Hired To Betray, Tempted To Love

The man in front of me is very attractive.

With his chiseled jawline, messy-looking dark hair that wants me to run my fingers through it, and a five o'clock beard on his cheeks, he has the face of one of my ideal men. He turns the sheets idly, like a professor going over exam papers, his blue, captivating eyes focused on my file. His charisma is enhanced by the way his Rolex watch reflects the light from the enormous glass wall behind him.

His presence commands the room as he wears a deep gray three-piece suit that covers his broad shoulders and slender muscles.

He is so stunning to look at that I realized right away that if I couldn't control my imagination, this plan would never succeed. Like me, if you read too many romance books on BookTok, you start to see yourself as the heroine whenever a situation you've seen before comes up. The man's deep voice makes me tense my knees as he says, "Miss Cynthia Lucas..." He closes the file and looks directly at me. He examines me while resting his chin on top of it and placing his elbows on top of it. "I'll ask one simple question-why do you want this job?"

I stiffen in my chair and purse my lips. "Mr. Drake, I've done extensive research on your business. I believe your management and atmosphere are ideal for what I'm searching for. I'll try my hardest to prove myself worthy of the job if I'm hired."

He stops me from babbling by raising a hand and waving it in the air. Like a man who knows he controls the topic without asking permission, he reclines in his chair and says, "Miss Lucas." "You've submitted an application to be my PA. In addition to diligence and commitment, the role requires that I get along with others. I take it you get what I'm saying?" "Yes, I do.

He picks up my portfolio once more and studies it while nodding gently. I'm impressed by your qualifications; however, I'm hesitant about the section describing your interests and hobbies. Could you give me a more thorough description of them?" "I enjoy reading," I respond right away. "I enjoy reading, knitting, and blogging about various topics. I can kill time with it.

Mr. Drake raises a dark eyebrow and dismissively shakes his head. "Thirty other applicants with similar interests have come across me. Miss Lucas, tell me what makes you unique. Why should I pick you, in your opinion?

He puts down my portfolio and looks at me more intently, as though he's eager to see if I'm finally becoming tired of him. He is making this casual talk seem so official, even if my interests have nothing to do with the requirements of the position. Mr. Drake, I am aware that my credentials are not very noteworthy, but I have been told that my commitment to any task can surprise people. Almost everything I do is something I'm enthusiastic about, and my work is no exception. I work because I enjoy it, not to make money. It makes me happy. "Do you enjoy your job, Miss Lucas? A childish smirk appears on the corner of his lips. I cannot deny it. He's a charming man. "How much pleasure exactly?"

I can tell that his line of inquiry is gradually shifting. But he doesn't smile. The smallest bend is even in his smirk. This man has probably never smiled before. He never smiled in any of the magazine photos or the Forbes Top 40 Youngest Billionaires list from the previous year. I'll tell you, Mr. Drake, if you grant me the job, you'll find me quite enjoyable. I square my shoulders and respond, "I've been told I have a lot of flexibility." "For work, of course."

Mr. Drake's jaw doesn't budge as his gaze slides over my body, taking in my pricey yet inexpensive Walmart dress that I bought just for this interview. Getting the job is not my job. My task is to reach him. Like I was instructed, I gave it my all. Like a professional lady, I wear my dark brown hair in a tidy bun at the back of my head, but there are a few tendrils that perfectly frame my face in waves. Although I haven't worn much makeup, most men can't help but notice my wine-red lipstick.

However, Mr. Drake shrugs uninterestedly, showing that he is not impressed. Miss Lucas, thank you for coming in, but I doubt you will be able to fulfill my expectations. When I criticize my assistant, I want someone who can confront me, speak out when I'm wrong, and not run to the toilet in tears. Do you think you can handle that? Because you appear to me to be just as commonplace as the many other applicants that entered and sat here today. "And just by sitting here and asking me pointless questions, you were able to infer that about my personality?" I hurl back at him and then confidently lean forward to meet his stare. "You might want to ask them about something more pertinent than their interests if you're serious about hiring someone today. Give me a scenario, for instance, and ask me how I would respond to it as your future PA. "Miss Lucas, you're teaching me how to do interviews? "The man looks at me curiously, clearly insulted. " You'll do well to remember which side of this room you're sitting on. "You mentioned that you wanted someone who would confront you and call out your errors, didn't you? That's what I'm doing, Mr. Drake."

