"She is under the impression that I have finally 'settled down.' She thinks I live in a warm, domestic home and not a glass cage, and if she sees this place looking like a showroom for a bachelor pad, she will stay in New York until she finds me a wife. She needs me to have one before she dies."

I let out a short, surprised laugh, and I can't help the smirk that tugs at my lips. "The great Scott Smith is afraid of a little old lady?"

He turns to me, his eyes narrowing, and he steps into my space until I can smell the faint scent of whiskey on his skin. "She isn't just a lady. And she wants to see a life here that I don't have."

He looks at the apartment, then back at me, and I see a lightbulb go off in his head that makes me want to turn around and bolt for the elevator.

"Stay." he says. It isn't a request.

"Excuse me?"

"Help me finish this. Help me make this place look like a human being lives here. We will go out to buy plants, move the furniture, hide the whiskey-I don't care. Just make it look... warm." He takes a step closer, and his voice drops to that husky register that makes my stomach do that traitorous little flip again. "And then, you're going to help me with the second part of the lie."

I grip my purse tightly. "Which is?"

"She expects to meet the woman I've been 'settled' with. Stay the night to help me fix this mess, play the part of my girlfriend for the weekend, and I'll triple your annual bonus. I'll pay it tonight."

I look at the disastrous bookshelf, then at the man who just hours ago was making my blood boil in the office, and I think about my bank account. Sure I had a lot of money from this job, but I wanted to take a three month vacation traveling around the world in first class so having some extra money wouldn't hurt.

Plus it was just a show right?

His grandmother no longer lived in New York.

Last I heard, she had cancer with only two years to live.

She spent it traveling from one place to another before eventually settling in California.

"Triple?" I ask quietly.

"Triple," he confirms, "Do we have a deal, Minnie Mouse?"

******

Scott is such a good kisser.

Unlike my ex-boyfriend, who often tugged on my lips like he wanted to rip them off.

His grandmother makes a face at us, and I really cannot tell if it's out of disgust or if she's happy about this.

He looks at me so softly-and for the three years I have known him, he has never been soft with anyone. In fact, his expression is usually either blank or icy cold.

With me, there's the occasional pout when I am unable to get something he wants.

I blush and pull back, tucking my hair behind my ear. It should be part of the acting, but it feels so real because I'm feeling butterflies that shouldn't be there.

"I don't see a ring on her finger, though," Lady Jessica says in an observant tone, picking up some food with her fork.

"Well, I have to wait for your verdict before I take such a bold step," he says with a boyish grin.

She huffs. "You always do whatever you want, Scott. I don't think you care about my verdict."

"Of course I do."

"Or you are just not serious with her."

"Grandmother," he says in a warning tone.

"Can you excuse us, Claire?" she asks, turning to look at me. I give a polite smile and stand from the table, walking into the kitchen.

My heart is pounding at a rate of a thousand miles per hour, and my lips are tingling deliciously from the number of times he has kissed me.

"It's just work. Nothing serious," I mutter to myself, but I feel needy as hell. I can't wait to get back home.

I lean over the counter, my mind momentarily wandering to when I used to date Owen.

The relationship was bound to end because, first of all, I had a boss who needed me at his beck and call. Most times, I hardly ever had time to hang out with him or go on dates.

Then the sex was terrible because Owen was a man. And not in the sense that I would rather fuck a woman-I mean, he only cared about finishing, about his own pleasure and not mine. And to be honest, he barely knew how to make a woman feel good.

So I ended up having to sort myself out.

Six months into our relationship, he lost his job and apartment and started living in mine. I didn't care that much about being the sole provider, but it did start to get annoying that he was comfortable not working and not even bothering to look for a new one.

He also became insecure and tried controlling my life, talking about how I was treating him like trash because things got bad for him.

I stayed.

Well, because I kept trying to understand his frustration.

Until I showed up to work one day with a black eye poorly concealed by makeup, and Scott-who needed his overworked personal servant to be in top condition all the time-pried into my life without my permission, and off to jail Owen went.

I had been angry at first, but now-seven months later-I'm grateful.

Something hard presses into me and warm hands wrap around me from behind, crawling up my shirt. I turn to face him and he captures my lips with his.

I pull away immediately. "She's not here."

He says nothing but kisses me again.

"You know, I'm starting to think you're just obsessed with me," I tease, hoping his pride would make him stop because I don't like how I feel about this.

"Hm," he smiles. "You're my girlfriend, aren't you?"

