GAVIN MORGAN

Being a public finger comes with its downsides. The media is always in your business. Sometimes you have to hide yourself, to act like a normal person.

Otherwise; Go out with a woman, you're in the headlines the next day. Have fun, still in headlines the next day.

Any woman seen with you leads to speculations about your dating life.

Sometimes you have to bribe them to take off the heat. Or create a scandal to act as a deversion for them to stop focusing on you for a while.

Dealing with the media is not the only downside of being a public figer. Not when your parents are always on your neck about marriage. I'm clocking thirty but I haven't settled and they never fail to remind me of that.

Today, I had lunch with them, and as usual, it didn't go well. They kept on talking about a wedding that's never going to happen. I don't want to rain on their parade because of how excited they looked.

What they don't know is that Janelle and I broke things off weeks ago. No one knows what happened, except for the two of us. It's a story I wouldn't enjoy narrating.

In everyone's else's eyes she's been away on a business trip.

My parents' obsession with the Morgans and the Adams intermarrying puzzles me everyday. They are all about the public figure and stuff. I almost fell for that crap, but thank goodness I saw Janelle's true colors before I dug myself into a ditch.

I decide to spend the next few hours of the night in a club. A black hoodie and a cap does the disguise job so perfectly.

I only last a few minutes sipping drinks when a woman takes the empty seat beside me.

I don't steal just a glance, I stare at her for a while. This was not my end game when I came here, but looking at this beauty, I'm not opposed to the idea of changing plans. There's something about women with black hair in red dresses. This one looks seductively hot. She must be from a date or waiting for a date.

Her back hair is neatly tied into a ban, revealing her skin that looks soft to touch. My eyes trail her neck to the shoulder, which is exposed since she's wearing a strapless dress. It gives me the temptation to suck it, yet I don't even recall when I turned into a vampire. The way her lips move as she makes her order, makes me want to mount mine on that red lipstick.

I had assumed she might be waiting for a date, but when she looks at me, I don't miss the sadness reflecting in her eyes. It's almost as if she's been crying.

Or she's really been crying.

I don't know this woman, but seeing her like this makes me want to punch someone. It must be the drinks taking a hold of my brain, because all of this sounds insane. She's just a stranger.

Yeah, that's easier said, but this woman has evoked feelings in me at first sight. My body is quick to react to her and my cock twitches at certain thoughts.

I think it's the reason why I stop her when she tries to leave, asking her to drink with me. To be my partner in this normal day thing.

Remember when I said I wanted to punch someone for making her sad? Scratch that.

When she tells me about her ex's betrayal, I want to kill him. The urge to kill for a woman I met five seconds ago remains a puzzle to me.

We don't go through the normal routine of introducing ourselves, since we refer to each other as strangers. But apparently, the beautiful lady's curiosity gets the best of her and now she's insisting on knowing who I really am, and the real reason as to why I'm hiding my face.

When I lean closer to her and ask what I get in return by being fully honest, she ignores my question. Her hand reaches for my cap, but I grab it in time, before she takes it off.

"Careful, ma'am," I say, still holding her wrist.

Her expression falls realizing what she's done. When I let go of her wrist, she gulps down three shots, avoiding my gaze.

When she reaches for the fourth one, I grab her wrist again, this time to stop her from getting herself to blackout.

"That's enough," I drowl.

She shoots me a glare. "You're not my boss," she hisses, disappointed that I stopped her.

She looks even more sexier when she's mad.

"Besides, aren't we supposed to be strangers?"

Her quick change of mood is puzzling. Just a few seconds ago, we were talking like we knew each other so well, and now she's back to being mad at me.

"If I showed you my full face, will you stop drinking?" I offer, without thinking through my words.

She thinks about it for a few seconds and shrugs, "I'll try."

"That's not an answer," I retort. She sighs before she finally agrees. "Okay, you win," she raises her palms.

"But let's make a deal first," I suggest, making her scrunch her face.

"So complicated," she mumbles.

"I'll take you home first. You've had too much to drink, you're in no position to take care of yourself." I state the obvious. Why I care this much, I have no idea. All I can say, just in a few hours, this woman has got me doing things I don't normally do.

"What? I'm okay, I've only had a few shots," she retaliates.

It's not always easy for most people to admit they're drunk. I saw this from a mile away, before she even took the last three shots.

I don't know when I became this generous and soft, because instead of leaving the stranger, it feels like I'm responsible for her.

She taps my chest a few times with her index finger. "Why would I trust you to take me home?"

Well, fair point.

I'm a stranger, and even though I don't have any bad intentions, it might not be easy for her to be sure of that.

"Trust your gut. What does it tell you?" I try.

She stares at me for a while, like she's thinking deep.