He clenches his jaw even more. He approaches and looks at me while resting his forearms on the top of the desk and crossing them over one another. I can't take my eyes off his sharp features and his intense blue eyes, which go well with every aspect of his name.

Ethan Drake.

ranked in the top 15 on Forbes' list of the youngest billionaires for 2022.

31 years old

6'2"

Hair Color: Black Eye Color: Blue

Passions: frowning and complaining

Favorite: Getting challenged

People who fear him are something that he dislikes.

Source: From a really close friend or relative. "Miss Lucas." Without trying, his voice has a sensual melody and sounds soft as it dips in depth. "This is where you're playing with fire. I'm not like the men who find your impetuous behavior attractive in your little romance novels. Since you're currently only bothering me, I'm actually the complete opposite."

I bend forward as well, placing my chin above his desk and clasping my hands on top of it, not letting his remarks hurt me. Do you intimidate anyone who points out your errors, Mr. Drake? Because that further diminishes the attractiveness of your personality. I provided you with a straightforward solution to your problem. You ought to give me thanks. "Miss Lucas, stop bickering. You're not capable of doing it."If you give me a chance, I will," I say. "You don't scare me. I'll show you if you give me a chance. I'm not going to give up."

I can tell I have him where I want him when I see the twitch in one of his eye's corner muscles and the tick of his jaw. After a little pause, he says, "Miss Lucas..." "Yes, Mr. Drake?" After saying, "The job is yours," he relaxes and leans back in his rotating chair.

This new development causes my eyes to widen. Naturally, I didn't expect it would be so simple. My mouth opens in surprise as I back away from his desk, my limbs quivering slightly. Mr. Drake, are you certain? "I ask, thinking I must have heard him wrong. "I'm positive. You have the job. Finally, the man flashes a small smile, but it's a cunning one that he should keep hidden from the world since it's terrifying to see. "...for a month."

Oh no!" "A month?" Even more surprised than the first time, I blink at him. Indeed, Miss Lucas. You have a month to demonstrate your suitability as my PA. If you can get through this month without letting me down in any manner, your pay will be quadruple what I gave in the advertisement. Along with many other benefits, the employment will cover your medical expenses, provide you with your own apartment, and provide a vacation package.

I take a big sip, thinking that all of that is truly mine. It sounds like a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I used to be uninterested in the job, but now I find it fascinating.

I have long struggled to handle my affairs because I come from a very poor background and lost my adoptive father a few years ago. I find it difficult to believe this opportunity because his offer seems so amazing. Really? The catch-what is it? " Mr. Drake looks at me more intently and raises a hand to wipe at his lower lip. "Just one, Miss Lucas." "In front of my entire staff, you will apologize to me for your impudent actions if you lose. Has that been completed?

As he rises from his chair, the millionaire jerk offers me a handshake.

I make myself grin and stand up as I examine his hand before accepting it. His grip is firm, and his skin feels warm against mine. "Yes, Mr. Drake," I reply. Miss Lucas, welcome to Drake Enterprises. He tightens his hold on my hand. "I hope you have an excellent time here."

Tia unconventionally blinks at me when I narrate the day's events to her. Her green eyes flutter behind her thick lashes. I observe her in my mirror while I decorate my eyes with black eyeliner, creating a butterfly effect on the sides.

"Oh my God, Cynthia!" she suddenly exclaims, getting up from my bed and covering her mouth with her hands. "You were challenged by Ethan Drake! How can you be so okay after that?"

She looks visibly speechless, not a surprise considering the way she has had a crush on Ethan Drake ever since he came on the front page of Forbes magazine. She has made him her idol and wants to follow his path to success when she opens her own digital business.

The doe-eyed creature even has his public appearances memorized from morning to night, which makes me wonder if she would have been his perfect assistant instead of me. She is even prettier than I am. Maybe she would have been a better choice.

Her black dress hugs her curves, and behind her temporary glasses, there is a sweet, heart-shaped face with milky skin and full lips as she stares at me wide-eyed. Her brunette hair hangs loosely over her shoulders, framing her face in gentle waves.

