Shine Bright Like A Diamond: A BWWM Billionaire Love Story (13 page)

Yifeng’s eyes were wide. “In the end, she was happy to have the baby, and it ended up working out with her and her boyfriend, you know. They’re married now and everything, but you have none of those worries to think about! You have the most wonderful husband in the world!” Yifeng smiled, and she looked so deeply sincere that Almasi couldn’t help but play along.

“Yes. Yes, I do,” said Almasi, and it wasn't even a lie. It was true, Jacob really was wonderful. For all of her indecision, Almasi knew that none of it was a reflection of Jacob. Jacob… Jacob was perfect. It was just their situation that happened to be a complicated and horrible challenge.

If Yifeng noticed a hint of melancholy in Almasi’s facial expression, she either chalked it up to the emotions of the pregnancy, or she knew enough not to lead on that she knew something was up. It was probably the latter, since Yifeng was a very observant person, as much as she was chatty, and sometimes came across as a little bit vapid. Almasi knew that she used that bubbly persona to conceal how much she really knew about serious matters. In any case, Yifeng said nothing about it, choosing instead to focus on matters of fashion.

“So, Almasi, I went out yesterday and got some new fabrics and some dress samples,” said Yifeng. “Since you’re not showing too much yet, you can keep wearing the same clothing, and maybe we will just take out a few of the seams, but eventually you will need something for your maternity wardrobe!” She clapped her hands a little in excitement.

“This is going to be so lovely! Anyway, I picked out some flowing and stretchy materials that will flatter your body and keep you comfortable, as you and the little baby inside grow bigger. I can take more measurements of you and use those to estimate what sizes you will need as the months go on.”

Almasi stopped herself from objecting, knowing that there would be no explanation that would sound reasonable for her to tell Yifeng not to plan on her being around for much longer without arousing suspicion. “But for now, which fabrics do you like best?” She held up a roll of soft purple material in a light lilac shade. “I love this one, and I think it would look beautiful on you, and this,” she picked up a silky material in a deep burgundy color, “this will be so nice for evening wear! It flows nicely, and you can match it with a lipstick color so easily!”

She got out another roll of fabric. Had she bought out an entire store? Almasi shook her head and smiled a little in amusement. “This one is a little brighter, for some happy color!” said Yifeng. It was a bright yellow, like the sunflowers in the garden.

Almasi grinned. This material was perfect. She tested it between her fingers. It was soft, too. She could imagine how lovely it would be to feel that fabric against her skin, especially as her body was becoming more sensitive and tender. A fabric like this would be a little piece of heaven on earth while she grew big like a mother goddess. “Thank you,” she said a little breathlessly, smiling widely at Yifeng. “They’re all beautiful, but I love this one especially. It’s divine.”

Yifeng beamed. “That’s so perfect!” she exclaimed. “I have so many ideas for items and outfits to make out of this material. We could make you an empire waist dress, or a nice long skirt, or even a beautiful scarf. I know, a dress and a matching headband! It would be so perfect. It
will
be so perfect. Oh, Almasi, I have never been more excited to assemble an outfit in my life!”

Almasi laughed. Leave it to Yifeng to use hyperbole like that and to make everything into such an exciting opportunity. She was always such an energetic young person, but Almasi was excited, too, more so than she had been before. If this was pregnancy, with new soft outfits and fun, beautiful things, then she was more than happy to be pregnant.

Almasi and Yifeng spent a little over an hour making plans for outfits and taking measurements, telling stories and jokes, and laughing all the while as they so often did when Almasi had dress fittings and the like. Eventually, Yifeng had to leave, and she bid Almasi goodbye with a hug and a kiss on the cheek, promising to be back soon with more fabric and some new dress patterns sewn up.

Almasi thanked her and gave her a generous tip, as she always did. She made a point of tipping all of the serving staff, but it was Yifeng whom she loved especially, so she always gave her a little extra money.

The girl deserved it for her work, for the dedication she gave to her mistress and the joy and light she brought to all of their fittings. Almasi smiled as Yifeng left. She was so happy to have Yifeng’s friendship, even though in many ways it was something she paid for just like all of the other luxuries in her life.

After slipping into a comfortable green cotton dress to go downstairs for dinner, Almasi put on her shoes and headed down to the dining room. She realized when she got there that the cook would be serving the meal al fresco tonight, so she went on her way outside.

