tight but controlled.
He leaned back, calm, almost amused. He tore out another card from his wallet, the edges crisp. He slid it across the table toward her. “It has a larger amount. Consider it a reward.”
“I can see that you play games with people’s dignity,” Mira said angrily.
“Not everyone,” he said, his eyes darkening. “Only those who are interested in me.”
Not long after, her phone buzzed sharply on the table. Mira glanced at the screen and saw her aunt’s name flashing.
With a sigh, she excused herself and stepped into the corner to take the call.
“Aunt Lydia?” she answered cautiously.
“Mira, the hospital called again,” her aunt said, her voice tight with worry. “Cynthia’s condition is worsening. They said the payment of five hundred thousand naira needs to be settled before tomorrow morning. Please, Mira, I know it’s a lot, but I trust you. Do what you can. Don’t make me worry more than I already do.”
Mira’s brow furrowed. “Tomorrow morning? That’s impossible.”
There was a pause on the other end before her aunt’s voice softened slightly. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but I believe in you. You’ve always been responsible. Just do what you can. Please.”
Mira ended the call and just stood there, her phone still pressed to her ear even after the line went dead.
Her knees weakened. She sank to the floor beside the wall, the noise of the city fading around her. Tears slipped down her cheeks.
“How am I supposed to get that kind of money overnight?” she whispered. “Do I really have to…”
- Writer
