chapter 4: the Banana Island Dinner

The whole sitting room was staring at me like I was a stain on their white rug.

Damian's hand was still holding mine. His grip was tight, like he was telling me not to run.

His mother walked towards me slowly. She was a beautiful older woman, maybe 55, in rich gold lace, with a gele that must cost 200k. But her eyes were not motherly. They were cold, scanning me from my borrowed gold heels to my makeup.

"So you are Lena?" she said, her voice loud enough for everyone to hear. "The girl my son wants to marry?"

I swallowed. "Good evening, ma. I am Lena Adeyemi."

"Adeyemi," she repeated, as if tasting the name. "Which Adeyemi? The Adeyemi of Ondo? The ones that own oil?"

"No, ma. My father is a teacher in Kaduna."

The room went silent. Someone coughed.

Cassandra, the beautiful light-skinned girl in red who was sitting next to Damian before, stood up and laughed. She was his ex. I could tell from the way she looked at Damian - possessive.

"Mummy, I told you," Cassandra said, touching Damian's mother's arm. "Damian is just trying to make me jealous. He picked a small girl from the street. Look at her bag. It's from Boutique Lekki, 15k. I know because my maid buys from there."

My face burned. My small gold bag suddenly felt very cheap.

Damian's father, a tall man with grey hair, said nothing. He just watched.

Damian stepped forward. "Mother, enough."

"Enough what, Damian?" his mother said, still staring at me. "You told us you found a serious girl. A girl with family, with class. Your father and I have been begging you to settle since Cassandra left you. And you bring this... this small girl who doesn't even know how to stand in Banana Island? What is her father's job? Teacher? How much is teacher salary? 50k?"

Tears were coming to my eyes but I refused to cry. I promised myself I was done crying.

I looked at Damian's mother and said quietly, "Ma, my father is a teacher, yes. He earns 45k. But he taught me to respect elders, to work hard, and not to judge people by their bags. I may not have money, but I have manners."

The room gasped.

Cassandra hissed, "How dare you talk back to Mummy!"

But Damian's father suddenly laughed. A loud, deep laugh.

"Ah! She has mouth! I like her!" He stood up and came to me. "You are correct, my daughter. My wife has too much mouth. Come and sit. Don't mind her."

Damian's mother frowned. "Tunde, don't support nonsense."

Damian pulled me to the dining table. The long table had so many plates, forks, spoons, I didn't know which to use. 20 people were there - uncles, aunties, cousins, all rich, all staring.

Cassandra sat directly opposite me, smiling evilly.

Dinner started. The food was too much - lobster, steak, food I had only seen on I*******m. I didn't know how to eat lobster. My hands shook.

Cassandra noticed. "Lena, you don't eat lobster? In your village you eat only garri, right? Let me help you."

She picked a big lobster with her fork and dropped it roughly on my plate, splashing sauce on my green dress. My fine green dress.

"Oops, sorry," she said, not sorry at all.

The table laughed.

My eyes filled with tears. The green dress was ruined. Damian's stylist said he likes green.

I stood up. "Excuse me, I need to go to the bathroom."

I ran to the bathroom and locked the door. I looked at the sauce on my dress and finally cried quietly. Why did I accept this job? Why did I think I could belong here? Michael was right. I am too local.

Then the door knocked.

"Lena? It's me."

Damian.

"Go away, please," I whispered.

"Open the door."

"I can't. My dress is stained."

"Open the door or I will break it."

I opened it. He entered and locked it behind him. The bathroom in Banana Island was bigger than my whole apartment in Kaduna.

He saw the sauce on my dress. His jaw tightened with anger.

"Cassandra did it, didn't she?"

I nodded, wiping tears.

He didn't say anything. He took his handkerchief, wet it, and knelt down in front of me. Damian Knight, billionaire, kneeling in front of me in a bathroom, cleaning sauce from my dress.

"Don't cry," he said softly, looking up at me. "You don't need to impress them. You only need to impress me. And you already did."

His face was so close. His eyes were looking at my lips.

"Damian..." I whispered.

"Lena, I know this was supposed to be one night pretend. But..." He stood up, still very close. "But when my mother insulted you and you talked back, I have never been more proud. My ex never talked back. She only wanted my money. You... you are different."

His hand touched my cheek, wiping a tear.

"Stay with me after tonight. Not as pretend. As real."

My heart stopped. Real? Did he mean real girlfriend?

Before I could answer, the bathroom door banged loudly.

"Damian! Lena! What are you two doing inside there? Come out now! Everybody is waiting!" It was Cassandra's voice, loud and jealous.

Damian didn't move. He looked at me and whispered, "Should we make them wait more?"

He leaned closer, his lips almost touching mine.

Should I let him kiss me?