THE ACCIDENT.
1406 Words
Chapter 6: The Accident
Three days after the surgery, Amara’s mother was moved to a recovery ward. Stronger. Talking more. Teasing Amara about “that handsome devil you married.” Amara blushed every time. Damian pretended not to hear.
The contract said six months. It didn’t say anything about feelings. But feelings were growing anyway, slow and dangerous, like weeds through concrete.
On Friday morning, Damian’s driver was sick. Mrs. Blake called Amara. “Mr. Cole has a meeting across town at 9. Can you drive him? He doesn’t trust new drivers.”
Amara stared at the phone. “I don’t have a license.”
“You have a driver’s permit,” Mrs. Blake said. “From two years ago. Mr. Cole checked.”
Amara cursed under her breath. “Fine.”
Damian waited by the Bentley, suit perfect, expression blank. He handed her the keys without a word. She took them, hands shaking.
“I haven’t driven in years,” she admitted as she slid into the driver’s seat.
“Then don’t crash,” Damian said, getting in the passenger side. “Lagos traffic will teach you fast.”
She pulled out of the gates too slow, then too fast. The car jerked. Damian gripped the handle.
“Breathe, Amara,” he said.
“I’m breathing,” she snapped. But her knuckles were white on the wheel.
Traffic was madness. Danfos cutting lanes. Okadas weaving. Horns screaming. Amara’s heart pounded. She checked the mirror, switched lanes, and didn’t see the motorcycle until Damian yelled.
“Stop!”
She slammed the brakes. The Bentley screeched. The motorcycle swerved and fell. The rider slid across the road, cursing.
Amara’s breath stopped. “Oh God. Oh God, did I—”
Damian was already out of the car. He ran to the rider, checking him over. “You okay? Any bones broken?”
The man stood up, limping, shaking with anger. “You people in big cars think you own the road! I could have died!”
“I’m sorry,” Amara whispered, getting out. Her legs felt weak. “I didn’t see you. I’m so sorry.”
Damian stepped between her and the man. “He’s fine. Let’s talk money. How much for the bike repairs? And your time?”
“I don’t want your money!” the man shouted. A crowd was gathering. Phones came out, recording. “I want you arrested!”
Damian pulled out his wallet. Thick with cash. “Name your price before this becomes a scene.”
The man named a number that made Amara dizzy. Damian counted it out without blinking. The man took it, still cursing, but walked away.
Amara stood frozen. “I’m so sorry. I could have killed him. I—”
Damian turned to her. His face was hard. Not angry. Terrified. “Get in the car. Now.”
They drove in silence to his office. Amara couldn’t stop shaking. When they arrived, Damian slammed the car door and walked inside without her.
Amara followed, confused. Hurt. She’d made a mistake. But he was acting like she’d committed a crime.
In his office, he poured himself whiskey at 10 AM. “Do you know what would have happened if you hit him?” he asked, not turning around.
“I said I’m sorry,” Amara said, voice small.
“Sorry doesn’t fix headlines,” Damian snapped. “Cole CEO’s Wife Causes Accident. Cole Empire Faces Lawsuit. Stock Drops 10%. That’s what happens, Amara.”
Amara flinched. “I didn’t know. I’m not used to—”
“You’re Mrs. Cole now,” Damian cut her off. “You don’t get to be ‘not used to’ things anymore. Every move you make affects my name. My company. My family.”
Tears burned Amara’s eyes. “I’m not a machine, Damian. I’m human. I make mistakes.”
Damian slammed the glass down. Whiskey spilled. “Don’t make mistakes that cost lives!”
The room went silent. Amara stared at him. His chest was rising and falling fast. His hands were fists. Not angry at her. Scared for her.
“Oh,” Amara whispered. “You’re not mad I almost crashed. You’re mad I could have been hurt.”
Damian didn’t answer. He walked to the window, back to her. Again.
Amara crossed the room. Slow. Careful. She touched his arm. He didn’t pull away.
“You were scared,” she said softly.
“I don’t get scared,” Damian lied.
“You do,” Amara said. “You were scared in the hospital. You’re scared now. Why?”
Damian turned. His eyes were dark, conflicted. “Because you’re part of this now. Because if something happens to you, the contract means nothing. Because I—” He stopped himself.
“Because you what?” Amara pressed.
“Because I don’t want to explain to your mother why you didn’t come home,” Damian finished, voice low. “That’s all.”
It was a lie. Amara knew it. But she let him have it.
“I’m sorry,” she said again. “I’ll take driving lessons. I won’t drive you again until I’m good.”
Damian sighed, running a hand through his hair. “No. You’ll drive me tomorrow. You need to learn. But with me beside you. And no more checking your phone while driving.”
Amara blinked. “You want me to drive you again?”
“I want you to get better,” Damian said simply. “Mistakes don’t mean you stop. They mean you learn.”
He walked to his desk and pulled out a small box. Tossed it to her. Amara caught it.
Inside: a gold bracelet. Simple. Elegant. Her name engraved inside. _Amara Cole._
“It’s for protection,” Damian said gruffly. “In case something happens. The clasp has a GPS tracker. Security can find you.”
Amara looked up at him. “You think I’ll get kidnapped?”
“I think the world is dangerous,” Damian said. “And you’re mine now. I protect what’s mine.”
The word _mine_ again. Amara put the bracelet on. It fit perfectly. Warm against her skin.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
Damian nodded once. “Now go home. Mrs. Blake will call a driver. No more driving today. You’ve had enough trauma.”
Amara left, but she didn’t feel dismissed. She felt… claimed. Protected. The bracelet felt heavier than gold. It felt like a promise.
That night, she couldn’t sleep. She kept seeing the motorcycle falling. Kept hearing Damian yell _Stop_. Kept feeling his hand on her arm in the office.
Her phone buzzed. Damian. A text. No words. Just a photo of her mother sleeping, peaceful.
Amara typed back: _I’m okay. Thanks for today._
Three dots. Then: _You drive like a child. But you have good instincts. You stopped in time._
Amara smiled in the dark. _High praise from Mr. Cole._
Another text: _Go to sleep, Amara. You scared me today._
She stared at those words for a long time. _You scared me._ Damian Cole. The man who owned buildings. Who destroyed companies. Scared because of her.
She typed: _You scared me too. In the office._
His reply came fast: _Good. Means you’re learning me._
Amara clutched the phone to her chest. The bracelet caught the light. Amara Cole. Not just a name on paper anymore.
Down the hall, Damian sat in his dark office, whiskey untouched. He replayed the moment Amara slammed the brakes. The way her face went pale. The way she whispered _I’m so sorry_ like a child.
He’d wanted to pull her into his arms right there on the road. Hold her until the shaking stopped. Tell her she was safe. That he’d never let anything happen to her.
But he didn’t. Because contracts had rules. Because feelings were dangerous. Because he was Damian Cole and he didn’t do soft.
But tonight, he almost did. And that terrified him more than any accident.
Six months, he thought. But after today, he wasn’t sure he could let her go in six months.
The bracelet on her wrist was supposed to be for security. But really, it was for him. So he could always know where she was. So he’d never lose her.
Damian closed his eyes. “Stupid,” he muttered to the empty room. “She’s just a contract.”
But his heart didn’t believe it anymore.
- Writer
