The Checkmate Agreement

1 | His Royal Hotness

"I never thought of us as a fairytale, but rather as the game of chess. He was my King, I was his Queen. But together we were just pawns in love" —Anne Lee Hamilton

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PEACE. It's nice to not be able the hear of cars honking for once. Most especially when living in Big Apple. There was never a peaceful moment here until every morning when I wake up to do my yoga on the rooftop with serene music playing on my headphones. The sun had just started to rise and I got up from position. I took off my headphones and admired the view. It has always been like this since I landed the job at Ackerman Co. Peaceful day, hectic night. At first I liked the irony, but it was the same every other day. It was getting repetitive and I was getting tired of it.

I headed back to my room to take a shower and prepared myself some breakfast. Yes, I make and eat breakfast in my bathrobe with only my undergarments under it. It's a bad habit of mine. Once I wolfed down three pancakes with nutella, hash browns, and a bacon, I went back to the bathroom to wash my teeth then find clothes to wear AKA the most difficult task ever.

I settled for a black pencil skirt, a plain white v-neck and a blazer with gold buttons. I grabbed my orange stilettos for a nice pop of color. I also grabbed dainty accessories from my vanity then proceeded to do my hair. I blow dried to the lowest setting while running my fingers through and pulled it up into a bun. I let a few tendrils out to frame my face then advanced to makeup. I concealed my under eyes so that people won't be able to see that I'm tired of their shenanigans, lightly did my brows, slapped on a nude pink lipstick, a bit of mascara, and loose powdered the heck out of my face. I'm not really fond of caking up my face so whatever.

Once I'm all set, I did a once over on my life-sized mirror. I glanced at the digital clock on my bedside table. 7:30 AM. I shrugged, more time for me since I leave the house at 8:10. I checked my e-mails and see what is left for me to do before I go to work.

Ping!

I checked to see who the message was from and my breath hitched. It's from him. My boss, Silas Ackerman. I calmed my furiously thumping heart and convinced myself that I hated him. No, he didn't do anything horrible to me. No, he didn't embarrass me. No, he didn't insult me. He didn't do anything to me at all except assign me to call companies, read out his schedule, remind him what he should do before the day ends. You know, secretary stuff, but what made me force myself to hate him was because of the things he does to me that he doesn't even have a clue know of. I remember the time he had to call my name several times to get my attention because I was too busy daydreaming about him. I was flustered and even more flustered when I thought he was going to embarrass me, but by the looks of his cold grey-blue eyes, I knew he'd just brush it off. Besides, there were a lot of women clinging to him left and right anyway. He's the CEO of the billion dollar making company, for pete's sake. That was enough to convince me that I had to hate him. I had to stay away from him. I have to hide my heart from my sleeves. Add the fact that the boss and secretary romantic relationship is very much illegal. I don't want to be one of the women clinging onto him. I'm okay with admiring him from afar with a (fake) scowl on my face to show him that I, Tyra Welsch, isn't and will not be affected by charms. Plus he's way out of my league and there are a billion women in the world he can choose from. I had gotten so good at hiding my feelings, sometimes I think that I'm going to end up as a cat lady—which is not as bad as I think, but it would be kind of nice to have someone love you the way you love them too, right?

Jerkface: Welsch, meet me at my office an hour before leaving. This is an important matter and you must be on time.

Yes, I renamed my boss' name in my contact as jerkface. With trembling fingers, I replied.