I, on the other hand, am dressed in a simple white crop top with full sleeves and a royal blue skirt, which doesn't stick to my curves as hers does. My hair is in a half-updo, unlike hers.

"It's nothing much, Tia." I drop the eyeliner back in my make-up box before turning to her. "That man is not the idol you make him to be. He doesn't even know how to conduct a proper interview! I pissed him off, and that's why he gave me the job."

"But you got to meet him!" Tia contradicts, making dreamy eyes at the ceiling. "And Cynthia, he is so handsome. God, I wish I were in your place."

"Your opinions would have changed," I remark, picking up my sling bag from the bed. "Besides, you're lucky you get to do your dream job. I mean, Digital Manager for Bright Media? Hello, that's huge!"

"But my boss isn't some handsome guy I would drop my panties for in a second. He's a half-aged dude with an eternal growl plastered twenty-four seven."

"And my boss has an eternal scowl on his thirty-one-year-old face. That's disturbing. I don't know what it would cost that man to smile once in a while. I never saw him smile."

"For real, Cynthia. Your hormones are too strong for my taste. If I were in your place, he would have had me in one go. The way he lifts his eyebrow towards the media is always a classic signal," Tia comments, following me out of my room.

"Won't deny that. He does have very angry eyebrows."

"Oh, I forgot to ask you." She turns to face me with a strangely serious look on her face as she crosses her arms over her chest. "Why didn't you tell me that our lease has been paid in full? I thought it would be months before that happens. Now I owe you."

I go still at her words. I completely forgot about the lease. There is no way he paid for that, too. He promised me he would stop interfering.

Tia and I bought our apartment on a lease six months ago after we graduated with our business degrees. We were both lucky to have stumbled upon each other on the day of the viewing of the 2-BHK space. Since we both loved the space and didn't have enough to get the full apartment, we ended up making a deal between ourselves.

This was how our friendship started, and as of now, in this big city called LA, she is the only one I am close enough to call a friend. I love the girl like anything to lie to her.

But the lease? I can't tell her the truth.

"Oh yeah..." I shake my head awkwardly. "Yeah, I paid in full. You don't have to pay me now, don't worry. I got some money saved and decided to get the burden off our heads."

"But you could have at least discussed it with me, Liz," Tia complains. "This makes me feel so bad. I would have contributed from my savings too."

Unable to decide what to say, I go for the option that makes me not look like a sacrificial lamb.

"Well, you can just pay it to me." I shrug. "Anyways, let's not talk about it now. You wanted to go to the bar to celebrate, and we'll be doing just that. Not speaking of apartments and leases."

She gives me a pointed look, which makes me suspect that she, in turn, suspects something fishy. I keep a giant smile on my face as she studies me with inquisitive eyes.

"Fine," she says after a while. "But I'm paying you soon."

"Can't wait," I grin shamelessly, hiding from her the fact that I didn't pay anything at all.

He did.

***

The bar we go into has a plethora of customers, and the usual standard area has been converted into a club where the music is jamming at its highest. People are crushed against each other, grinding and kissing and licking. I wish I were here to do that with someone. It has been such a long time since my last asshole boyfriend.

Matt had been all fun and nice - sunshine and rainbows - until he had ended up slapping me in a fit of rage. In return, I had kicked him in the balls so hard with my heels that the dude ended up in the hospital for a week.

I have never been that satisfied with choosing violence.

Tia grabs my hand, pulling me to the end of the bar and towards the counter. We find two empty stools and quickly claim our seats, slapping our hands at the counter to call out for drinks.

"Sex on the beach!" we both shout, making the bartender, a charming young man, smirk as he prepares our drinks.

When he places them near us, we grab the glasses and clink them together.

"Here's to new jobs and asshole bosses!" Tia makes a toast, swallowing a long sip of her drink.

I follow her, wincing first and then drinking in the juicy feeling.

"Oh Gosh...I love this place," I remark, pulling Tia to the dance floor with me.

We dance together wildly, twisting our bodies and bobbing our heads. Men stare at us, and we admire the attention, letting our hands seductively run through our bodies. The lights mingle with blue and red, creating shadows on the floor.

"I'm so happy for you, Cynthia!" Tia shouts, letting the people around us know how happy she is.

In here, nobody minds our loud mouths and ludicrous moves. Here we are free from the constraints of life. This night is ours, and we are going to make the best of it.

