Chapter 3: The CEO I Paid

(Ciara’s POV)

I was still in a state of panic. 

“Why is this happening to me? Oh God, why am I so out of luck?” 

My heart refused to calm down, beating wildly against my chest like it was trying to escape the consequences before I could face them. I thought of everything that happened, every detail, every foolish, embarrassing, unforgivable detail. 

Why did I do that to him? Why did I open my mouth? Why did I think it was a reasonable idea to throw money at a complete stranger? And worse, why did I care about the way he looked at me? That look was cold, sharp, offended, like I had insulted something important.

I swallowed hard.

 “I cannot get tired,” I muttered. 

“I need this job. I have rent. I have bills. I have a life to survive.” 

My hands trembled slightly on the table as I slowly lifted my eyes again, and there he was, standing in front of everyone. He was tall, composed, dressed in a perfectly fitted suit that spoke of power and wealth. The same man from last night, except now he was not just a man. 

He was Lucas Blake, my CEO.

“My name is Lucas Blake,” he said calmly, his deep voice filling the room as though he owned the air. Of course he did. He owned the company, the building, and probably everything in it, including my peace. My stomach twisted painfully. This could not be my life.

Beside me, Lizzie grabbed my arm tightly. 

“Ciara,” she whispered, her voice shaking with suppressed laughter and shock,

 “you paid him.” 

“I know,” I whispered back. 

“You paid the CEO.” 

“I know.”

 “You did not even negotiate properly.” I turned to her slowly. 

“Lizzie, this is not the time.” 

“You could have at least asked for a discount.” I stared at her. 

“Are you alright?”

 “I am just saying.” 

“I am about to lose my job and you are talking about a discount?” She bit her lip, trying not to laugh.

 “I am sorry, but this is too funny.” 

“This is not funny. This is my downfall.” 

“This is entertainment.” 

“I do not like you.” 

“You do. Continue.”

“There is nothing to continue,” I said, but she leaned closer. 

“What exactly did you tell him?” I froze. 

“…nothing much.”

 “Ciara.” “…I might have insulted him a little.” Her eyes widened. 

“How little is little?” I looked away. 

“…I told him he was not worth the money.” 

She hit my arm lightly. 

“You did what?”

 “Keep your voice down!”

 “You insulted your CEO?” 

“I did not know he was my CEO!” 

“You are finished,” she whispered. 

“I know.”

 “No, this is beyond finished.” 

“I know.”

 “You told me you called him overpriced.” “I was negotiating.” 

“You were negotiating with a billionaire?” 

“I thought he was struggling!” She shook with silent laughter. “Did you say anything else?” I hesitated. “…maybe.” 

“Ciara.” 

“I told him I had better.” She froze completely. 

“Ciara.”

A few heads turned, and we both faced forward immediately. 

“I am going to pretend I did not hear that,” she whispered. 

“Please do.”

 “You insulted his pride, his ego, and his money.” 

“I did not know his money was that much.” 

“That is not the point.” I buried my face briefly in my hands. 

“This is a nightmare.”

 “No,” she said. “This is your reality.”

His voice filled the room again, and silence followed instantly. “Welcome back,” Lucas Blake said calmly, and everyone listened. Except me. I was focused on survival. The meeting felt endless. Every second stretched painfully. Every time he moved, I felt it. Every time he spoke, I felt it. And every time I looked up, I found his eyes on me, not wandering, not guessing, but focused, like he had already identified his target. Me. I looked away immediately each time, my heart jumping. Please do not remember me. Please do not call me. Please do not embarrass me.

The moment the meeting ended, I stood up quickly.

 “Where are you going?” Lizzie whispered. 

“I am leaving.” “You cannot leave your destiny.” “Watch me.” I grabbed my bag and walked toward the exit carefully. Do not look back. Walk normally. Do not run.

“Miss Ciara.”

I froze. Slowly, I turned, but he was not looking at me. Someone else responded. Relief flooded me, and I continued walking, leaving the room and the danger behind. Freedom, I thought. However, that freedom did not last long.

I had barely settled at my desk when a shadow appeared in front of me. I looked up and saw Mr. Nathan McDonald, our strict supervisor. 

“Ciara.” My heart dropped.

 “Yes, sir?” 

“Mr. Lucas Blake would like to see you.” Everything inside me stopped.

 “…me?” 

“Is there another Ciara here?” 

“No, sir.” 

“Then stand up.”

Lizzie leaned toward me. 

“You are going to die,” she whispered. 

“Pray for me,” I replied. 

“I will plan your funeral.” 

“I do not like you.”

 “Go.”

I stood up slowly, my legs weak, and walked toward his office like someone being led to judgment. Each step felt heavier than the last. By the time I reached the door, I paused. This was it. My career, my salary, my life. Gone. I knocked. 

“Come in.”

I entered. His office was intimidating, clean, organized, and expensive, everything controlled. And there he was, seated behind his desk like a king. His eyes lifted immediately and locked onto mine with clear recognition. 

“Close the door.” I did, my heart pounding loudly.

 “Good morning, sir,” I said, my voice small.

He leaned back slightly, studying me in silence before speaking. 

“You seem familiar.” I almost fainted. 

“I do not think so, sir.”

 He stood up and walked toward me slowly. I stepped back instinctively, and he noticed. He stopped close to me, then reached into his drawer, pulled something out, and dropped it on the table beside me.

I looked down and froze. It was the money. The same money.

“I believe this belongs to you,” he said calmly. My mouth went dry. 

“I…” 

“I am not a prostitute.” I nearly choked. 

“I know.”

 “Do you?” 

“I did not know then. I was drunk, very drunk.” He folded his arms.

 “And your conclusion was that I sell my body?”

 “I made a mistake.” 

“A bold mistake.” 

“I panicked.” 

“You negotiated.” I froze. He remembered everything.

“You told me I was overpriced,” he continued. I wanted to disappear. 

“You said you have had better.” I covered my face. 

“I was lying.”

 “I assumed so.” He did not look angry, which made it worse.

 “I apologize,” I said quickly. “I am very sorry.”

He pushed the money toward me. “Take it.” I shook my head. 

“No, sir.” “Take it.” “I do not want it.”

 “You gave it.” “I regret it.” He paused, then nodded. 

“Very well.” He returned to his desk, and the tension eased slightly.

 “I will not sack you,” he said. Relief flooded me instantly. 

“Thank you, sir.” “Professional standards must be maintained.”

 “Yes, sir.”

 “I do not mix personal misunderstandings with business.” 

“Yes, sir.”

I turned quickly. “Thank you, sir, I appreciate”

“Ciara.”

I froze and turned back slowly. He was looking at me again, differently this time, thoughtful and calculating. “I am having second thoughts.”

My heart dropped. My breath caught. Second thoughts? About my job? My future? I swallowed.

 “…sir?”

 His gaze remained fixed on mine, and suddenly the room felt smaller, tighter, like something was about to change. My fingers curled, and my heartbeat quickened again.

Was I getting sacked?