She was a little early, and Jacob was not even home yet, but she might as well enjoy the sunlight on the patio in the half hour or so before the rest of them gathered. She sat down in a cushioned patio chair and closed her eyes for a moment. Ah, the fresh air was so lovely, and she could hear birds singing, and…

Was that the sound of footsteps? It must be one of the servants who had come to prepare the table, but when Almasi opened her eyes, she saw that the person standing on the deck was none other than Mr. Kofi Kumi. Almasi froze. Oh no. Oh no, no, no, no, no…

Mr. Kofi Kumi smiled. “Almasi,” he said lightly. “How are you on this fine evening?” The even tone of his voice was betrayed by the feral intensity of his gaze, as his dark eyes looked Almasi up and down.

Almasi suddenly wished that she hadn’t worn such a revealing dress. She felt dirty with this man’s eyes on her. She stood up. She had to stand her ground. She couldn’t let this man think that he could walk all over her, and she refused to let him think that he would win her affections by blackmailing her. She squared her shoulders and frowned at him.

“What do you want?” she asked, although she knew what he wanted.

Mr. Kofi Kumi chuckled. “Now, now,” he began, “is that the way to speak to your future husband?” He reached out to take her hand, but she pulled away. The audacity of this man!

“You know very well that I have no intention of leaving Jacob for you,” said Almasi, but the shaking of her voice betrayed her. She was scared.

Mr. Kofi Kumi drew back his hand, but he stepped closer to Almasi. “That is an admirable sentiment, and yet…” he smiled, and his grin looked predatory, like a wolf about to devour a sheep. “ We both know that that’s not quite true.”

Almasi couldn’t think of anything to say. Her heart was racing, and her throat felt like it was closing in on her.

Seeing that she couldn’t find any words to speak for herself, Mr. Kofi Kumi continued. “Your sense of duty to Mr. Adamson is honorable, Almasi, but is it really what you feel in your heart?” he asked. Damn him for using her first name so much when he talked to her. It felt intimate, like a violation.
I should be Mrs. Adamson to him
, she thought, but acknowledging her marital status was not what Mr. Kofi Kumi had in mind, and Almasi knew it well. The thought gave her the shivers, and clearly, this was the topic he had cornered her to discuss.

“It is,” said Almasi. “I love my husband, and there is absolutely nothing you can do to keep me apart from him.” Her bravado was false, and her voice shook, but she stood her ground. Almasi was not going to lose this.

“Does he know that?” asked Mr. Kofi Kumi, with an expression that would have seemed sympathetic if Almasi had not known better. “Or does Mr. Adamson think that you only see him as a business associate?” Almasi’s stomach sank, and Mr. Kofi Kumi continued. “You don’t really think that he’ll want you to stay after the month is over, do you? I saw what you wrote in that silly little diary of yours.

You have a contract with him, nothing else, and once my brother finds out that your marriage to your husband is a sham, you will have nothing. Not the money Mr. Adamson promised you, not the loving marriage you so foolishly want with him… not even the respect of the man to whom you promised discretion in your fake marriage contract. What options do you have?”

Almasi was fighting back tears now. As much as she hated Mr. Kofi Kumi, his words were convincing, and she couldn’t help but think that he was right about everything. He was right about the diamond deal and the danger of Mr. Arko Kumi finding out about the marriage. He was right about the marriage itself being under false pretenses and not meant to last. He was probably even right about what would happen if Jacob found out that she had been so careless in allowing her diary to be read.

Mr. Kofi Kumi stepped closer to her. “You have one option, and it’s a good and viable one. I’m a very rich man, and I will provide for you. You can come live in Ghana with me, in my mansion in Accra. It’s bigger than this place. Do you think that twenty servants is a lot? My home has a hundred.

All the luxury that you have here is nothing compared to what you have with me, and most importantly,” he said, stepping even closer still and putting a hand on her cheek, “You will save yourself from the agony of letting Mr. Adamson know that you have failed him.”

Almasi’s heart was racing, and just as she was about to step back, to flinch away, Mr. Kofi Kumi grabbed her other hand and pulled her close to him, forcing her into a harsh kiss. His lips were soft, and his breath tasted of spiced oranges, but his grip on her arm was harsh, and he moved his other hand to her waist to keep her from wrenching away.