Or at least that's what I think before a large figure walks past me, making me nearly stumble, but before I can lose my balance, two strong arms grab me by my waist, pulling me firmly against a hard chest.

"Thank you..." I smile as I look up, and the smile falls instantly.

With a tall body, sturdy muscles, and a suit without creases, Ethan Drake's hardened face stares down at me with eyes so piercing blue that I gulp immediately, my eyes darting to find my friend, only to see her in the arms of another guy as they both dance together.

"Miss Lucas..." His grip around my waist tightens as he pulls me firmer against his chest, encasing me in the protection of his arms when two young boys pass us. "What are you doing here, dancing alone?"

I rest my palms on Mr. Drake's chest, holding the lapels of his suit as I gaze at him.

"I'm not alone, Mr. Drake," I reply. "I came with my friend."

"And where is your irresponsible friend, may I know?"

"No, you may not."

His expression hardens, but his eyes sparkle with mischief I have already become used to. Using the force of my hands on his chest, I push away from him, quickly wrapping my arms over my chest. Mr. Drake's gaze immediately drifts down to my top, where a V-cut neck gives a glimpse of my cleavage. He moves past that area of my body and looks at the crowded dance floor.

Frowning, he puts a hand on my elbow, holding me gently and ushering me to a less crowded space. His touch makes my flesh give birth to goosebumps at the heat between us. I try to pull my elbow from him, but his hold is tough to break.

When we stop facing each other, he puts his hands in the pockets of his dress pants and stands tall.

"Miss Lucas, you should know better than to waste your time partying tonight. Tomorrow is your first day at work, and unfortunately, you seem to be already disappointing me."

"We're not in the office."

He narrows his eyes at me. "That I can see."

Dark lights dance over his face, giving his roughly handsome visage an even more handsome look. He is dressed in the same clothes I saw him wearing at the office, but he has changed his Lucas watch for a platinum-plated one. It shines bright, and one can easily guess that it costs thousands. A man like him should be visiting richer bars, not a common one like those visited by any other LA citizen.

"Want me to buy you a drink, Miss Lucas?" he asks.

"You're offering me a drink? After all that happened between us?" I raise an eyebrow in speculation.

Mr. Drakelets out a growl or a laugh, I can't distinguish at all.

"Miss Lucas, believe me, nothing scandalous has happened between us..." His eyes fall to my outfit again, curiously sliding up my legs. "Yet."

My skin flushes, heat filling me and making me increasingly aware of how close we are. He has his one hand on my elbow still, and his eyes are fully concentrated on me. I see his face darken as he registers the closeness, too.

"Hmm...I think I'd rather choke on a melon than sleep with you, Mr. Drake."

His eyes widen, and he releases me quickly, looking embarrassed for a second.

"What makes you think I was talking about sex, Miss Lucas?" he says calmly. "I was only referring to all that might happen between us tomorrow once you apologize to me in front of my whole staff."

I laugh at his confidence, putting my hands behind my back and staring up at him.

"Mr. Drake..." I begin. "I'm never apologizing to you, and neither will I be disappointing you that easily. This job will be mine permanently, no matter what you try otherwise."

"That confident, Miss Lucas?"

I smile, taking a step closer and raising my hands to his chest. His body tenses when my fingers brush up his suit until they find the top-most button of his white shirt. I release it from its hold slowly and then move my fingers down to release another. The first glimpse of his chest becomes visible, a light dust of hair scattered over a taut torso, and I crane my neck towards his face.

The air around us tingles with tension, the epiphany of our closeness holding us in place, eyes locked to one another.

"Never learned to be anything else, Mr. Drake. Now, if you'll excuse me. I need to go to the washroom."

As I turn to leave him, I catch a glimpse of his handsome face where the lips happen to form just an illusion of a smile as he watches me walk away.

The bathroom mirrors reflect five faces of myself to me, showing me exactly how flushed I am after that encounter with Mr. Drake.

I know somewhere that I am crossing my lines more than necessary by challenging my boss one night before my workday. So far, from our two conversations, I have managed to figure out that Ethan Drake has five different kinds of scowls.

Unfortunately, they all look the same, and they are all present on his face all the time.

