His Old Money World

Chapter 9 - Morning After

I woke up at 5:02am in a bed that wasn't mine.

For one second I didn't know where I was. White duvet. Cold AC. Smell of expensive men's perfume.

Then I remembered. The rain. The flashlight. His hand on my cheek.

I sat up so fast my wrapper almost fell off. I grabbed my clothes from the floor — I had slept in my t-shirt and wrapper like a thief — and ran to the door.

The hallway was dark and silent. No one.

I tiptoed down the back stairs like a criminal, heart hammering, barefoot, holding my slippers in my hand so they wouldn't make noise. My small staff room door was still open.

I slipped inside, locked it, and sat on my bed, breathing hard.

5:15am. I made it.

My cheek was still warm where he touched me.

I splashed water on my face and went to the kitchen to start work, acting like nothing happened.

At 6am, Mrs. Bisi came in, yawning. "NEPA took light for staff wing last night. You sleep well?"

"Yes ma," I lied, stirring tea. "I slept."

At 6:45am, Adrian came downstairs.

He was already dressed for work. Navy blue suit. No tie. Hair perfectly brushed. Cold old money mask back on like last night never happened.

He didn't look at me. He took his coffee from Mrs. Bisi and went to his study.

My chest sank. Stupid girl. What did I expect? That he would smile at me?

At 7:30am, Simi arrived. Loud. Perfumed. Angry that it rained.

She walked into the kitchen and saw me.

"Amara! My white dress from yesterday — where is it?"

"I ironed it, ma. It's in your guest closet."

She looked at me, then sniffed the air. "Why does the guest room smell like you? Did you go upstairs?"

My blood froze.

"No, ma. I didn't."

She stared at me, eyes narrowed. "You better not. That room is for important people. Not for maids who want to climb beds to get out of poverty. I know your type. Mainland girls who come to Ikoyi to catch a rich man."

My eyes filled with tears.

Adrian's study door opened. He came out, phone in hand.

"Simi, let's go. We are late for breakfast with your parents."

Simi turned to him, smiling instantly. "Yes, darling. Let's go. This girl was just—"

"Let's go," he repeated, cutting her. He walked past me without looking, but as he passed, his finger brushed the back of my hand on the counter. Just for half a second.

Light. Intentional.

A warning? A promise? I didn't know.

But when he left, I touched that spot on my hand and for the first time since I came to this mansion to be invisible, I smiled in the kitchen.

Because last night, cold old money Adrian Adeyemi had let a mainland maid sleep in his house.

And he remembered where I slept.