I sat on my bed, phone in hand, still reeling from the shock of Damola hanging up on me. This definitely meant he was mad at me, and I hated the fact that I couldn't be with him as long as James was around. James always seemed to ruin things for me, and Mama found him nice, which only made things worse.
I got dressed in a simple beach gown, light and free, and was about to open the door when Cassie knocked.
"Oh, hi Cassie, what's up?" I asked.
"Boss said I should give this to you," she replied, handing me a shopping bag with the Chanel logo on it.
I opened the bag and gasped in surprise. "What is this for?" I asked, staring at the beautiful party dress inside.
"You're going to attend a party with Boss before you go to the beach," Cassie explained. "Please get ready soon; the makeup artist will be with you shortly."
I was taken aback. "A party?!!!!!" I screamed. I couldn't believe James was making decisions about my life without even consulting me.
I stormed into the living room, ready to give James a piece of my mind, but was shocked to find the room filled with strangers.
"Good day, ma'am," a stylishly dressed man said, walking up to me. "We're here to work on your look."
I was stunned. "What's going on here?" I asked, trying to process the chaos.
The man explained that they were my makeup artists, stylists, and jewelers, all there to help me get ready for the party.
I was overwhelmed. Fifteen people were going to be working on my look? Just for me? Was James crazy?
Just then, James appeared behind me. "First of all, I'm not going to any party, and where's my mother?" I demanded.
"She's at the beach," James replied calmly. "She's with my uncle; we'll join them later after the party."
I was furious. "What?! And didn't you think it was necessary to tell me you needed me to go to a party with you?"
James shrugged. "I don't need you to go with me, you are going to the party with me."
I was fed up. "So that's the case? Since you want me, I don't want you, and I'm going to my room. Nobody disturb me!" I yelled, storming off to my room.
But James followed me, holding the door open. "I said I don't want to be disturbed!" I screamed, pushing him away.
James grabbed my shoulders and pushed me against the wall. "Who do you think you are that you can just make decisions related to my life? I don't want to do anything or go anywhere with you. Please."
James kneeled in front of me, his eyes locked on mine. "Sandra, I need you to calm down."
I glared at him. "Just leave me alone."
But James persisted. "I'm very sorry, okay? I need you to go with me."
I raised an eyebrow. "Why?"
James hesitated before speaking. "Because I just want you there, and you wouldn't want to disappoint your mother. She's waiting for us, and she's looking forward to having a fun time with you."
I sighed, knowing I couldn't resist the mention of my mother. "Fine, I'll go."
James's expressionless face betrayed a hint of a smile. "You can call them in," I said, resigned, and sat in front of my dressing mirror.
The stylists and makeup artists swarmed in, and I couldn't help but feel like a princess being prepared for a royal ball.
As they worked on my look, I asked, "Do you guys know what party we'll be attending?"
The head makeup artist replied, "Yes, ma'am, it's the biggest award party for top businessmen in Africa."
I was impressed. "Really?"
"Yes ma'am, you might also see celebrities there and many famous people," the makeup artist said.
I raised an eyebrow. "Wow, that's cool."
The makeup artist nodded enthusiastically. "Very cool. And they all come with a plus one - either their girlfriends, wives, or fiancés. Are you dating Mr. James?"
I shook my head vehemently. "No! Never!"
The makeup artist's face fell, and he turned to his colleagues. "Aw, that's sad. You guys look really good together, right?"
The other stylists and makeup artists nodded in agreement, and I felt a flush rise to my cheeks.
"We don't look good," I protested. "And he's so annoying and arrogant. I would never want to be with a person like that."
As I stood in Sandra's sitting room, waiting for her to finish getting ready, I couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement. I had been looking forward to this evening all day.
Davis burst in, interrupting my thoughts. "Boss, he's not coming for the awards."
I raised an eyebrow. "As usual, he's not interested in anything related to business. That's why Dad handed it over to me, and now I get to win the award instead of him."
Davis looked skeptical. "But boss, how are you sure they'll give it to you just because he's not there?"
I smiled confidently. "Of course, they will. Prepare the cars; we'll be out in fifteen minutes."
As Davis left, I couldn't help but feel a sense of pride. This was my chance to prove myself, to show everyone that I was more than just my father's son.
I waited for what felt like an eternity for Sandra to finish getting ready. Finally, she called out to me. "Mr. James."
I turned to see her standing in the doorway, looking like an angel in her light blue gown and silver accessories. I felt my heart skip a beat.
"Can we go now?" she asked, looking at me expectantly.
I shook my head. "No."
Sandra raised an eyebrow. "No? What do you want now? I've gotten ready, and I'm ready to go, and now you're telling me no? Aren't we late?"
I smiled, enjoying the banter. "No."