"Just know that I have a gun in my purse." She warns me in the end. I smile at her fierceness.

"Does that mean you'll show me your face? I won't tell the paparazzi, I promise."

"When you're home safe, I will." I promise.

Since I didn't come here with my car, I request a cab with an anonymous account.

I hold both my cap and the drunk stranger still while I get out of the club to the car.

"Just so you know, I'm not drunk." She mumbles as soon as we're settled in the car. She yells her address to the driver to prove to me that her mind is still conscious.

She's quiet for a while, looking outside, deep in thought. It makes me want to pull her closer and tell her to forget that idiot who doesn't deserve such a beautiful woman.

My intrusive thoughts win, and since I'm seated right next to her, I take her hand and intertwine it with mine.

She doesn't resist, instead she collaborates by looking at me.

We stay in the same posture for a while, with no words being said. My hand intertwined with hers sends sudden sparks in my body. Again, my body is reacting to her in ways I've never imagined.

Only when the car comes to a halt does the staring marathon stop.

She holds my hand and leads the way to her house. For someone who's had so much to drink, she hasn't forgotten her door. She takes the keys from her purse and I smirk, wondering how a gun would fit there.

As if reading my thoughts, she looks at me and says, "it's a small gun."

"It must be adorable." I comment.

She welcomes me in and closes the door behind her.

I'm puzzled by her level of trust in me.

"Okay, now you can take your cap off. No one is looking." She goes straight to the point.

There's something else I'd love to take off, but okay.

Since I made my promise, I do as ordered.

I don't know what I'd expected her reaction to be, but it's definitely not a calm one. She stares at me blankly.

Is it because that's how she processes shock? Or doesn't she know who I am. The latter sounds odd. Unless she's a private person who isn't interested in the city's gossip.

"You don't know who I am?" I ask.

"Am I supposed to?" She returns the question, making me conclude it's my latter assumption.

"You don't read newspapers, or follow news?" I pry.

"Not my area if specialization. But I'll google you later."

"Why not now?" I ask.

She moves closer and cups my face with one hand. The effect of her touch goes all the way down to my cock.

"Why would you cover such a handsome face?" She mumbles.

If she keeps on touching me like this, my body might explode.

But she's drunk and there are some lines I never cross.

As much as my body is reacting to her, and I want her, I can't cross that line.

She moves closer until there's no inch of space between us.

I'm not sure what her endgame is, but what I'm sure of is that her actions are influenced by the alcohol, which is confirmed but her next words.

She brushes her thumb on my lips. "Do you want to fuck me?"

GAVIN

Tempting offer, right?

Wrong!

This stranger-I don't even know her name–is a very beautiful woman. She looks hot, and I've been finding it hard to tear my gaze away since I first laid my eyes on her.

The fact that she's hurting makes it even more complicated. Normally, on nights like these, I'm usually prawn to have one night stands with more sober women and move on with my life the next day.

It's not only the fact that my stranger is not sober. There's something about her that has evoked an immense amount of care in me I haven't felt before.

Apart from her astonishing beauty, I have no idea.

After a few seconds of what seems like a staring contest, she smiles and moves backwards.

But that smile is a fake one. It doesn't take a genius to gauge the pain behind it

"I'm sorry," she says, moving farther away from me, avoiding my gaze.

"I just..." she exhales loudly and stutters again.

"I remembered my ex's betrayal, and I thought I'd feel better saying that...yet it reminded me of him, and it hurt all over again..."

Her shoulders start shaking as tears flow down her cheeks, while she sobs, the pain evident in her voice.

Seeing her like this makes me want to kill someone and I'm having this feeling for the second time in the night. Or third.

I lost count.

I'm never good at consoling anyone but with her, it comes naturally. I move closer and pull her into my arms.

She sobs more as I rub her back, letting her take it all out. Having been a victim, I understand the kind of pain that comes with betrayal. Especially from the people you trusted with your life.

She told me her ex cheated on her with her best friend.

Yeah, betrayal from the people you trusted with your life.

After a while, she slowly breaks the embrace.

"I'm sorry, " she sniffles, looking at part of my hoodie now wet with her tears. I stare down at it and smile. That's nothing.

"It's okay," I assure her, taking out my handkerchief to wipe the mess on her face. She tries to stop me, but I insist until she gives up on her retaliation.

"Your clothes surely cost a dime, I can't even promise to replace it for you." She mumbles.

My brows furrow. "Why would you assume that?" I pry.

She scoffs, and takes the nearest seat.

"You said it yourself. You're a celebrity."

"Public figure," I correct.

"Same difference. And yes, I know who you are, Gavin Morgan."

She says my name like she wasn't the nonchalant one when I took off my cap.