Before I can reply, his mouth is on mine again. I gasp as his tongue slips inside my mouth. I'm melting into him, my hands suddenly tugging at his hair because my lack of self-control decides to take over.

Scott's cold hands slide over my boobs, cupping them and squeezing them gently. One finger brushes over my nipple and I gasp in pleasure and surprise.

It's been far too long.

His groin area, which is hard, presses into me deliciously. The fabric of the jean shorts I'm wearing for the homely feel is causing a lot of friction that feels perfect.

"Ah," I moan, as he presses even harder. I should stop this, but I have zero control over how I feel.

Fucking ovulation.

"Ahem!" Lady Jessica clears her throat in the doorway. I jump away from him like I've been caught doing something wrong-I mean, I have.

My cheeks flame red.

She gives me a judgmental look, or maybe it's just my imagination.

"It was nice having breakfast with you, two," she finally says in an impassive tone after a few minutes of silence. "While I'd like to stay and ask questions about you, I have a commitment somewhere else."

I nod, licking my lips and then biting them softly.

"Have you heard from Rose lately?" his grandmother suddenly asks. "You two used to be close."

Close? Try knee-deep in her pussy yesterday.

But of course, I don't say the words out loud.

"Used to be."

"I always thought it'd lead to something... more positive."

"Like?"

"Marriage, and of course, a business merger. It'll be good for both families."

"I thought you were content with me finding love?"

"Love coming with other advantages instead of just love is often better."

"I'll accompany you out," Scott says, stepping away from me. "Why not ship Rose with one of your other grandsons?"

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

She didn't approve of me, but it didn't matter.

While they're gone, I decide to clear up the dining table and do the dishes. Then I change into normal clothes and get my bag.

As I reach the main entrance, Scott opens the door and sighs while he looks at me. Every inch of what he had displayed before is completely gone.

Seriously, who was I kidding?

It was all for show.

He had definitely known his grandmother would come looking in the kitchen. He wanted her to catch us in the act so it could be even more believable that we weren't just lovey-dovey in front of her.

"You are leaving already?"

"Yes, sir."

"Send me my schedule for Monday. I may have to shift things around."

"Okay, sir. As soon as I get home."

"My grandmother will be staying in New York now," he tells me. "A few blocks down from this penthouse. Where I grew up with her."

"That's lovely."

"With nine months left, she wants to be closer to me." His eyes have a distant look in them and for the first time, I think Scott might be heartbroken.

From what I knew, his parents had died when he was only nine and since then, his grandmother had raised him and his younger sister until death took her away. Now his grandmother was going to be gone, and the other family members he had-cousins, uncles... It was no news that he didn't get along with them.

He blinked rapidly, his face turning normal again. "I would like for this arrangement to continue."

"Huh?"

"We will keep dating... for two months. Then I'll propose to you, and we will get married."

"Huh?"

"Well, she thinks I have found the one and while she wants to dig into your personal life, she is happy I am happy. She wants to die knowing I'm in love, and even if it means lying to her... as long as she's happy."

"I'm your secretary," I deadpan. "Sooner or later, she is going to find out."

He shrugs nonchalantly. "People date at work."

"She doesn't even approve of me, you heard what she said."

"She will come around eventually," he replies, walking past me. "I'll be paying you generously."

"Frankly speaking," I begin, crossing my arms on my chest. "You already pay me quite well. And while I don't have the kind of wealth you do, I live very well above average. In fact, I can be considered rich."

"Well, then you can be richer. I may have money, but I love spending my grandmother's money," he shrugs. "Imagine having to spend my money however you like. Surely, you'd like to get your revenge on me by sending you on ridiculous errands, and you can do that by misusing my card."

"So you do know your errands are ridiculous?"

"Say yes."

"No, thank you," I smile.

"Five million."

"Noooo," I drawl out.

"A black card. And I'll pay for everything you need during that period."

"It's still a no," I sigh. "We work together and honestly, everything that happened today... shouldn't have happened."

"Kissing? That's not a big deal."

Yes. And an intense session on your kitchen counter that I'm still embarrassed from.

"It wouldn't work.

"

"Think about it and get back to me within three days."

I sigh and rub my temples as I step into the luxury department store. After the morning I've had-being bent over a kitchen counter by my boss and then basically being proposed to for a business arrangement-I deserve a new pair of shoes.

My Zara shoes were officially retired after the yogurt incident.

I pick out a pair of sleek, black stilettos with red bottoms and hand my card to the cashier with a small, tired smile.

"Declined," the woman says after swiping it.

I blink. "I'm sorry? Try again, please."