This man has managed to make me more nervous in a span of twelve hours than I have been my whole life. Heck! I wasn't even nervous when I lost my virginity to Braden Taylor in 10th grade.

I sigh at the mirror and then turn the tap on to wash my face. I don't care about my makeup anymore, and if I keep myself adjusted, I will end up drinking some more, and a hangover isn't a good thing early in the morning of your first day at work. If I look worse, I will feel more comfortable leaving.

The cool water releases some tension in my nerves, and when I lift my head back up, my makeup is mostly washed away, bringing my many freckles visible to the eyes. Everything has been washed out except for the waterproof eyeliner.

Thank Walmart for that, too.

Releasing a sigh, I open the door to the washroom to step out. Loud music greets my ears, and I see people being even more drunk and crazier than they were when I left the floor.

I look at the crowd to search for Tia and see her making out with a guy on the dance floor. From here, he looks kind of cute, and I don't want to interfere with her make-out session. Grinning at her luck, I take out my phone and type a quick message to her before sending it.

He's cute. Great catch.

I'm going home.

As I put my phone back into my bag, someone collides with me pretty hard, sending me crashing against a nearby wall. I see spots for seconds as my vision darkens.

"Hey, watch out!" I yell, holding my head as it spins.

The person who collided with me turns. He looks big, old, and completely drunk. He even has his saliva dripping down his mouth to his beard, and is carrying a bottle in his hand.

It's disgusting.

"Fucking bitch! Standing...in the way," he growls at me and steps forward.

I instantly back against the wall when he steps closer and extends an arm to grab me.

"Hey! Move away!" I try to walk past him, but he blocks my way and brings his smelly, drunken face close to my own.

His hands are on my arms, hooking into my neckline as he tries to tear it open.

"You'll do for tonight," he slurs, dripping booze down his mouth.

I try to reach for my sling bag, where I always carry pepper spray, but his body pushing against mine leaves me without space. My arm is crammed between his body and the wall, and the pressure of his weight knocks the breath out of my lungs.

I don't even realize when I start to cry, but as I push against his chest hard, I find fat tears moving down my cheeks.

"Let me go!" I sob, crying against his assaults.

No one seems to be coming to my rescue. Everyone is drunk, and it is late, and my best friend is lost in kissing. No, this can't be happening. I can't be getting raped in the middle of a party.

As the man reaches for the hem of my skirt to push it up, a hand slaps on his T-shirt, pulling him off me in one swift force.

I gasp, feeling the relief of his body being lifted from me before my sight clears, and I see the person who saved me.

Ethan Drake pushes the guy against another wall, and as I watch, his fist comes up, hitting the man hard against his cheek. The force is so strong that the man falls to the floor, slurping and becoming unconscious within a second.

"Oh my God!" I exclaim, unable to believe that someone's one punch can have so much power.

I look up at Mr. Drake as he releases his hold from the guy's T-shirt and corrects the creases in his suit like a gentleman. A few drunken people who had been paying attention to the scene cheer at him before walking off.

He turns to me, and I find his strong gaze keeping me rooted in place.

"Miss Lucas, are you okay?" he asks, taking a step toward me.

"Yeah...I think I am," as I speak the words, my head hurts, and the floor beneath my feet rocks.

I stumble, falling, but his arms catch me, and before I can stop him, Mr. Drake is scooping me up in his arms swiftly.

"Hold on, Miss Lucas. Seems like you have got a concussion. Would you like me to take you to the hospital?"

I don't know what he expects me to answer because my brain has completely stopped functioning. From here, I can only see his deep eyes gazing into mine with concern and the feel of his hand under my bare knees. The skin burns so much at the heat of his contact that it feels like I would be left with an imprint of his hand tomorrow.

My arms are around his neck, and I am unconsciously staring at his lips.

"Miss Lucas?" His deep voice knocks me back to my senses, and I look around us to see the floor completely packed.

No one is paying attention to either of us or to the man who is knocked out flat on the floor.

"No, thanks..." I blurt, my voice sounding lazily drunk. My cheeks flush in embarrassment. "I'd like to go home, please. Would you call me a taxi?"

I request him as if it is a casual favor from a stranger and not from someone who is literally in his arms. My mind is too dizzy to ask him to put me down right now. Don't know what other morons I will end up encountering if he does.

