Chapter 3:- THAT OLD DOG.

"Ma'am, you were driving at a speed of 100mph, which is above the designated speed limit, and the consequences of such actions are quite severe," the police officer said sternly, eyeing Damilola's car. Damilola rolled down her window with a forced smile, trying to think of a way to get out of the situation.

If the police officer took her offense seriously, she would have to pay a substantial fine, which was currently a problem for her due to her outstanding debts. If he recognized her, she knew she wouldn't be able to leave without paying the fine, as she had a previous encounter with him when she got into a fight with a bookshop owner a few weeks ago, resulting in the police being called.

The bookshop owner had been rude and insulted her when she couldn't pay for a book due to misplaced money. In a fit of anger, Damilola slapped the bookshop owner, resulting in her arrest by the same police officer who was now standing in front of her.

"Please officer, I apologize for my speeding. I was running late for work and I made a mistake. I am sincerely sorry and it won't happen again," Damilola pleaded, hoping to appeal to the officer's leniency.

"You call driving at 100mph just a little?" The officer replied, sounding unimpressed.

Damilola felt frustrated. "Why is he focusing on the wrong details? I need to get out of here," she thought to herself, annoyed.

"I'll take your word for it this time, but please remember to drive carefully for your own safety in the future," the officer said, letting her off with a warning.

"Thank you, sir," Damilola said, relieved, as she opened her car door to leave.

"Not so fast," the officer said, raising a finger to stop her.

Damilola paused, looking at him with a puzzled expression. "What does he want now?" she wondered.

"I need to see your driver's license, proof of registration, vehicle insurance, and manual," the officer requested.

Damilola handed over the requested documents, and the officer checked them thoroughly before returning them to her, allowing her to drive off.

Damilola arrived at work one hour later than her designated time, and as expected, her manager, Mr. Brian, was waiting for her at the entrance. Mr. Brian, a middle-aged bald man, approached her with anger written all over his face.

"So, our little princess decided to grace us with her presence at last. Welcome, your majesty," Mr. Brian said sarcastically.

Damilola suddenly felt apologetic. As a receptionist, she knew the importance of punctuality, but she had been consistently late to work. "I'm sorry, sir," she said sincerely.

"Save your apologies. I'm not buying it. I'll deduct ten percent of your salary as a penalty," Mr. Brian said angrily, dismissing her attempts to explain herself.

Damilola gritted her teeth in frustration. "I can't stand this man. I wish I could just end his miserable life," she muttered under her breath, not realizing someone was behind her.

"Hey, Alex, who are you talking to?" a voice said, startling her. She turned around to see Mr. Ray, one of her colleagues, approaching her.

Alexandra Hall was the name Damilola had adopted when she moved from Nigeria to America to make it easier for others to pronounce her real name.

"Oh, Mr. Ray, I was just lost in thought about my tasks for the day," Damilola said quickly, hoping he hadn't overheard her muttering.

"Please refrain from addressing me as 'Mr. Ray', Ray would be sufficient."

"Understood, Mr. Ray. My apologies, Ray," the person replied, and he couldn't help but smile.

"By the way, you arrived late today. Was there an issue?" He asked, genuinely concerned for her.

Damilola smiled, grateful that someone actually cared for her, unlike her incompetent manager.

"It was nothing significant, sir. I was just stopped by the police, nothing more," she responded, trying to remain composed.

"Why?" He inquired further.

Damilola felt irritated. "Even if he cares, can't he leave me alone? He's asking too many questions," she thought to herself.

"Speeding," she replied tersely.

"I see," he nodded.

Ray was a handsome man, tall and well-built, with African-American heritage. He was Mr. Jake, the General Manager's, personal assistant, making him her boss.

Ray had harbored feelings for Damilola for some time, but had not yet revealed them to her.

"Well then, I should be on my way now. I have a lot of tasks to attend to," he said with a charming smile, as he turned to head inside.

"Finally," Damilola muttered to herself with relief, and replied, "Alright, Mr. Ray," as she made her way towards the entrance to start her work for the day.

He suddenly stopped in his tracks and called out to her, "Alex?"

"Yes?" She turned to face him.

"I was just thinking, perhaps when you have some free time, you could join me for dinner," he said nervously, his gaze fixed on Damilola, who remained indifferent. "But I understand if you can't," he added, disappointed.

"Is it like a date or something?" Damilola blurted out before she could stop herself. It was as if her mouth had a mind of its own.

He smiled awkwardly at her and replied, "Well, you could say that."

"I will consider it, sir," Damilola replied, knowing fully well that she had no intention of accepting his invitation.

"Alright then, I'll be waiting to hear from you," he said, holding on to his last glimmer of hope. "Goodbye," he continued, and walked away.

Ray was a good-looking, pleasant, and kind person, but he simply wasn't her type. Besides, he was her best friend's crush, and Damilola couldn't bring herself to hurt her friend in that way.

She entered the hotel and discovered a long queue waiting. "No wonder the manager was so angry," she thought to herself.

She quickly went to the changing room and changed into her work uniform - a white shirt, a grey skirt, and a grey suit, with a black scarf tied neatly around her neck like a bow.