Be My Fake Date

"Excuse me, sir, I don't understand what you just said," I muttered, my gaze fixed on his suit as I tried to avoid eye contact.

 "I'm not going on a date with you, sir. I just can't," I said again, pretending to search for a file. Maybe if I shuffled the papers enough, I'd magically find an escape route in my desk drawer.

 "Come on, Miss West, you're overthinking things. It's just a date, not like I was planning on marrying you or anything," he informed me with a smirk planted on his lips, looking at me like I was delusional.

 "Oh, funny me," I tried to play it cool by fakely laughing. How could I have been so foolish, thinking he would like me or pick me to be his real date? Come on, you're his secretary for crying out loud! My inner mind chimed in.

 Really, brain? Is this the best time for a reality check? Maybe he's just trying to make his ex-wife jealous. I'm basically a pawn in his weird, twisted chess game. My role: be the expendable, overly anxious secretary who pretends to be his date. Lovely.

 And let's not forget, I'm probably the fifth person he's asked today. He probably went down a list—names scribbled on a napkin in between bites of his overpriced sushi lunch. "Miss West, you have the honor of being my date," he'd announce while checking his watch, as if he had a line of women waiting for his attention.

 Sure, why not? I'll just show up, pretend I'm thrilled to be there, and dodge questions about our "relationship." This sounds like the perfect plan. Nothing could possibly go wrong.

 Except for everything. Like tripping over my heels, spilling red wine on his suit, or worse—actually having a good time and developing a crush on him. Oh, the horror!

 But really, it's just a date. No big deal, right? I can totally handle this. I just need to keep reminding myself that it's nothing serious. Breathe in, breathe out. It's just a date, not a proposal. Just a date... with my boss. The boss probably doesn't even remember my first name half the time.

 Oh great, now I'm spiraling. Breathe, Miss West, just breathe.

 He poured himself a glass of whiskey and drank it all in a gulp as he walked towards the window to watch the busy streets below.

 "I want you to help me, Miss West. My wife will be there, and I want to show her everything she's missing. Let her regret the day she decided to cheat on me."

 I knew it. I absolutely knew it. This was all for that nonsense Priscilla. Why hasn't he forgotten her or even filed for a divorce? Does he still love her? Or did she slip him some kind of love potion?

 That's not your business, Claire, my inner thoughts chimed in again.

 I looked at where he was standing and bit my lower lip a little, playing with my hands and looking at the floor. "But sir, I don't... I don't know if I can, sir."

 "Please, Miss West, do it for me. I'll double your pay if that's what it takes," he turned his face to me once more with his big brown eyes that could make me melt.

 "You're the only one who witnessed that day and saw how it shattered my soul. You're the only one, Claire. Please just say yes."

 The way my name rolled out of his mouth with his husky voice gave me goosebumps. I could only imagine him moaning my name. Damn.

 Okay, back to earth, Claire.

 Focus. He's offering to double my pay. That's like an extra month's rent and a spa day. Or, you know, enough to finally fix that annoying leak in my bathroom. And he's lying on the guilt trip pretty thick. I'm the only one who saw how it shattered his soul? Really? What is this, a soap opera?

 But those eyes... Seriously, why does he have to have those eyes? Big, brown, and begging like a puppy that lost its favorite chew toy. Ugh, focus!

 Alright, Claire, you're not doing this for the money. Well, maybe a little. But mostly, you're doing this to help a man in need. A man who... okay, fine, a man who makes your knees wobble and your brain turn to mush. But still, helping is helping, right?

 "Alright, sir. I'll do it," I said, trying to sound as professional as possible while my insides were doing somersaults. Great, now I've got a date with my boss to make his ex-wife jealous. What could possibly go wrong?

 He froze with the glass of whiskey in his hand, staring at me like I'd just offered him the winning lottery ticket. "You mean you'd do it? Really? Are you serious?" he exclaimed, a grin spreading across his face. He dropped the whiskey on the table and rushed to my side like an excited puppy.

 "Thank you so much, Claire." Oh, geez. He said my name again. His voice was like melted chocolate drizzling over my brain, making everything fuzzy and deliciously confusing.

 "But hold up folks, The only reason I said yes to him was because he said he would double my pay. That's all I promise".

 "That's a lie. The only reason you said yes is that you wanted him to be between your legs, my inner voice chimed in, unhelpfully. Shut up, I told myself, trying to silence my increasingly loud and annoying thoughts.

 "Just to be clear, the only reason I agreed is that you said you'd double my pay," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. Professional. Like I wasn't internally screaming.

 "Of course, Claire," he replied, his eyes gleaming with gratitude. "I appreciate this more than you know."

 His gratitude was almost endearing. Almost. If he weren't my boss, and if this weren't a ploy to make his ex-wife jealous, it might actually be cute. But here we are, Claire. Focus on the money. The money and maybe a little bit on those eyes. No, stop it. Money. Eyes. This is going to be a disaster.

 Alright, Claire, you're in too deep now. Just think of the double pay. And maybe the satisfaction of seeing Priscilla squirm.

 "Okay, okay, you're welcome," I said, waving my hand as if brushing away his thanks. "But remember, this is strictly business. Professional. Like a company merger. No fun business."

 "Understood," he said, his smile unwavering.

 Sure, he understands. He understands that he's just managed to rope his secretary into playing his fake girlfriend for the evening. And here I am, roped and ready to go.

 Alright, brain, let's get through this. Double pay. That's all it is. Just think about the money. And try not to melt every time he says your name.

 "You know what, let me take you out for dinner by 7 pm. How's that?" he said, his smile widening.

 "Oh no, sir... that's not necessary," I stammered, my mind racing. Dinner? With him? My brain was already short-circuiting from just agreeing to be his fake date.

 "But I insist," he replied, his tone leaving no room for argument.

 Great. Now I'm having dinner with my boss. A pre-date to our fake date. Just what I needed.

 "Uh, okay, if you insist," I mumbled, trying to sound casual while internally freaking out.

 "Perfect. I'll pick you up at 7," he said with a smile.

 I nodded, attempting a smile that probably looked more like a grimace. "Sure, sounds good."

 As he walked away, I could hear my inner voice laughing hysterically. Dinner? Really? This is escalating quickly. You're in way over your head, Claire.

 Alright, Claire, focus. Dinner with the boss. It's just dinner. Breathe. You can do this. Just think of it as a business meeting. A business meeting with a side of potential romantic tension and emotional landmines. No big deal, right?

 Oh boy, what have I gotten myself into?