Chapter 11 – When the World Isn’t Watching

Elena didn't return to the Skyview Suite the next day.

She kept her distance—on purpose. Something about the way Damon had looked at her during that last conversation haunted her, lingered in her mind like the final notes of a sad song. She had never been the center of someone's attention before. Not like that. Not with that kind of sincerity.

And it scared her.

That morning, she stuck to lower floors, folding towels with mechanical precision and ignoring the whispers from the other maids who noticed her sudden withdrawal. She had spent the night tossing and turning, her body exhausted but her mind wide awake. She kept replaying his words—"Let me get to know you."

No one got to know her. Not since their parents died. Not since her world changed.

"Elena," a familiar voice called from behind.

She turned and saw Jasmine, one of the few colleagues she could tolerate. Jasmine was around her age, quick-witted and funny when she wasn't complaining about work.

"You okay?" Jasmine asked, walking over with a towel bundle. "You've been… off today."

Elena gave her a tight smile. "Just tired."

"You sure it doesn't have something to do with the fact that Damon Sterling keeps looking at you like you're the only girl in Lagos?"

Elena stiffened. "He doesn't."

"Oh, please," Jasmine said with a roll of her eyes. "Half the staff saw him walk straight past the general manager to greet you yesterday. You know what I'd do if a billionaire so much as smiled at me?"

"Jasmine—"

"I'd fall and pretend to faint, maybe sue for emotional damage, then marry him in court."

Elena chuckled in spite of herself, and Jasmine grinned in victory.

But that night, as she walked home with aching feet and a pounding head, she couldn't stop thinking about what Jasmine said. Damon did look at her differently. And it wasn't just a passing curiosity. It felt deeper. Intentional.

She didn't know how to feel about that.

—

Two nights later, Elena was just locking up the small food stall she ran on weekends—a side hustle she did secretly to pay for Lily's schoolbooks—when a sleek black car pulled up to the corner of the street. She froze, the padlock still in her hand.

The window rolled down.

It was him.

"Elena."

She walked over, glancing around nervously. "What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you."

"You can't be serious."

"I am."

She folded her arms, hiding her surprise with irritation. "How did you even know I'd be here?"

"I asked someone at the hotel. You weren't at work. They mentioned you sometimes leave early on Fridays."

She narrowed her eyes. "You're tracking my schedule now?"

"No," he said calmly. "I just wanted to talk. I figured you'd avoid me at the hotel, and I was right."

"You're supposed to be at fancy parties with champagne, not on the side of the road next to fried yam and pure water."

"I'm where I want to be," he said simply.

She shook her head, trying to bite back the sudden swirl of emotions. "Damon, you don't understand. My life is not easy. It's messy. Complicated. You don't belong in it."

"I disagree," he said. "In fact, I've never felt more like myself than when I'm around you."

Elena looked away. "This is crazy. You don't even know me."

"Then help me fix that."

He stepped out of the car and leaned on the hood, folding his arms, waiting. Not rushing her. Not pressuring her. Just waiting.

Elena stared at him, her heart pounding. She felt a thousand things at once—fear, curiosity, longing, and the heavy guilt that always sat on her chest.

"You want to know me?" she asked quietly. "Fine. I wake up at 4:30 a.m. every day. I sweep the apartment. I get Lily ready. I pack her lunch. Then I walk to work because I can't afford the bus every day. After cleaning rooms and smiling at guests who don't remember my name, I come here and sell food until dark."

Damon didn't interrupt.

She continued, her voice shaking now. "I don't have time to dream. Or hope. Or fall in love. And every time I think I can breathe, something else goes wrong. So tell me, Damon—what part of that sounds like something you want to be involved in?"

"The part where you never give up," he said.

His words caught her off guard.

"I don't care about status, Elena. I care that you work twice as hard as most people and still manage to be kind. I care that you're raising your sister on your own. And I care that you've been carrying the world alone, with no one to lean on."

Elena looked at him, her eyes wide.

"I'm not asking you to love me," he said. "Not yet. I'm just asking for a chance to stand beside you."

Tears burned her eyes, and she blinked quickly, angry at herself for feeling so much.

"I don't know how to let people in," she whispered.

"Then let me show you how," he replied.

For the first time, she didn't tell him no.

She just stood there, under the orange glow of a flickering streetlight, and let the silence say yes.