From hating his boss to fake dating him. What could go wrong?
Secretary Andrew is the perfect secretary. Intelligent, resourceful, and beloved by the employees. While his boss, Sir Allen-the CEO's son, is cold, anti-social, and has the emotional cap...
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The sun chose today, of all days, to learn how to bend beams of sunlight to avoid Andrew's blackout curtains and shine directly on his face. He groaned deep in his chest as he buried his face into his pillows. He stretched out his limbs but observed that his sheets suddenly felt a little too expensive for just three hundred Pesos. The only time his skin can caress a fabric this luxurious is when he delivers documents to sir Allen's house. Huh.
He shot up from the bed. He eyed the minimal black & white décor and the room's utter lack of warmth and humanity. Honestly, he'd prefer a kidnapping than face Sir Allen in the morning. This was beyond his pay grade. But Andrew wasn't sure why he felt he's got the upper hand today.
Still in last night's attire, he refreshed himself in the en suite bathroom and stepped out of the room. He then got a whiff of a delicious breakfast meal. He hoped it was Jollibee and a couple of milkshakes.
He shuffled into the kitchen fit for a restaurant. Sir Allen in front of the stove, wearing matching pajamas and an apron, cooking his signature omelet. Scrambled eggs on the pan, a bit of herb, sliced tomatoes, sliced cheese, and when everything smelled great, he would gently fold the omelet.
Sir Allen was always an unstoppable force of nature in the office. Motivated and goal-oriented. Except when he was cooking. This was something Andrew had observed on the rare occasion he got to see the man cook.
"Good Morning, Sir Allen."
His boss' reaction to his greeting was a flinch, a pause, an awkward turn, then an Oscar-winning throat clearing. Andrew flashed a professional smile.
"I'll make us some coffee while you finish that."
Half-black coffee, half full cream milk, and no sugar for the chef devoid of human warmth and social skills. And a sweet blend of milk with coffee and honey for the baddest bitch alive. Sir Allen placed two plates of rice and omelet and Andrew handed Sir Allen his coffee. Andrew also grabbed some kiwi slices from the fridge. They sat down at the dining table on opposite sides.
"Are you feeling well?" Sir Allen asked between bites. "You consumed a considerable volume of alcohol last night."
So, that confirms Sir Allen was in the club when Andrew chugged that pitcher of margarita. On a normal day, he wouldn't how this scenario would go down. But now the tables have been flipped...Andrew wasn't sure that was the right metaphor.
"I'm good, especially with five million in my future." Sir Allen froze for a second then he grabbed his throat as his eyes bulged. He was choking. For a split second, Andrew paused and thought to just let him die and steal the five million.
He thought better against it. Murder was illegal.
He immediately circled the counter and handed him his cup of coffee. When Sir Allen was all better and they were seated, Sir Allen burst out: "I cannot believe you hesitated!"
