Terms and Temptations

"If I had known I'd be sitting across from the mother of a billionaire being offered money to seduce her son, I' would have polished that d*mn résumé and stayed in bed."

She doesn't blink when she says it. Not once.

I'm sitting in a glass walled office, my palms sweating, wondering if I'm part of some twisted job interview prank or if I am about to fail an interview.

FIVE HOURS EARLIER...

It's a sunny Monday morning, and I called in sick from the office because Today I am going to the largest marketing agency in New York City: Regal Nexus Media.

I barely slept through. I constantly got up to ensure my credentials were right where I had left them. I have always wanted to be part of a big firm and once I heard they were hiring I did not hesitate to turn in a properly polished resume. It holds so much prestige that you couldn't think of that agency without thinking of money- glass floors, tailored suits, sleek offices, and people who look like walking magazine covers.

I have on my best suit, my best heels, my hair tied in the tightest bun, but here I am sitting at the reception for over an hour waiting for the receptionist to attend to me.

I stand up after about thirty minutes when I notice she has just attended to someone who just walked in not long ago. I take angry strides to her desk, and I catch a glimpse of her hurriedly sliding a piece of paper into her desk drawer as I approach. Looks like my resume.

"Oh, Miss Camila, sorry to have kept you waiting. I have been forced to inform you that the position is no longer available."

"What?" My voice wavers with disbelief. "Then why keep me waiting all this time? You knew from the minute I walked in that I wasn't getting the job. So why?"

She tilts her head, still smiling. "We only hire qualified candidates here. Ciao."

Bitch. I mutter under my breath as I walk toward the exit, suddenly sweating despite the blasting air conditioners. My throat tightens. I keep my steps steady, refusing to cry. Not here. Not in front of her.

"Excuse me," a deep voice calls out.

I turn around to see a hefty man in a black suit, walking towards me.

"I am not really in a good mood right now as you can see sir," I say in frustration.

"Madame, would you like to have a word with me, if you don't mind"

"Madame?? Who is Madame?"

I follow the direction of his gaze.

Across the company hall, I spot her.. a woman who carries herself with quiet elegance. Everything about her, from her perfectly tailored outfit to the way she's holding her designer bag, speaks of wealth and class. She didn't need to say much; her presence alone demanded attention. There was grace in her every movement, a calm confidence in her eyes. She is the kind of woman who has seen the world, raised a billionaire, and still carries herself like royalty without trying too hard, she is looking at me.

Skeptical at first I look down at my outfit, not sure if I should approach her, I suddenly feel small standing in that hall. I swallow and follow behind him.

"Hello dear" I couldn't help but notice you from across. You look quite stunning".

Me? Stunning? . "Thank you," I said avoiding eye contact.

"I am Isabella Montclair," she says with an outstretched arm, " my son owns this fine establishment," she says looking around. "May I have a word?"

My eyes enlarge in shock, son?

"I am Camila Duarte," I say reaching out to take the handshake. "I would be glad too"

"Follow me then"

We reach the tenth floor. I find out later that the man who stopped me earlier is a bodyguard. The office we enter is massive flooded with natural light, cool, elegant, and filled with the kind of furniture I have only seen in magazines.

She dismisses the bodyguard with a nod and gestures for me to sit. The chair is impossibly soft.

"Would you like tea?"

"No, thank you," I say getting more uncomfortable with each passing unit and wanting to hear what she has to say, and just leave.

"Okay, that's fine, time is of the essence so I would just get straight to the point. I couldn't help but overhear your little exchange with the receptionist and I could see you were really upset... meaning this job position really means a lot to you, am I right?"

"Yes," I nod my head in affirmation unsure of where this is going.

"I am sure you would also be looking for a position like that in such a fine establishment so you could boost your finances?" she arches a brow. She looks too calm.

"Yes," I nod again.

She studies me for a moment, her eyes calm but unreadable. She taps a manicured nail against the armrest of her chair, as if weighing her words carefully.