I smile in realization. She played me earlier with her nonchalance.

My thoughts must be evident because she smiles again, like she's won something.

"Come on," she continues. "Even a child who's not been conceived yet, knows who you are."

We both smile. Now that she's piqued my interest, I sit next to her.

"So why did you act like you didn't know me?" I ask.

"Well, it's not everyday you get to have drinks with the Great Gavin Morgan. I wanted to play along too. And it's not everyday you have Gavin Morgan in your humble apartment."

"I see," I nod.

"What, you thought I lived underground?" She asks sarcastically.

"For a moment, yeah," I confess while nodding.

"I think your dual lifestyle is cool. People are used to seeing you in public, with those expensive suits. Who would imagine you in casual clothes, with a cap almost covering your whole face. You looked like a serial killer, no offense."

"None taken. I'm curious though. Why would you let me come with you if I looked like a serial killer?"

"You told me to trust my gut, and I don't know...something about you makes me feel safe. Might be the tequila in my brain." She says.

And something about you makes me feel protective, and possessive if I may add. I think.

"That would also mean I've done a good job disguising myself," I conclude.

She laughs softly. "Don't flatter yourself...Oh, I'm Demi Perez, by the way," she offers a hand.

I had forgetten that we'd skipped the introduction part.

I respond by shaking it. "And I'm Ga..."

We both laugh in realization. For someone who'd been crying a few seconds ago, her smile is bright and I'd love for her to maintain it.

It doesn't take long before her expression turns dull again.

"What is it?" I ask, with a concerned voice, that's absolutely not normal to me.

"I'm honored to have you in my house. I really am."

"Oh, do you want me to leave?" I probe.

"No, it's not that..." She stutters. "This is going to sound weird."

This time she looks me in the eye like she's finally found the courage.

"Can we forget that tonight ever happened?"

For a few seconds, I'm confused, and she must have noticed it.

"Okay, I don't want my actions today to influence tomorrow's outcome," she explains, and I still don't get it.

"What are you talking about?" I ask.

"This is one big coincidence that I never thought would happen, but I have an interview at Morgan Industries tomorrow."

"Oh," I let that sink in.

I smirk in realization. I know exactly what the interview is about. I've been looking for a secretary, since the betrayal of my last one. It's been hard to trust anyone.

We had posted a vacancy on our website, without citing that the secretary was for Gavin Morgan. I had to keep my name out of it, and let them believe that the secretary was for a random executive member.

"Wow, congratulations for securing the interview. I'm sure it wasn't easy. And, I'm not going to let this affect that. Besides, I believe you have the potential to bag the job," I tell her, earning the most genuine smile.

"That interview has nothing to do with me," I lie, to make her feel calm.

"I hope my boss will be just as good." She mumbles.

"I hope so too."

I stare at her, amused by the coincidence.

I'm still glad no one knows I'm the one looking for a secretary. Otherwise, people would apply for very different reasons. That's how I ended up with an untrustworthy secretary in the first place. This time round, I had planned to be careful with my moves.

I know Demi said to forget about the events of tonight, but how can I? A gorgeous woman just caught my eye.

I plan to tell my best friend to look into her, even though I feel like I can trust her. One can never be sure.

I want nothing but to keep on talking to her, but there's more work to be done.

DEMI

I wake up to the annoying ring of an alarm that doesn't sound familiar. I know the sound of my alarm very well and it's usually less annoying. Now this one is from a fast and loud pop song I don't recognize. Why would I put an alarm like that? And when exactly did I set the alarm?

Im too sleepy to open my eyes, but the thought makes me jolt and my heart begins racing.

Jesus Christ!

Today is my interview day. My pupils almost pop out as I sit up. I turn sideways to shut the fucking alarm off. It's only when I hold the phone in my hand, do I realize, it's not mine. For a moment I'm confused. I've never seen that phone in my life. It's not even from any of my best friends.

I don't recall buying a new phone, especially since

this one looks like it cost a hundred times this apartment's rent, if the golden casing is any indication.

This is strange. Do I need an intervention? Since when does one wake up to an expensive phone beside them?

After a few seconds of thoughts, it dawns on me, what if there's a stranger in the house. I try to shuffle out of bed to inspect the house, when a sharp pain in my head reminds me of my situation. From deep sleep to being too stunned about the phone, the confusion must have hit a wire in my brain that I didn't immediately recall the events of last night.

Forget the sharp pain. My head weighs a ton. I feel thirsty, yet I'm disgusted by the thought of water.

Hangover!

I hate mornings with hangovers. They ruin my days.

I take in deep breaths to calm my racing heart.

