WARM MY BED FOR TWO WEEKS

CALI

Immediately, I stepped out and clutched my chest, my heart hammering like it might burst through my ribcage. Is this boss of mine stalking me? Why does he always know when I arrive? I’m not even his PA just a secretary who barely knows her way around the office. My mind raced as I tried to make sense of it.

Then it hit me: the information about my arrival must have come from his PA. But why had she acted like she owned the place, glaring at me and barking orders as if she were the one in charge? Boss like PA, I huffed in irritation. She really didn’t need to make everything so complicated.

I shook my head and tried to focus. Oh no… I still needed to talk to my boss about the money, I reminded myself, clasping my hands together as they grew sweaty. My nervousness only made me more self conscious. I approached his door and knocked lightly, hoping he wouldn’t notice how much my hands were trembling.

“Any problem, Miss Rillion?” His husky voice called out, calm but sharp.

“Yes… um… no, sir,” I stammered, pausing as I tried to collect my thoughts.

“I just wanted to discuss something with you, sir,” I added cautiously, my words barely above a whisper.

“Okay, I’m all ears,” he said, finally looking up from the papers he was reading.

The PA’s presence nearby made me even more uncomfortable. Her glare earlier lingered in my mind, a reminder that I had little room for error. The excuses she had given for her behavior were obvious, but still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that she was silently judging me. Before leaving reluctantly, she shot me one last hard glare, as if daring me to fail.

“Take your seat,” he said calmly, his voice nothing like the cold, sharp tone he had used minutes ago.

“Don’t worry, sir. I’d prefer to stand,” I replied politely, forcing a small smile that didn’t reach my eyes.

“Alright, go on,” he said, gesturing for me to speak, his gaze now fixed on me like a hawk waiting for its prey.

I swallowed hard. “Sir…” I called softly. He lifted his face gently from what he was reading, his piercing eyes meeting mine. I bit my lip nervously, wishing I could disappear.

“Sir, I need your help,” I said, my voice barely steady. His face softened just slightly, but I could tell he was waiting for the story to unfold.

I muttered a curse under my breath and cleared my throat under his keen, unwavering gaze.

“My sixteen year old brother was diagnosed with cancer,” I said shakily, feeling the words lodge in my throat. “The doctor said I must deposit $200,000 within twentyfour hours.”

Tears slid down my cheeks before I could stop them. I wiped them quickly, not wanting him to see me as weak or pathetic. He continued staring silently, urging me to continue, his silence almost more terrifying than a harsh word.

“The doctor said we might lose him if I don’t get the money within the stipulated time,” I added, my voice trembling.

“So?” he asked, his tone firm and cold, yet attentive. I sighed, feeling a mix of frustration and desperation.

“Sir, I don’t know if you could lend me the money and deduct it from my monthly salary,” I said carefully, my hands wringing together. I held my breath, awaiting his response.

He leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable. “How do you expect me to lend such an amount to a newly employed secretary?” he asked sharply, clearly skeptical.

I scoffed softly and sighed, the sound more desperate than I intended. My chest felt tight, and I could feel every muscle in my body tense.

“I can help you,” he said grumpily, his voice low and deliberate, “if you agree to what I’m about to ask.”

I swallowed hard, my stomach twisting in dread. Argh. I had a bad feeling about this.

“I’m ready to do anything, sir,” I replied desperately, biting my fingers nervously. I prayed silently that it wasn’t what I feared.

He grinned in a way that made my stomach lurch violently, a sly, knowing curve that held both amusement and calculation. Then he cleared his throat, sitting upright, resting his hands on the table. Suddenly, the room seemed heavier, the air thicker.

“I want you to act as my fiancée and warm my bed for two weeks,” he said finally, his voice calm but commanding.

I gasped, my breath catching in my throat. I had suspected something like this might happen, but hearing it spoken aloud still shook me to my core. My mind raced, panic and disbelief colliding with my determination. I was trapped but I couldn’t let myself lose my dignity, not entirely.

“You have five minutes to give me an answer, Missy,” he said gruffly, his eyes never leaving mine, as if daring me to refuse.

I stared at him, then sank gently into the nearby chair, trying to steady my racing thoughts. I couldn’t lose my dignity… and I couldn’t let my brother die.

This is terrible. I’m so stuck, I screamed inwardly, feeling the storm of panic and desperation rage inside me.

“Your time is almost up,” he said, leaning back slightly, his expression unreadable. I shot him a deadly glare, but he didn’t budge. My hands trembled slightly, and I looked down, my breath uneven, heart pounding like a drum in my chest.

How did I end up here? I thought, fighting the whirlwind of fear and anxiety inside me. The clock was ticking, the weight of my brother’s life pressing down on me, and yet I had no idea how to navigate this impossible demand.

“Time’s up,” he said, his voice steady, clearly expecting my answer.

I closed my eyes for a brief moment, inhaling sharply, and prepared myself to respond. There was no turning back now.