Even if I didn't have money on the card-which I most definitely did-Scott was supposed to send me money for playing girlfriend this morning.

She swipes it again. "Declined, ma'am."

I pull out my spare credit card that I only use for emergencies. Of all days that my credit card company decided to screw me over, it was this one.

Fuck.

"Try this one."

"Also declined."

My heart does a weird little skip.

That wasn't possible.

I pull out my phone, my fingers trembling slightly as I logg into my banking app. I expect to see the generous deposit Jin-hoon had made this morning. Instead, my blood turns to ice.

The balance is a negative number. A very large, very scary negative number.

I stare at the screen, my vision blurring. There is a credit from Scott's company, but immediately following it is a massive debit. And then another. And another.

"Is there a problem?" the cashier asks, her tone shifting from polite to suspicious.

"I... I have to go," I whisper. I hurry out of the store, my breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

I stand by the roadside under the bus shed-I hate driving and don't know how, so I never bothered buying a car.

I call the bank's 24-hour customer service line immediately.

"Hello!" I say to the person on the line after the bank routes me through several automated voices. "I'm calling to dispute some debits on my account. I never made those transactions."

"Can we have your bank information?" a soft feminine voice asks.

I relay it to her.

"Yes. You made those transactions."

"No, no I didn't... I..."

"I'm sorry, Ms. Claire," the representative says after ten minutes of me frantically explaining that I hadn't spent a dime. "But these transactions were authorized through your personal laptop. The security keys were all correct."

"But I didn't do it! It's fraud! thousands of dollars are gone, and I'm in debt!"

"The funds were moved into various charity accounts and real estate management firms," the woman continues, sounding almost impressed. "For the real estate... it looks like a very strategic, long-term investment. Proving it is fraudulent will be nearly impossible since it was done from your home IP address."

"I was at my boss's house all morning!" I shout into the phone.

"You can come in on Monday to file a formal dispute, but I should warn you, these types of cases rarely go in the favor of the account holder when the passwords haven't been changed and it was done from your registered device."

I hang up, feeling sick.

I rush home, my mind racing. Luckily, I had pre-purchased bus tickets.

The moment I step into my apartment, I know someone has been here from the way it smells.

Like a man's cologne.

I walk into the kitchen and stop dead.

On the fridge, stuck on with a magnet, is a small yellow post-it note.

You're lucky you weren't home. You would have paid in more ways.

- CT

I sink to the floor, my legs giving out.

Owen.

I hadn't changed my passwords since Owen lived with me. I had been so relieved to get him out of my life and in jail that I'd forgotten how much of my digital life he had access to, and that one day, he was going to be released.

Monday morning feels like a funeral and with my mood, I am extremely happy Scott has gone to Newark and didn't need me there with him.

I spent my lunch break at the bank, showing them the note and the footage from my doorbell camera. It showed a man in a black hoodie and a mask entering my apartment with a key.

"It could be anyone," the bank manager says, handing the phone back to me. "And since he had a key and your passwords, the bank views this as a domestic dispute, not bank-level fraud. We cannot reverse the transactions."

"I'm going to lose my house," I said, my voice barely a whisper. "The loan... my apartment was the collateral."

"I'm sorry, Ms. Claire. You have thirty days to clear the negative balance before we start the foreclosure process."

I walk out of the bank and stand on the sidewalk. I am so close to just lying in the middle of the road and letting myself get run over by a truck.

I officially have nothing. My savings, my credit, my home-all gone because I had tried to be "understanding" to a man who was a monster and had come back to take revenge.

Where the hell am I supposed to start from after all of this?

My life is over and even after receiving my salary this month, it was not even going to lift anything off the debt.

This man had literally drained my savings.

I pull out my phone and look at the time. Scott was still going to be in Newark for a meeting.

He wouldn't be back until late.

Five million dollars.

It wouldn't hurt to try, right?

"You never call me," Scott's voice comes through the line, sounding smooth and irritatingly calm.

"I want your offer," I say, my voice shaking. I grip my phone so hard my knuckles turn white.

There is a long pause on the other end. I can almost hear the smirk forming on his face.

"The marriage?" he asks.

"Yes," I close my eyes. "The marriage."

"I'll prepare a contract when I am back then. Is that the only reason you called?"

"Yeah... um, will I get paid immediately for it?" I really need to clear my debt as soon as possible and also maybe hire a lawyer who would know how to help me get my money back.

Getting married to my boss couldn't be that bad, could it?

"What happened, Minnie Mo

use?" he asks in a dangerously low voice. "Are you in trouble?"