"You remind me of someone," she finally says.

I shift uncomfortably in my seat. "Oh?"

She nods, without shifting her gaze. "A girl I once knew. Ambitious. Smart. Hungry for something bigger." A pause.

"But the world is not kind to girls like us, is it?"

I say nothing.

She leans forward in her seat. "I have a proposal for you"

The air in the room thickens. I shift in my seat, my gaze still fixed on her.

She reaches for a framed photo on the table in front of her and turns it toward me. A man late twenties, sharp jawline, piercing eyes, every bit as expensive-looking as this office.

"My son," she says.

I glance back at her, unsure.

"What about him?"

She tilts her head, and her face is completely expressionless.

"I want you to make him fall in love with you, no strings attached, and in return, while you are at it I would offer you any position here. With very wholesome pay, when it's done, you get a five-thousand-dollar check to disappear from his life, poof" she says that with a snap of her finger.

A nervous laugh escapes me. "You're joking."

Her eyes don't waver. "I'm not."

I stand up slowly, smoothing my skirt. "Oh well, madame, " I say it with the same accent as the bodyguard

"I am afraid you picked the wrong lady. Sorry to have wasted your time, you wouldn't be hearing a word of this outside, may I?"

"Wait" she makes to stand up, hurriedly but gracefully. "Take this, you have enough time to think about it, you wouldn't want it to be too long anyway, time is money"

I stare at the business card she's holding out to me and take it with shaky hands.

"May I?"

She directs her hands towards the door in approval

I walk out, my steps quicker than before, my head held high but inside, my thoughts are spiraling.

As soon as I step into the cool air outside, I exhale sharply, gripping the card tighter than I realize.

What the hell just happened?

I glance down at the white card, the name Isabella Montclair boldly written in gold, her number printed neatly beneath it. The temptation to rip it in half is strong, but my fingers refuse to obey.

I hail a cab and head home, grateful to put this madness behind me.

So I thought.

"The offer was still on the table, ten thousand dollars and a job. All I had to do was make Sinclair Montclair fall in love with me.

I said no.

Now my sister is dying.

And I think I'm about to say yes."

Sitting in my little corner of the office, where I worked as a data entry clerk with the lowest pay in a small town in NYC, I couldn't stop thinking of how stupid I must have been to refuse such an offer.

I peek from my screen and see Mike approaching, the only person I always look forward to seeing every day.

Ben was in love with me and I knew it, he had told me several times, he had done so many things for me that would have made any normal girl fall right into his arms, but he lacked the excitement I needed.

He was comfortable in his little office with little pay, he never talked about dreams and I guess he just wasn't my type, but of course I was going to enjoy whatever attention I was getting.

"Heyyy cammyyy" cammy, that's what he calls me. "You look stunning, feeling any better?"

"Yes yes I am, thank you"

"I got you something," he said bringing out a small case from his bag.

"Oh, Mike, you are so sweet"

"It's for tonight"

"Tonight?, I thought-" just then my phone rings.

Camil, it's your sister. She's relapsed. She's in the hospital." I get up my chest heaving. A knot in my throat.

"Camil, is everything okay??"

I swoop up everything I can from my desk into my bag with trembling hands.

"Camil, what's wrong"

"My sister" is all I could mutter as I dashed out of the office.

God please, are the only words that come to mind as I stand by the curb, trying to hail a cab.

Not again.

----------------------

I dash through the hospital doors, "Where is she?" I ask the uncanny nurse.

"She's in the ICU" a look of worry plastered on her face.

I don't need anyone to show me the way, I have been there more times than I can remember. Pushing past doctors, nurses, and patients, the smell from the hospital feels intoxicating, bringing back terrible memories. I didn't think I would be doing this again. Feels like deja vu.

There she is. "Rose!!!"

I surge forward, but a nurse steps in front of me. "She needs to rest. She just had a relapse and will need to start chemotherapy immediately.

