Knowing the CEO

Knowing the CEO 

Part 2

Hazel

"Are you Samira?" he asks me, his voice is strong and deep, powerful as if could melt a glacier.

I pause for a moment and scan him from head to toe. Then I look him straight in the eyes and notice they're brown.

"I'm not a hooker. Don't waste your time."

"That wasn't the question I asked!"

He raises his voice. I stop in front of him and cross my arms in front of my chest. What on earth could he want from me? I'm sure it's not a date.

"Yes, I'm Samira."

"In this case, Hazel, you're British, your mother is Helen, she is sick. You can't even afford your apartment, and you are let alone to help your mother," he said.

Raising one eyebrow and uncrossing my arms, I reply. "Aziz's men never rest, do they?"

"Well, actually, Aziz said you  would dance at my party tonight and that I needed to talk to you" .

The perfume is delightful, and also the classic alpha male behavior. Every move of that man stirs my libido and my feminine instincts. And I should say, they haven't been stirred like this in a long time, ever since my mother fell ill.

"Alright, what do you need? Another party organizer or a housekeeper?"

Finally, he smiled, sarcastically saying, "I like your tough attitude. I believe you'll serve me perfectly."

"Here we need to be tough, or the system swallows us. By the way, the same system you're about to offer me. Look, I'm not a mule*, I don't carry drugs, I'm not a prostitute, and I'm not... What else could I not be?" I said, ticking off my fingers.

He smiled again. "You're amusing," he paused, "but that's not why I want to hire you."

"I'm still listening, but in two minutes, I'll be out the door."

"No, you won't," he said confidently. "I want you to be my fiancée."

I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to process what I just heard. "What?!"

"That's what you heard. I pay well, and I'll pay off your debt with Aziz."

Wait, this is getting interesting... He pays off my debt with Aziz? This guy must be crazy or a millionaire. Or crazy and a millionaire.

"You want to marry me?"

"N-no, I want you to pretend to be my fiancée whenever I need."

"Just that?"

He lights a cigarette, casually as if he could change his mind and choose another girl at any moment. I immediately thought of my mother when he does that. He brought it to his mouth in such a sexy way that it unsettled me. I don't like smokers, but in some men, that habit becomes absolutely sexy. He squinted so the smoke wouldn't bother his eyes and looked me up and down again. When he moved the cigarette away, he began to speak.

"I have important contacts here, new clients who are too old-fashioned and love the image of a straight businessman."

"Ah, so you are gay," I say with a hint of disappointment, because if I could have another night of hot sex, it would be with him.

"No, actually, I'm very straight, but I'm a dominant. That's why I don't have a girlfriend, but these guys are annoying. So you help me, and I'll help you," he explains.

More girls were coming out of the restroom to leave. Dominant... dominant... like in the movie?

"Like Fifty Shades of Grey?" I ask.

"That annoyingly popular thing, right?" he replies.

That was it. His aura just became even sexier and more intriguing. I had loved the movie and the book, and for a while, I really tried to find a dominant to teach me, but that was years ago, and now, at 29, those things doesn't matter anymore.

"Yes, it did get pretty popular. Well, I can't say I'm not interested. Obviously, paying off my debts is quite attractive, and if it's just that, we can talk," I say.

He chuckles nonchalantly. - "You can be sure it's just that. You're not a submissive, and that's why you don't interest me at all."

At all? Saying that was cruel. I am considered a beautiful woman. How could he say nothing interests him?

"I understand. And how much would the payment be?"

"Three thousand dollars, will that cover your expenses?"

Am I really doing business to be a fake fiancée for a dominant? How far you've come, Hazel!?

"It's more than enough; I don't even have a cat." I joke.

He approaches me, and I feel his imposing presence, standing around six feet tall or close to it. The man is incredibly handsome and is still wearing black gloves.

"My name is Jonathan, and this is my card," he hands me a corporate card. "If you're interested, call the personal number or leave a message, and I'll get back to you. Goodnight, Samira."

The man leaves the room, leaving me with shaky legs and that masculine and mesmerizing presence. The next thought that crosses my mind is: What kind of trouble am I getting myself into now?