Mr. Drake looks at me darkly and then he adjusts me in his arms, such that my head is lying on his shoulder. With a strong flex of his muscles, he begins walking while I shamelessly lie as a caterpillar in a cocoon. My hold around his neck tightens, bringing me close to his musky scent of beer and sandalwood.

He walks us out of the bar, but instead of calling for a taxi, he begins to carry me towards a car.

An Audi

"Umm...Mr. Drake?" I murmur against his shoulder.

"Yes?" he asks, continuing to maintain that scowl.

"Where are you taking me?"

"Depends on where you live, Miss Lucas."

"Where do I live?"

He stops in front of his car at my question and raises an amused eyebrow at me. Even from this angle, the eyebrow looks angry.

Very very angry

"Miss Lucas..." he speaks calmly. "You've managed to get under my skin in the last twelve hours by insulting me, making fun of me, challenging me, and now getting wounded. Do you wish to piss off any further while you're literally in my arms?"

I press my lips to a thin line. What a rude man!

Shut up, Cynthia. This rude man is taking you home.

"I didn't ask you to carry me."

"It was either this or leaving you there to be trampled on by drunken feet. Would you have preferred that, Miss Lucas?"

"No," I huff. "Take me home."

I see him muttering something to himself as he pulls open the door to the passenger seat of his car. With his strong hands, he puts me inside, and his knuckles brush over the sliver of exposed skin of my belly when my crop top hitches up. We both inhale a breath, me out of awkwardness, him, I have no idea why.

He hooks the seat belt around my torso. Shutting the door, he walks around the car, opens the other side, and gets in. As he starts the engine, he takes another look at me, and his frown deepens.

He is either disgusted or troubled. I do believe it is the first. I look hideous.

"Which way?" he asks.

"Drive straight," I say, and then mumble the rest of the address as I lay my head back in the seat, closing my eyes.

The hum of the engine soothes me a little as he drives the car, and soon, I get lost in dreams with the quiet groan of the air coming through the open windows luring me in.

I open my eyes when the car stops with a jerk. Looking at Mr. Drake, I observe him as he gets out of the car and walks around to my side. I watch like a helpless child as he opens the door and stands there, still frowning at me.

"Will you walk or do I have to carry you again?" he grumbles the question out, taking a look at his watch.

I don't know what's gotten into me, but I end up smiling at him and lifting my hands in the air like a child.

"Carry me up, please."

My boss's eyes widen, his eyebrows raising as he takes my posture in. His face changes color for a second, turning a shade pink, but it doesn't miss my eyes.

"Should have taken you to the hospital," he murmurs. "You must have hit that head pretty hard."

He leans down to release my seatbelt. Hooking his arms under my knees and back, he picks me up into his arms again, and I lay my head on his strong shoulder. I swear, this man is made of hot muscles I would like to lick someday.

"Apartment 250," I tell him as he shuts the door and walks towards the elevator of our apartment building.

He keeps his hold on me tight as the elevator shuts and then opens again after some time, bringing my floor into view. I point towards my apartment when he steps out and hear him grumble something again as he walks towards it.

Absent-mindedly, I pull the key out of my sling bag and open the door for him. Mr. Drake enters the apartment and walks to the couch in the hall. He doesn't speak a word as he drops me flat on it.

The moment the soft cushion greets me, I twist and turn, feeling sleepy.

"When will your friend be back?" he asks as he takes hold of my feet and starts opening my heels with gentle fingers.

His touch is warm, making my toes tingle.

"She won't be back," I whisper, eyes shutting slowly. "She got a cute guy. She's going to get banged tonight."

I don't even flush as I speak the words. I hear a soft laugh and look to find Mr. Drake chuckling to himself.

So he does laugh.

"You've no control over that tongue, do you?"

I turn to the ceiling, smiling softly and then wider.

"No," I answer as Mr. Drake gets up and starts to unbutton his suit. "What are you doing?"

I suddenly become anxious, but don't find the strength to say something more as sleep starts to get me deep. He just shakes his head as he gets his sturdy arms out of the suit.

He leans down and places the suit over my body, smiling softly.

"Have a good night, Cynthia," he whispers close to my ear. "You have a long day tomorrow."

As if my body follows his orders too, I quickly lose myself in a deep slumber.