Chapter 5: The Proposal
932 Words
“I... what?” Anastasia seemed to forget how to speak.
“Are you... serious?” she cleared her throat, trying to reclaim her voice—and her control.
“Absolutely,” he replied with the kind of smile you’d expect at a shampoo launch: not exactly warm, but professionally polite.
“Oh, I get it. You’ve lost your mind!” She exhaled, eyebrows practically launching off her forehead as she turned sharply toward the door.
“Not so fast...” came that deep, spine-scraping voice from behind her.
Anastasia froze, hand on the door handle.
“One more step, Miss…” He paused, as if letting her absorb just how much of a 'Miss Nobody' she really was. “...and your internship ends. Officially. No recommendations. And a very short, very pointed note in your file.”
She turned slowly, like someone in a horror film who just knows something awful is happening behind them.
“Are you actually blackmailing me?”
“No. I'm offering you a deal. You keep your job—with one small twist: you become my personal assistant. With those big ears and that sharp tongue, reception isn’t exactly your calling. We’ll see how you handle a real challenge. You’ll get a decent salary, bonuses for all ‘fiancée duties,’ and a brand-new wardrobe. Because what you’re wearing right now? I can’t introduce that to my parents.”
“Excuse me?!” Anastasia looked down at her simple black T-shirt and mom jeans, then glared at him. “You know what? Screw you.”
“Don’t overreact. Maybe I wasn’t very tactful. Your clothes are... fine. But trust me—you’ll thank me when you’re standing in my parents’ living room wearing something a little more… presentable.”
She crossed her arms, scowled, but didn’t move.
“But... why me?” she finally asked. “Surely you know tons of women who’d jump at this.”
Alex gave her a sly glance, then leaned back and laced his fingers over his stomach. “Of all the potential candidates, you have one very special quality I need.”
“Which is?” she lifted an eyebrow.
“You despise me more than anyone else around here. So much, you don’t even bother to hide it. And that... is ideal.”
Her jaw dropped. Was he seriously okay in the head?
“Look, I don’t hate you, okay? Hate is... kind of a big deal. I only reserve it for one person on this planet. And it’s not you.”
Alex tilted his head slightly, clearly intrigued, but didn’t dig deeper.
“Fine. Call it disdain. Or the fact that I rub you the wrong way. Doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is that I don’t excite you. Which means the risk of you falling for me is minimal.”
Anastasia rolled her eyes so dramatically it was practically a billboard: Keep dreaming.
Alex continued unfazed. “I don’t want a relationship, Miss Smith. No emotions, no chaos, none of that pink, fluffy nonsense. But my parents are pushing. They’re apparently terrified I haven’t dated in fifteen years.”
Her jaw nearly hit the floor. Fifteen?! Fif-teen years?! What the actual hell. Wait—he was what, thirty-three? So he hasn’t been in a relationship since he was eighteen? That’s... weird. Something definitely doesn’t add up here.
And then, the thought: Maybe it’s true. Maybe it really is about George from the third floor… and some other ‘bachelors’ too?
She shook off the theory. Not the time. Not the place.
Alex spun a pen between his fingers, seemingly unaware of her internal crisis. She paused, calculating—then said, “Fine. I want a fifty percent raise.”
Alex nodded without hesitation. “Accepted.”
“I want a company car.”
“A car? Isn’t that a bit much?”
“You want your fiancée taking the metro with two transfers? In heels? In your designer-approved wardrobe?”
“Two transfers? Seriously? How long does that take?”
She just smiled.
“Fine,” Alex muttered.
“And the most important thing...”
“There’s more?”
“Obviously.”
“What now? A yacht? A private jet? A penthouse?”
“No. You’ll review my project.”
“Your project?” he laughed, scanning her again. “You’re serious? What project?”
“Doesn’t matter yet. It’s still in development. I’m asking for one hour of your time when it’s ready.”
“Half an hour. My time’s expensive.”
“Deal,” she said with a grin.
“Then it’s settled,” Alex said. “My lawyers will draft the contract within a few hours. It’ll outline everything: the three-month duration, your role, and a clause protecting me from... temptation.”
Anastasia burst out laughing.
Alex frowned. “There will be a clause for that, by the way—penalties for any physical contact outside of what’s required for public display: light hugs, hand-holding, and... kissing.”
“What?! We’ll have to kiss?!” Only now did the obvious hit her.
“Afraid so,” Alex sighed with the melodrama of a man asked to sacrifice a kidney.
For a moment, she genuinely wanted to slap that smug narcissist right in the back of the head. Totally gay, she thought with a sense of peace.
She snapped herself out of it and asked brightly, “So? Where do we start, before the contract’s even signed?”
Alex flashed a wicked grin. “With the basics.”
(Pause.)
“Take your clothes off.”
- Writer