Deposits will have to be made."

"Yes yes, anything. I just want her to be fine" tears welling in my eyes.

"She looks so frail, so pale"

She was in her freshman year of college when she was first diagnosed with leukemia, it was like a blow to our chest, my mom having to work single-handedly to raise us was livid. The bills kept pulling up, chemo was so expensive. I had to juggle school and two jobs, and we had to be there for Rose emotionally as well. It was a terrible sight. We scaled through.

No one was happier than my mother when she finally rang the bell as a cancer survivor, we had been told there was a possibility of a relapse but not so soon.

I will eventually have to inform mom, she is all the way in Texas, and she would be worried sick.

I rush to make a first deposit for treatment,

Staring at the debt I know I can't keep up.

Just as I am trying to figure out the next move, a pop-up notification appears.

Mike: Is there any way I can help?

I ignore it. My pride flares...stupid, unnecessary pride. But I can't take money from someone who wants more than I'm willing to give."

I call mom instead. At the first ring, she answers.

Mom."

Silence. Then a shaky inhale, as if she had been expecting this call.

"I will be there by tomorrow"

My hands shake as I constantly refresh my bank app, praying the numbers will somehow change. They don't.

I look up and there is the nurse, walking towards me. "Ma'am, we need the full deposit before we can proceed."

I swallow hard. "How long do I have?"

She hesitates. "Hours."

My phone vibrates.

Mike: Camil, let me help.

I stare at the message, my pride would never allow me to accept help from Ben.

Then I hear it.

Beeping sounds.

A nurse's sharp voice cuts through the room. "She's crashing!"

I turn just in time to see doctors rushing toward Rose's bed.

I run toward her, but hands catch me.

"Stay back, please! We have everything under control!" A young doctor, covered from head to toe in scrubs, blocks my path.

Everything under control? Then why does it sound like she is dying?

I stand outside the ICU, heart pounding, body shaking, and I am literally struggling to breathe. My chest feels congested. I feel helpless.

I fumble for my phone, my hands trying to steady my phone as I hover over Ben's name. I need someone.

Then I remember the card.

I gulp, my fingers curling around it. Isabella Montclair.

I inhale and I make the call.

Madame~

The call had come as a surprise. She had sounded desperate, worried even. I wouldn't bother about that.

Sinclair would be furious if he found out what I am about to do. But who would tell him?

I am running out of time. I need to stay alive long enough to see someone take over his lineage. I have never been in support of the reckless life he lives. I needed him to settle down.

Why did I choose her? I don't know.

But when I saw her that day across the hall, soft curves, accentuated hips, a woman in every sense of the word, I knew. She had to be the one.

"We're here, ma'am," my driver announces, pulling me from my thoughts.

We had agreed to meet at a small coffee shop. I wanted it tomorrow, but she was in a hurry. Who wouldn't be, for an offer like this?

I step out of the car and spot her immediately. Seated, tense, waiting.

She made to stand, but I raised a hand. Stay seated.

I lower myself into the chair across from her and say nothing. I wait.

Her lips part, voice steady but urgent.

"Mrs. Montclair, I'm sorry for how sudden this is, I've considered your offer, and I accept it..."

Her gaze constantly moves to her phone on the table and back. "But only on one condition," she says.

A condition? Interesting. I am not one to receive conditions. I am always the one who sets them.

I fold my hands in my lap, tilting my head. "Which is?"

She holds my gaze. Not moved.

"I want my first deposit. Right now."

"Fine. That's not a problem." I lean back slightly, studying her. "But how do I know you won't take the money and disappear?"

She doesn't hesitate. "Ma'am, you and I both know I have nowhere to run. I just....need a little for something urgent. I'll start as soon as you need me to."

She's telling the truth, I can see it in her posture, the slight tension in her hands as she drums them against the table.

But there's something else. I can't quite place it.