Checking the time again, I have almost three hours before the interview. Pretty early if you asked me, considering I drank out last night...and... I had drinks with Gavin Morgan!

I really had drinks with Gavin Morgan!

My jaw still drops even though it's been hours.

Which would explain... I stare at the phone.

Did he leave the phone on purpose? Or did...he...spend...the night...

My pupils widen at the thought of the possibility.

If he did, then where is he? He's definitely the one with the most annoying alarm. The last thing I recall is, in addition to the tequila shots, I took the only wine left in the fridge, and started gulping it in huge swigs.

I get up quickly to try and find him, but the speed at which I get out of bed makes me feel the headache even more, and I'm still thirsty.

It's only then do I spot the glass of water on the nightstand and the medicines next to it.

I smile at the thought of this being Gavin's doing, because I'm pretty sure I wasn't the one who put that hangover care package there. However, I only tolerate it for a few seconds. Some things still don't add up.

While I'm headed to the kitchen I have this insane thought of the beautiful moments I've read in books and seen in movies, where the woman walks to the kitchen and is welcomed by a sweet aroma in the air, and then she finds the man preparing a very delicious breakfast.

Silly thoughts again.

I scold myself for thinking like that. My silly thoughts are proven wrong. Gavin is not in the kitchen, and neither is he in any other place in the house.

Is it strange that I feel disappointed he's not here?

I shouldn't. Gavin is a busy man. As he'd said last night was one of those days when he would decide to disguise himself and act normal. From the tone I was getting, that doesn't happen regularly.

There must be some shots of tequila still lingering in my head for me to have such silly, crazy thoughts.

Or wishful thoughts.

I'm still confused about the phone as I walk back to my room. I think about unlocking it to try and call someone, but it absolutely feels like a breach of privacy. Since I'm going for an interview at one of his companies, I decide to use the opportunity to find a way to make the phone reach him.

I've already wasted minutes, and if I keep on drowning in thoughts, I'll end up being late for the interview. After taking painkillers, I jump into the shower. As the warm water hits my body the events of the previous night replay in my head.

Not that having Gavin Morgan in my house wasn't a big deal, it just seemed too good to be true that I was having a hard time believing it.

I blush in the water when I recall how I'd asked him to fuck me. What was I thinking?

I want to put the full blame on the alcohol, but again, who would resist such a hot guy.

I also thought it would make me feel better, but it didn't, it just reminded me of Ernest and Laila's betrayal.

Gavin saw me cry.

He saw me in a very vulnerable state.

I take in deep breaths shutting my eyes.

I should get over myself. That was a one time thing. I shouldn't be having delusional thoughts.

He's a billionaire. He must have had so many women in his bed. There's no way he's still hang up on me. I'm just a common person. A stranger he met at the club.

In fact there's a high chance, he'll forget the events of last night like it never happened. That must not have been a big deal to him, right?

After hitting myself with thoughts of a harsh reality, I finally get out of the shower to get myself ready.

I do a very light l makeup and tie my hair into a ponytail.

I find an official blue dress with length slightly above the knee and match it with a black pair of heels.

Just something simple for the interview.

Before I leave, I call to check on my mother.

She's happy to hear from me. The first question she asks is the one I was dreading.

"How was your date?"

Even though the wound is still fresh, I'd promised myself not to cry again.

Still, my mum seems largely excited and I don't want to rain on her parade. Not when she's being discharged this evening. I wouldn't want to risk sending her back to the hospital bed.

"It was good." I lie, hoping she doesn't realize.

"Good? That's all? I was hoping for something eventful...Something big...Something like a proposal."

I'm doomed!

Totally doomed!

I can't believe those are the kind of thoughts mother has about Ernest. It breaks my heart even more. Though to be fair, mother has always held him with high standards and I guess it's because he saw me happy with him. He didn't just fool me. My mother is caught up in this too.

Breaking the news will be hard.

The more I stay in this call the worse it feels.

"I'll talk to you later, mum. I have an interview to catch," I divert the topic.

"Okay, honey. Make sure you do. I need all the details."

I shake my head and say, "I will."

"Wish me luck." I add.

"Of course. I know you've got this. You're my daughter."

"Thanks mum."

I hang up and prepare to leave.

I would send a text to the 'best friends' chat group, but the conversation would take forever. I haven't told anyone else about last night, and I'm not sure what's going on with Laila. Problem for another time.

I pick the important stuff, not forgetting Gavin's phone, and I rush out.

When I open the door, I almost jump out of my skin when I find a strange, intimidating beefy man in a black suit, standing at the door.

No, this is not normal. My heartbeats heighten as the worst possibilities swirl in my brain. It's not everyday you find a strange man standing at your door.

My first instinct is to quickly get back to the house and call for help.