Proposal... Unbusinesslike

Her first awakening was that she wasn't in her bed. Or her room. 

The fragrance of Black Chamomile and Cinnamon wafted through the air, infiltrating through her nostrils and permeating into her senses.

Her first instinct was to smile, savouring the sweet smelling aroma of spices which had now blended with a cologne... A masculine cologne that was all so familiar her smile ceased.

It was the same cologne she had perceived the night before at the... 

How the heck had she ended up dreaming of going to a strip club and meeting Andre Quinn of all people? 

Was it...

Memorised calculated footsteps halted her thoughts, pulling her away from that sanctuary of pretense she had attempted to hide in.

Those footsteps could only belong to her boss, scratch that, her boss' boss, who happened to be the CEO of the Quinn Corporation which was fast expanding from America to Europe. But despite what reality insisted on, he couldn't damn well be a stripper.... Or could he?

She swallowed hard, refusing to open her eyes. Her first observation of herself was that her mouth tasted like shit. Undiluted disgusting shit. 

It brought memories of puking in front of... 

Oh no, she was without a job, and she pulled the soft fluffy duvet over her body, tightening her eyes.

"You've woken up already. Get up." 

Oh fuck, her heart pounded incessantly without rhythm, but irrespective of how damn scared she was or how much she wanted to sink into the soft sheets and become one with them, hiding in there forever, she couldn't resist obeying that command.

Especially with that tone which bore all the drive he had used to conquer the business world. 

Clara forced her eyes open, blinking severally to adjust the green pair to the light. She bit her inner cheeks till she tasted blood, taking deep breaths to calm her beating heart.

Having become familiar with her environment, it took discipline not to exclaim in amazement.

It was magnificent; she lay in a Queen-size bed with several pillows plopped against each other, from which she quickly assessed the room.

Few paintings of famous artists hung on the walls whose architectural designs were topnotch. The walk-in closet was open, and had clothes and shoes of the both genders arranged in a line up...

That definitely put a stop to her appreciation. This was obviously a hotel room he had booked, or was it one of the numerous hotels he had acquired in a short span? Judging by his reputation and what she had seen, women had come here often. Which led her to slowly pull the duvet aside.

Goodness, she was in a housecoat she had definitely not paid for. 

A sigh of frustration again drew her out of it. Andre stood in the middle of the expansive luxurious room, pulling casual polo over his well-built body.

He had paired it with denim pants and sneakers, his hair ruffled beautifully. Now wasn't the time to appreciate the power of his masculinity or gawk over him. If she had fainted at the strip club, then how had she ended up in the hotel bed? What if they had...

"Did we have sex?" She blurted out, unable to keep it in. She didn't smell like vomit, and her clothes had been pulled off. What if she had compromised her job which was Oh God, the only thing she still had left?

His beautiful eyes glinted as he pulled the seat in front of the vanity towards her, his body wash and lotion and perfume coming together to blend into a beautiful signature fragrance that only he could pull off.

"If we did, you wouldn't be asking, because you would be sore all over." 

Shit. Her body felt hot again, like it had the night before.

She cleared her throat, about to say something when he continued, waving her away with his palm as though she didn't really matter. "Besides, I don't fuck my employees."

"Oh." She pulled the duvet over herself, as though it could hide the embarrassment she felt.

Andre crossed his legs, his mood suddenly switching to that of the unattainable CEO she had encountered every morning since she joined the company. 

It was his turn to clear his throat, tapping his fingers on his thighs as though deep in thought.

"So, Ms. Lynn, I'll go straight to the point. Since there was a compromise last night, I'll quickly resort to damage control. You sign an NDA and I have you transfered to another branch on Monday. You just have to move to another city and let my lawyer take care of your accommodation and transportation. Understood?"

Her first instinct was to blurt out, 'unbelievable!' How... Was she a doll to be dressed up and sent away as people chose? Was it her fault that she had uncovered his secret?

He should have damn well worn a mask that wasn't easy to pull off since he had cared about keeping it hidden so much.

She inhaled a deep breath, and was about to respond when he continued, giving her no room to speak.

"I understand that moving to our branch in England would do you more good since you just broke up with your boyfriend. I will have my lawyer visit you this evening with a contract..."

"What the fuck?" The words flew from her lips even before her brain registered it, but she didn't feel apologetic about any shit. 

"Ms. Lynn?" He had the guts to look surprised.

"How the fuck do you know that?" She had definitely not told him that in her state of unconsciousness, had she? She didn't talk in her sleep, and he damn well didn't read minds.

He ignored her language, remaining cool and calculated. "I had my P.I. do a little background check on you."

Her green orbs sparked, anger filling them.

"Why? Why the hell would you do that? You invaded my privacy just to keep your stupid secret safe huh? 'A little background check?' Look, Mr. Quinn, this is my fucking life, and you have no right interfering in it. You have the guts to demand that I go all the way to another continent just so I will protect your shit?"

He was taken aback for a second. The girl who brought his coffee every morning always had an awkward smile on her face, she never complained when she was being asked to work overtime and she was extremely grateful when she was given a raise for her hard work.

But before him was fire and ice, green eyes which he hadn't noticed before wishing to burn him, her lips screaming swear words.

But then, situations could incite such emotions in people. He again ignored her anger, reasoning that it should be expected based on what she had gone through.

He couldn't help but admit though that his assistant was a piece of gullibility, based on what his P.I. had uncovered about her relationship life. Even more gullible than his father had been...

Waving that topic out of his head, he stared at her, watching her take calming breaths. He waited in silence for her to regain her cool, figuring that he couldn't attempt to reason with her in that current state.

Being on the receiving end of her vomit the night before had been hellish; it had taken soaking himself in the bath tub to be able to think properly. Well, that had been after instructing a staff to take care of his assistant first.

"Ms. Lynn, I asked you this last night, but I will repeat it. What do you want in exchange for your discretion? Money? A new house? Promotion? You name it, and it's yours." 

Having gotten over the phase of anger, Clara's eyes glinted as he mentioned what she had lost. Sure she still had her apartment; she had paid for it anyway.

But she couldn't spend a night there after what she had witnessed in it. Before now, the period of her crisis, she would have asked for nothing and simply promised to keep his secret.

But being Ms. Goody-Two-Shoes had only got her bullied, cheated on and undermined. It was time to grab hold of the opportunity she had; perhaps this was the universe' way of compensating her.

Andre watched the small smile creep to her lips, and knew he had got her where he wanted. 

"So, what do you want?" He asked again, reclining into the seat, his swerving mind relaxing.

She smiled again, looking more confident, bolder. Her eyes eyes glinted with mischief, as though telling him, 'Oh, you'll see.'