"You start tomorrow."

A flinch. Barely noticeable, but I catch it.

"Is that a problem?"

She exhales, choosing her words. "I just need a little more time to take care of things at my current job."

"How long?"

"Five days." She bites her lower lip.

I nod. "Five days, then."

I gesture at Olaf, my bodyguard and companion.

The transfer is done before she can second-guess her decision.

As I stand to leave, I do something unexpected.

I place my hand over hers. Just for a moment.

"Thank you," I say

-----------------------

Seated in my personal library, sifting through books, I replay today's events. It all happened so fast, it almost felt like a dream.

I rise from my chair and walk over the balcony. The cool evening air wraps around me as I lean against the railing.

I should feel fulfilled.

What didn't we have? A private jet, a luxury suite, a world without limits. Chefs, chauffeurs, anything at our beck and call. And yet, I feel alone.

After twenty-five years of marriage, I walked away. I could never conceive again after Sinclair. I was termed what you would call barren. Who would want a woman like me?

Sinclair is nearly thirty-five now. Hardened by life far too early. My son, the only piece of me that remained. I am proud of him, his first house, his first car, then I stopped counting.

I hope I made the right choice.

"Mum, how are you?"

I turn, finding Sinclair in the doorway. Broad-shouldered and strong, he has had his fair share of the gym, always composed. My safe space.

"I am fine. Just thinking."

"About?" He smirks. "You are always thinking, though."

I give a slow smile then I blurt out "When are you getting married?"

"Ugh Mum, " he says, his shoulders dropping "I've told you to stop bringing this up. One of these days, I swear, I'll start avoiding you whenever I see you." He says running a hand through his silky hair.

I ignore his protest. "I hired a new personal secretary for you," I say quickly.

His brows draw together. A brief wave of anger flashes across his face.

"And why would you do that?" His voice is sharp now.

"Well...."

"I have told you to stay out of my affairs. I am not a child anymore."

I am looking directly at him, his gaze fixed on mine "You'll like this one, I promise."

His jaw tenses up. "Mum, what are you up to?"

I step closer, adjusting his collar

"Nothing, my son." I smile "You should know by now that everything I do is always in your best interest."

"mu...."

"I'm a bit hungry. We should eat out tonight." I say trying to change the subject.

He studies me for a moment with narrowed eyes.

"Sure," he says, not quite convinced.

But the look in his eyes tells me he already suspects I'm hiding something.

"She is fire and steel, unbreakable, unstoppable. A storm in human form, she does not wait for permission; she carves her own path, fearless and unapologetic."

Rose is stable now, I spent the night at the hospital, after having sent mom home. She was already tired from her trip here, I didn't want another health crisis.

I am sitting across the table from Mike, at the hospital's food court. He had rushed in early this morning as soon as I informed him where I was.

Bringing with him delicacies, I was famished. He watched me eat.

"You look so tired, you should get some rest"

" I will, I will, right after I see Rose and I am sure she's fine"

He takes my hand in his "You are a strong woman, I just want you to know, I am always here when you need me for anything"

I take a deep breath not knowing how to start the conversation.

"I am quitting my job at the firm" I blurt out.

He retracts his hand "Why?"

I shrug, trying to seem unconcerned "Nothing, I got a job with better pay"

"Where?"

"The nexus media"

His eyes enlarge in shock "And you didn't think it appropriate to tell me that you were at least looking for a job"

"It all happened so fast"

"You don't care about me"

I look up from my meal "What?"

"If you cared about me, you wouldn't just leave without telling me, you wouldn't involve me in your plans, it's like I am forcing things"

"Excuse me?" I say anger welling up in me. "Don't even start to act like the victim here, your sister isn't the one lying in a hospital bed, you are so lax and comfortable because you do not have responsibilities, I am not leaving the state, I am just changing my job"

"You are right, I don't have responsibilities, how would you know if I do when you have never bothered to know anything about me, you turn me down every chance you get and you can never be open about your feelings, do you like me Camil? I want to know"

Silence.