She struggled with him for a moment, trying to force him off her, trying to make this horrible invasion stop, but Mr. Kofi Kumi was a strong man, and his strength overbore hers, and so after a few moments she gave up and waited for it to be over.

After another moment, she heard footsteps coming from the mansion and the glass door to the patio opening. Mr. Kofi Kumi seemed to hear the sound too, as his grip finally relaxed enough for her to wriggle away from him. She turned toward the door, and her face immediately fell. Standing directly across from her with a look of utter betrayal on his face was none other than Jacob Adamson.

Chapter7

Jacob’s breath caught in his throat, and he found himself standing there, paralyzed in the entrance between the mansion and the patio. He stared at Almasi, who had just hastily pulled apart from an intimate embrace with Mr. Kofi Kumi. His eyes darted between their faces. Mr. Kofi Kumi’s expression was one of surprise and mild guilt, and Almasi…

Almasi looked terrified. Horrified at being caught kissing a man who was not her husband. Jacob felt like all of the air had been sucked out of the atmosphere. He could hardly form a coherent thought, but rage was boiling up inside his belly. He had never suspected… What a fool he was… and Almasi… How, how
could
she?

But of course. Their marriage had never been for love. Maybe he’d had those feelings grow out of it, but it had never been her obligation to feel the same way. Love was not in the job description, but surely cheating—and with the brother of her husband’s business partner, of all people!—surely that went against their agreement? Jacob’s mind swam with thoughts, none adding up into a coherent picture.

Of course, she could never have fallen in love with him. They hadn’t known even each other for an entire day before they had signed the contract, and the affectionate glances, the terms of endearment, the kisses—even the sex—it must have all been play acting. Just the theatrics of a clever woman doing her job and making herself some good money off a rich jewelry company owner.

It felt so real, though,
thought Jacob, feeling hurt and angry. He was a fool. He had let his heart get involved, and now everything was blowing up in his face. This was what came of trusting people. This was what came of letting people make you vulnerable. Jacob blinked back tears, and forced the pain he was feeling to manifest itself as anger instead. He would deal with this emptiness later. For now, he filled himself up with unadulterated rage.

As these thoughts went whirring through Jacob’s head, Almasi opened and closed her mouth multiple times, and eventually she spoke. “Jacob—” she began plaintively. “Jacob, I—”

As if he would let that conniving woman speak. As
if 
he would let her explain this away, allowing her to turn the story around in her favor. No.

“Shut up,” he said forcefully. “Just—don’t talk to me.” He shook his head, glaring, and turned to walk away before embarrassing himself further in front of Mr. Kofi Kumi. In front of his wife’s… his wife’s lover.

“No, Jacob, listen!” Almasi begged, tears forming in her eyes and beginning to stream down her face. “Please, you don't understand!”

Jacob would hear nothing of it. He turned on his heel and walked off into the mansion. He dodged into a side corridor as he saw Mr. Arko Kumi walking around the corner to go outside. Damn it, it was dinner soon.

Would he have to face his cheating wife in front of his business partner? Would he have to pretend to make small talk while he sat at the table, eating whatever delicacy was on the menu while the rage he felt ate away at him? No. He had to find a way out. Stepping into an empty room, Jacob pulled his phone out of his pocket. There was only one person to call to help him get out of this situation.

Almasi ran after Jacob, but couldn’t find him when she got inside. Instead, she found Mr. Arko Kumi walking down the hall toward the door to the patio.
Oh no,
she thought. Of course, she had to behave as if everything was normal. Continue to entertain the guests. She couldn’t afford to let on to what was happening. So she quickly wiped the tears off her face, straightened her back, and walked toward Mr. Arko Kumi with a smile.

“Good evening, Mrs. Adamson,” said Mr. Arko Kumi evenly, his face completely expressionless as usual.

“Good evening, Mr. Kumi,” Almasi replied. “Dinner will be served in a couple of minutes. I just need to talk to the cook for a moment, if you will excuse me,” she said, darting away as quickly as possible without seeming rude.

