ROMANTIC TAKEOVER (HIJACKED BY HIS CHINESE BOSS) (YiZhan Fanfic)

CHAPTER TWO

"Those are beautiful,"
Yibo said, watching Zhan place the vase of pink and white roses on the boardroom table.
"Where did you find them?"
"This little place in Chinatown."

He finished arranging the roses.

"Would you like anything else?"
"Yes, actually - "

He was interrupted by the ringing of his phone. Glancing down at the screen, he frowned.

"Bonjour," he said, answering the phone.

Zhan felt his cheeks heat up. He'd only heard him speak in french accent a few times, and damn did he like it.
He continued talking, turning his back to Zhan and walking to the floor length windows that overlooked East Central Park. Zhan had no idea what he was saying or who he was talking with, but he had been about to ask him to do something else before the phone rang, so he figured he'd better stay put.
He glanced at his reflection in the nearest window. His brown hair had gotten a little wind-swept while he'd been running around looking for the roses. He smoothed them down, then noticed his slightly chipped nails. He could use another manicure. He needed a new place to go to, though. He hadn't liked the one on ninth that he'd gone to the last time. The wait had been too long, even though the place was slow, and their water not warm enough.
"This is not good."
Zhan started, looking up from his hands. Was he talking to him now?

"Sorry?" he asked.

Yibo rubbed a palm across his square jaw, brushing against the stubble there. The five o'clock shadow he sported twenty-four seven was Zhan's favourite physical attribute of his - well, that and his milky fair skin... and his black, wavy hair... and his broad shoulders... and his dark, chocolate eyes... and a hundred other things about him.
He sighed, looking at him. Silence.
Slowly, he went and sat down at the head of the long, mahogany board table. He looked up at him, a sad-looking smile on his face.

"You fix so much for me, Zhan. I wish you could fix this."

Zhan gulped. He couldn't let him know how good that tiny compliment had made him feel.

"Maybe I can help," he said.
"What's happened?"

"My parents have found me a bride."

Zhan's heart froze. He'd never actually thought he and Yibo would end up together, but he'd never even imagined him with anyone else. Yibo was married to his work. And Zhan was devoted to him, and so, therefore, to the art world as well. Countless nights they had spent together in the office, working until three or four a.m. In a sense, Zhan liked to think, they were married to each other.
It was just a marriage that didn't come with any actual benefits.

"So," Zhan said slowly.
"You're getting married?"
"Absolutely not."

Zhan sighed with relief.

"But I need to find some way out of this."

"Can't you just tell them you don't want to get married? It's the truth, right?"

"It's not so simple. My mother and father are very traditional, and in my family the parents choose the partners for their children. It's been that way for generations - for hundreds of years."

He paused, looking out the window again. His brow furrowed even more.
Zhan bit his lip. He was obviously very upset over the whole thing, and he hated to see him in pain. Plus, the whole thought of losing him to someone else... well, that was just more than he could bear.

"What if," Zhan suggested. "You tell your parents you've already found someone else? That you're already engaged?"

Yibo turned back to him.

"That's crazy," he replied, but his eyes had lit up and he was suddenly pulling himself up to sit straighter.

"Maybe it's not. They're all the way in Paris. You're all the way in Beijing. They visit here how often?"

He shrugged. "My father maybe once every two years. My mother, less. I go there every six months or so."

"And you wouldn't have to bring your theoretical wife with you, would you?"
He nodded his head, slowly.
"One problem, though. If my parents never meet this 'wife', they'll never believe she exists."
Zhan shrugged. "Then hire someone. An actress. It happens all the time in movies."

"Yes, I should hire someone..." He stared off into space. "Like my assistant."

Zhan gagged, choking on what he was pretty sure was just simple air.

"Excuse me?"

"You could do it."

Zhan spread his hands, flabbergasted.

"Why on earth would you even want me to do it? and I am a guy?!"

"Because, consider, Zhan - no woman knows me as well as you do. Any questions my family asks, you will be able to answer. No woman who is a stranger could learn in just a week what you know about me. Besides your looks and your voice are similar to woman so just a little dress up is enough and that's it."

"Why just a week?"

"My trip to Paris for the family gathering is next week, remember? It will be the perfect opportunity to bring my fiancé to meet the family."

Zhan wrung his hands together. Pretend to be his fiancé? Was he capable of it? God knew he had imagined similar scenarios hundreds of times when he was alone in bed late at night. But was he capable of being smooth enough to pull off such a sham?

And what would they be required to do? Hold hands? Kiss? Sleep in the same room together? A wave of excitement went through his body.

Paris. He'd never been, and he'd always wanted to go. And five days masquerading as Yibo's lover?

One thing was for sure: if he didn't say yes and do it, he would spend the rest of his life wondering what it would have been like.

"Okay," he finally answered.
"Let's do it."