His Old Money World

Chapter 6 - The Night In The Kitchen

After the slap, Simi made sure I worked double.

I was not allowed to eat with the other staff. I had to clean the pool house. I was to wake by 4:30am.

By midnight on Friday, everyone was asleep. Or so I thought.

My stomach was growling so loud I couldn't sleep. I hadn't eaten since morning — Simi said the chicken in the fridge was for the family, not staff.

I tiptoed to the kitchen in my night wrapper and an old t-shirt, barefoot. I was going to just drink garri with cold water.

The fridge light was already on.

Adrian was there.

He was sitting at the kitchen island, laptop open, in sweatpants and no shirt. His back was... I looked away fast. I had never seen a man like that in real life. Not in Yaba.

He looked up. Saw me. Frowned.

"Why are you awake?"

"Sorry sir! I— I wanted water, sir." My wrapper slipped a little and I held it tight.

He stared at me for a second too long. Then he closed his laptop.

"At midnight?"

I nodded, lying.

He stood up, went to the fridge, opened it. He brought out bread, butter, a plate of leftover steak, and juice.

"Sit," he said.

"Sir, I can't— staff not allowed—"

"Sit, Amara."

I sat on the farthest stool, knees together, wrapper covering everything. He pushed the plate towards me.

"Eat."

I wanted to say no out of pride. But my stomach betrayed me. I took a small piece of bread.

He watched me eat. Not creepy. Just... studying. Like I was something he didn't understand.

"You are nineteen?" he asked.

"Yes sir."

"Why are you working as a maid in Ikoyi instead of school?"

The question hurt more than Simi's slap. "My mother is sick. My JAMB... I will write next year. I need money now."

He nodded. No pity. Just listening.

"Your hand," he said. "Show me."

My right hand had a small burn from the iron earlier. I hid it.

"It's nothing."

He reached across the island and took my wrist gently. His hand was warm, huge. He looked at the red mark.

"Put cream. In the medicine cabinet. Tell Bisi tomorrow."

"Yes sir."

He let go, but slowly. Like he didn't want to.

We sat in that huge, silent kitchen — billionaire and maid — eating midnight steak at 12:13am. The air conditioning was too cold, but my skin was hot.

"You should not be here at midnight in that," he said suddenly, looking at my wrapper.

I panicked, pulling it tighter. "Sorry sir, I—"

"Not like that," he cut himself, looking away, jaw tight. "Go and sleep after eating. Simi comes at 7am tomorrow. Don't be in her way."

I nodded, tears in my eyes again. Not from sadness. From being seen.

"Thank you, sir."

He opened his laptop again, dismissing me. But I felt his eyes on my back as I walked out with the empty plate, wrapper swaying.