Mr. Arko Kumi nodded and made his way out to the patio. No doubt, his brother was sitting on one of the patio chairs now, enjoying taking in the fresh summer breeze and playing completely innocent. Almasi felt sick to her stomach. As soon as Mr. Arko Kumi was gone, she ran up the stairs to find Jacob.

He was not in their bedroom, nor was he in his study. Almasi called his name frantically as she went from room to room, trying to find him. She needed to explain what had happened. She felt so guilty for having hurt him like that. She knew that it wasn’t her fault, and that Mr. Kofi Kumi was completely to blame for the horrible violation of a kiss that Jacob had misperceived as an act of adultery, but it was Almasi’s fault for not having dealt with this situation sooner.

How silly I’ve been
, she thought,
for thinking that everything would work itself out
. She wanted to cry some more, but she knew that she had to at least keep up a dignified appearance, and where
was
Jacob? She searched every room upstairs, but eventually she gave up. The mansion was enormous, and since Jacob had grown up there, he must know every secret passage and hidden corner by heart. There was no use in searching for him. Almasi bit her lip. What would she tell the others at the dinner table? How could she cover for this?

As Almasi made her way down the stairs, an answer presented itself in the form of Mrs. Nettle. The crotchety old woman, seeing Almasi approaching, addressed her first.

“Mrs. Adamson,” she began, “I’ve just had a call from Mr. Adamson’s assistant, Mr. Sanchez. It seems that Mr. Adamson has had a sudden… situation to attend to, and he will not be available for dinner.” It was impossible to tell from the neutral expression in Mrs. Nettle’s pale blue eyes whether or not she knew what had happened.

She looked disapproving, but that was always the expression she had on her face when she spoke to Almasi. Almasi decided to go along with the story Mrs. Nettle had given her.
Trust Jeremy to come up with something,
she thought.

“What is the nature of this… situation?” Almasi ventured. If she was going to be complicit in another lie, she might as well get her story aligned with everyone else’s.

“Mr. Adamson has received an urgent call from one of his stores and needs to meet with the manager immediately,” said Mrs. Nettle. She sounded like she was reciting a line in a play. “Because it’s company business, he is not at a liberty to provide further details.

It’s one of the locations in the next state over, so he will not be back in time to take dinner with you and the guests.” Mrs. Nettle’s tone became a little more pointed now, and she added, “I trust that you will manage to be an appropriate and a genteel hostess for the night.”

The last comment stung, but Almasi ignored it. “Thank you, Mrs. Nettle,” she said. “I will be on my way outside, then.”

“You had better be,” said Mrs. Nettle, looking at the clock. “It’s two minutes past the start of dinner, and you know how Mr. Arko Kumi doesn’t like for things to be late.” And with that last snide remark, Mrs. Nettle turned and left, probably to go bother some maid about the dress code or the folding technique of bed sheets, or something equally menial.

Almasi rolled her eyes once Mrs. Nettle was out of the room. She didn’t know why Mrs. Nettle was so grumpy and vindictive all the time, but Almasi had bigger fish to fry.

After making a quick stop to wash her face of the residual tears, Almasi made her way outside gracefully and greeted Mr. Arko Kumi and Mr. Kofi Kumi in a kind and polite manner.

Anyone who didn’t know better would have thought that nothing was wrong, and although it was impossible to ever get a good read of Mr. Arko Kumi’s facial expression, Almasi figured that it was safe to assume that he didn’t suspect anything.

When the typical “hellos” and “how are yous” were said, Almasi cleared her throat delicately and repeated the excuse that Mrs. Nettle had given her for Jacob’s absence. “I am afraid that my husband will be unable to attend dinner tonight,” she began, and she could see the amusement in Mr. Kofi Kumi’s eyes.

She chose not to make eye contact with him, instead, turning to Mr. Arko Kumi to explain the situation. Mr. Arko Kumi nodded thoughtfully, and dinner was served. The small talk was somewhat awkward, but at least for once Almasi was being included in the conversation.

She couldn’t help but feel a little resentful that it took until her husband was away and there were no other men to converse with, for Mr. Arko Kumi to finally willingly engage in a conversation with her. At least Mr. Kofi Kumi had always talked to her when she was being ignored. Not that Mr. Kofi Kumi’s behavior toward her was exactly a shining example of how one should treat the wives of one’s business associates, she thought wryly.

