You Are Now Mine, Deal?

“I believe I'm speaking with Mrs. Dana Brunt,” his secretary said, revealing her wide diastema which made its way out of her little lips shimmering in red lipstick. “Yes, I am Miss Dana Brunt,” I responded, stretching out my hand to meet hers which she stretched towards me for a handshake. “Mr. Talis will be here in a few minutes. Sit here and wait,” she instructed with a beam. His secretary looked welcoming. She requested for what I would love to have, which was between water or wine. I was still nervous as a cat. I chose none. After about 25 minutes of waiting a tall man with a seducing blue eyes walked into the office heavily guarded. He walked into the office while the bodyguard stood at the door. Few seconds in, the secretary's telephone rang. She answered it, responded in a few words and made a sign for me to go in. I walked in on him lightening up his stick of cigarettes. “Dana, sit,” he said, pointing at a chair by the corner. I hadn't even sat on the chair yet when he blurted out. “400 million dollars to be paid upon contract expiration,” Talis, CEO of Wilks and Sons Petroleum proposes in his luxurious office at the 96th floor of the Wilks Pinnacle, a skyscraper of Wilks and Sons. I sat, at the rotating chair he offered me which was by the left corner of his office, staring out of the window. “I object,” I huffed staring at his lips in expectation of something. “Why would you?” he queried. “Because I don't think it's fair enough,” I insisted adjusting my pair of glasses as though i don't see him well. “It is. Well tell me what you think?” he asked standing up and making his way to my chair. I refused to fumble this opportunity. I will milk this moment. Talis Wilkinson is sure not a caliber to offer her that amount giving his reputation in the society. Wealthy, I mean WELATHY. The type of wealth that will still keep his generation on track if they wake up one day and decide not to work again. He has to give me more. “Well, cooking and cleaning is not an easy job,” I opined brushing my hair off my face. “It's not a difficult job,” he retorted. “If it wasn't you won't be looking for a cook. You would have sort it out yourself.” With that he glared at me and bit his teeth. “400 million dollars is all you get out of the pretense,” he ordered. “Okay sir, I think we are done here.” I picked up my purse and stood to leave. I was mumbling prayers wishing he calls me back and agree to my proposition. “How much do you pro…,” “Double of it,” I chimed in desperately, not letting him finish his words. Upon my statement, he gazed at me blankly without saying a word for a few minutes. “I see girl! You must be fun at parties,” he said, putting back his stick of cigarette into his mouth. “Did I by chance tell you you're going to be cooking for the citizens of Queensland? You're not cooking for the whole of Australia,” he yelled. I turned around and headed to the door. “To be paid after the contract,” he said. I stood still for a while weighing my options. After a careful consideration I proposed. “70% to be paid when the contract is signed.” With a glare, he shouted “and why will I do that?” “I'm signing this contract because I have things to sort out, not because I like you or want to be married,” my eyes darted to the office door which was slightly open. His secretary was at the door waiting to enter on his orders. “I don't like you either, I just want a cook. You better not overstep your boundaries. What do you need the money for anyway?” “My father is sick,” he scowled at me and turned his back, facing his table, he made a quick turn. “Here's your job description, it's going to be slightly more than cooking. You take my name. You follow me to official events. You act as a pretend-wife. You cook. None of these would be known by outsiders, it would be between the both of us and no one from your family must know.” He listed. He spoke in a drawl as though what I told him about my fathers condition changed his countenance. He picked up the telephone and dialed the secretary’s desk, beckoning his secretary to bring in the contract documents. “I understand it's confidential.” I responded by picking up the contract file to sign from the table. As a school dropout, having the opportunity to land such a job which was willing to pay me that amount was a miracle I didn't hope for. Since dropping out this is about the fourth job I am taking on. Now this job is going to pay me enough. I am not sure if I can hold the other ones but one thing is certain, I want to have the feeling of being independent and also having control of my life, not just being a CEO's pretend-wife. On the other hand, I felt skeptical signing the documents because something was amiss. A whole Talis Walkinson of oil and gas would get a wife if he wants one. Why get a pretend wife? Is there something off about him that I should be scared of? “I know I desperately need this money but my life and self-worth was more important. Maybe I have ego problems,” I thought. My eyes moved to Mr Talis for a nanosecond and then back to the contract paper. His secretary whose eyebrow began to furrow at my reaction cut in, “your job is to his home not to the office.” Talis layed back on his table staring at me mischievously as if he was trying to play mind games with me, “I believe she understands that.” He responded to his secretary. He called his secretary closer to him and whispered something to her ears. She left immediately only to return minutes later, “Mr Talis, the second lady you spoke about contract with is here to see you.”