Sandra rolled her eyes. "Another no? See, let's go before I change my mind."
I chuckled, holding out my hand. "You didn't give me a chance to compliment you."
Sandra looked at me warily, but I could see the faintest glimmer of amusement in her eyes. "I don't need your compliments; it's only going to waste more time. Let's just go and get this over with."
I held her hand, pulling her back. "I said you should give me a chance to tell you how good you look."
Sandra's eyes flashed with annoyance, but I could see the attraction between us, sparking like a live wire.
"Let go of me," she whispered, struggling to loosen my grip.
I looked into her eyes, my voice low and husky. "You look so..."
But before I could finish, Sandra bit my shoulder, and I let out a startled yelp. She ran to the car, leaving me standing there, laughing.
As I got into the car, Sandra looked at me through the window, her eyes wide with concern. I smiled, reassuring her. "Don't worry, I'm not mad."
Sandra slowly put down her hands, looking at me warily. "You're not mad?"
I shook my head. "I have no reason to be."
Sandra looked at me, her expression puzzled. "OMG, where is Mr. James, and what have you done to him?"
I chuckled, enjoying the lighthearted moment. "Good; I'm not mad at you, you're too beautiful for that."
Sandra's cheeks flushed, and she looked away, trying to hide her smile.
As we drove up to the large building, I couldn't help but feel a sense of nervousness. The flashes from cameras and phones were overwhelming, and I squinted my eyes to block out the light.
James got out of the car and spoke with the security guards, and I noticed that the paparazzi had stopped taking pictures. I was puzzled, but James opened the door and offered me his hand.
"Come on; I'm here," he said with a slight smile.
I took a deep breath and stepped out of the car, feeling a sense of relief as James led me away from the cameras.
As we walked, James kept looking at me, smiling, and I found myself smiling back. It was nice to see him in a different light.
"We're inside," James said, as we stopped in front of an elevator.
I looked around, realizing that James had cleverly distracted me from the paparazzi until we reached the safety of the building.
"Thank you," I said, smiling at him in gratitude.
James smiled back, and we stepped into the elevator. As the doors closed behind us, I felt a sense of relief wash over me.
"Why didn't Davis come in the elevator with us?" I asked.
"He'll come later," James replied.
"Why?" I pressed.
"Because that's what I want," James said, his expression neutral.
I murmured under my breath, "Unfortunately, you get what you want."
James raised an eyebrow. "I didn't catch that."
I shook my head. "It's nothing."
But James persisted. "I get what I want because I have power."
I muttered again, "And you make people miserable."
James stepped closer to me, his eyes locked on mine. "Are you scared of me?"
I shook my head immediately. "No."
But James wasn't convinced. "Are you sure? Because if you weren't, you would have the courage to say those things you were murmuring."
I took a deep breath and let it all out. "I'm not scared of you, James. You're just as human as I am. The only being I fear is God."
James raised an eyebrow. "Then say it."
I hesitated, but James's piercing gaze encouraged me to continue. "Whatever you were scared to say out loud to me."
I took a step closer to him, looking him straight in the eye. "Well, yes, maybe I am scared. I'm scared to be around an egoistic man like you who thinks that because he has money and power, he can do whatever he wants. I don't blame you for being you; I blame the people who fear you because of your status, whereas we are all the same - just some lucky brats who are unfortunately opportune."
He remained calm and quiet for a moment, his silence a stark contrast to the tension that had just filled the air. I had expected him to erupt in anger, but instead, he seemed to be collecting his thoughts.
I breathed a sigh of relief, grateful that I had escaped his wrath.
He pinned me against the wall, his arm around my neck not too tightly to hurt me and wrapped tightly around my waist. I gasped, my breath caught in my throat. "Are you scared of me now?" he whispered, his warm breath sending shivers down my spine.
Why are you scared of me Sandra" his words rough, laced with dark amusement, his teeth grazed my neck nipping gently. My heart pounded against my rib cage. I was vaguely aware that this was wrong cause he was being too aggressive and I was barely resisting. My mind kept telling me to push him away but deep down the thrill of the forbidden excites me more than beyond reason.
I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came out. All I could feel was a rush of ecstasy, my senses overwhelmed by his proximity.
"Are you scared of me Sandra" he asked again. His tone growing more intense as his arms goes up further.
I managed to find my voice, though it was barely above a whisper. "No, I'm not scared of you," I said, still trying to catch my breath.
I watched as he stepped back, his eyes never leaving mine. The tension between us was palpable, and I could feel my heart still racing from our close encounter.
"Good," he said , his voice firm but controlled.
The elevator doors slid open, and he gestured for me to exit. I hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to expect next. But with a gentle nod, he encouraged me to step out into the unknown.
I was taken aback. "Good?"