She realized as she had this thought that Mr. Kofi Kumi’s friendliness all along had probably been a part of his ploy to get into her pants. She felt sick. She’d been so stupid! To think that anyone would ever want to engage with her in any way other than to use her for something.

She suddenly felt very bitter about the whole situation with Jacob. She would be able to explain the situation to him when he came back, but she resented that he had refused to listen to her, instead choosing to run away and to let Jeremy and Mrs. Nettle deal with his problems.

Well, they would talk it out later. Almasi realized that she had become so lost in her thoughts that she had not been listening to the dinner conversation, and now Mr. Kofi Kumi was halfway through an anecdote to which she had missed the beginning. She forced a charming smile, playing along so that he wouldn’t become angry or be provoked to do something bad again.

That unwanted kiss had resulted in her husband thinking she was a cheater and running away, albeit, hopefully temporarily. What would happen if she crossed Mr. Kofi Kumi again?

Meanwhile as Almasi was suffering through the uncomfortable dinner at the Adamson mansion, Jacob was sitting in his limousine, waiting through the rush hour traffic to get into the city. He had texted Jeremy with the name of a bar, and they were going to meet up and talk about it. Then, with any luck, Jacob would either find some sort of resolution for this situation, or he would get too drunk to care.

Either option seemed equally feasible at this point. Jacob leaned against the side window. He probably looked melodramatic. He probably seemed like a poor little rich boy who had never faced any sort of hardship, but who cared? Jacob was sad, hurt, and lonelier than he had felt in a long time. He was allowed to be miserable.

Eventually, the limo got off the highway and onto the main streets, and Jacob told the driver where to drop him. He would have the car parked in his space at the penthouse so that the driver could pick him up once he had either drowned his sorrows or come to some sort of conclusive decision. He would either go back to the mansion or stay at the penthouse that night.  Either way, he would not have to drive drunk.

The driver stopped, and Jacob didn’t bother to thank him as he got out. (That would have annoyed Almasi, he thought bitterly. She was always harping on him about respecting the servants better.) The bar was a fairly low-key place, not somewhere where he would be noticed and recognized for who he was, but not too seedy that he could be putting himself in danger.

Jacob entered morosely and looked around. He found Jeremy sitting up at the bar, drinking a gin and tonic, and doing some sort cross word puzzle or a Sudoku or something. What a nerd. He walked up to Jeremy and sat down at the bar stool next to him without saying a word.

“Hey,” said Jeremy, looking up from his word search.

It was a
word search
. Jesus Christ. Jacob would have made fun of him if he had any energy for jokes. As it was, he was feeling exhausted and grumpy, so he just looked back at Jeremy and said “Hey,” frowning a little at the sympathetic look his assistant was giving him.

He was upset, yeah, but Jacob Adamson was not a sick puppy. He straightened himself up a little in order to seem less pathetic, but he could tell from the way Jeremy was looking at him that he wasn’t buying it. He had, after all, heard the tone of Jacob’s voice on the phone an hour before when he had called him in a panic. Jeremy had to calm him down until his words were coherent, and even then, Jacob had sounded completely distraught and more than a little melodramatic. Meeting him at the bar would be a good way to get Jacob out of the mansion and away from Almasi and also to let him cool down before he did or said anything rash.

Jacob appreciated Jeremy’s planning and quick thinking. However, right now he felt a little inclined to throttle his assistant for having been the one who had come up with the whole stupid fake marriage idea in the first place.

Jeremy could see Jacob brooding, and he hid a small smile. Assuming a serious and sympathetic tone, he looked back down at his word search and asked Jacob if he wanted to talk. He knew he would be in for a long venting session, but that was his job. He was not just the assistant—he also played the role of the best friend. “So,” he said. “Do you want to talk?”

“Yeah,” said Jacob. “Well, yeah and no. I mean,” he clarified, “I kind of want to tell you everything that happened, but… I also kind of really want to get super hammered and just forget my own name.”

Jeremy muttered something that sounded a little bit like “like father, like son,” but then out loud he said, “I can see how that would be an appealing idea. You don’t have much time for this to blow over before you have to go back, though, Jacob, and this is probably something you want to talk about sober, and it’s not worth waiting until tomorrow when you will presumably be massively hungover, if these evening goes according to your aforementioned plans.”