"This is not the time for this, please Ben. There are other pressing issues right now" I say trying to end the conversation.

"I thought as much" he pushes his chair back and walks away.

I sit there watching him leave, observing how his muscles flex as he walks, composed and arranged. I don't call out to him.

I check for Rose luckily she's up.

"Hey girl" I try to sound as cheerful as ever saw I sit at the edge of the bed.

"Hey," she says with a smile

"How are you feeling" I reach out for her, it feels so small, so fragile.

"I feel better, I really don't want you all worrying about me"

"If we don't worry about you who should we then worry about"

"Mom didn't leave till midnight yesterday, really worried about her"

"Mom would be fine, we all would, just get better for us pleaseee, your chemo has started, another hair loss"

"At least I get to save money on shampoo" she chuckles.

I smile, she has accepted things as they were, a coping mechanism. We talked about school, the future every other everything else to get our minds off the present situation.

But deep down, I can't ignore the dread curling in my stomach.

I stop by the office to break the news to my boss and clear my desk.

He barely blinks. "Not surprising," he says, scribbling something on a form. "People turning in resignations? Happens every day."

I really didn't have much to pack anyway, I never really settled in here, I always seemed out of place.

"Oh, Camila, you'll be missed," comes a voice I recognize all too well.

Jessica. The bane of my existence.

I glance up. "Wow, that's surprising. You never seemed particularly fond of me."

She laughs. "You make me sound like a terrible person. Wish you the best of luck, though."

"Ditto." I roll my eyes as she sashays away, most definitely relieved that I am finally gone.

Just then, my phone buzzes in my pocket.

Isabella Montclair: Five days, Miss Duarte. No excuses.

I let out a deep breath.

Stepping out of the firm, I take a moment to enjoy the stale air. I relax a little as the cool breeze sweeps over me, I stand there for a while, a temporary relief. My life is about to change that is for sure.

I do a little sign of the cross on my chest.

"Camil! Camil, wait!"

I turn to see Mike rushing toward me, he seemed tensed.

"I'm sorry," he blurts out. "That was selfish of me. I should have known better. I wasn't thinking. I was just worried about you. I don't want us to be on bad terms, I miss you"

"It's fine, Mike." I shift my bag higher on my shoulder. "We'll talk some other time."

Silence.

"Can I get a hug?" Almost a whisper I could barely hear. His arms are outstretched.

I hesitate. My hands are full, but I don't move away when he wraps his arms around me. I don't hug him back, but I allow myself to relax against him.

I needed that.

Even if I wouldn't admit it.

Sinclair~

Her moans through the walls of my office, but I don't care enough to listen. One hand grips the edge of the desk behind her, the other tangled in her hair as I thrust into her with no emotion. Just release.

Her nails dig into my back as she whispers something about seeing me again. I don't respond.

Moments later, I zip up my trousers, already disinterested. I walk over to the table, grab my wallet, and pull out a few crisp bills. "Here," I say flatly, tossing the money toward her without meeting her eyes. "You know the way out."

She blinks, her lips parting slightly as if to speak, but the look in my eyes shuts her up. She gathers her clothes in silence and hurries out.

These things are meant to make me feel better but they never do.

I adjust the cuffs of my sleeve, brush my fingers through my hair, and finally glance at the time 9:30 PM.

Papers are still scattered across the table from a chaotic afternoon. We lost a deal that would've pulled in six figures. My auditor broke the news like he was offering a d*mn weather update.

I was searching for the paperwork, trying to see what went wrong. I had to call in a plump woman to ease my tensed spirit.

I grab my coat and phone, no one has called, not even Mother.

I pack up and leave.

Downstairs it's raining heavily. I don't fancy having a personal chauffeur so no one was going to bring my car to the entrance. One of those days I wish I had hired one. I skip to my car taking long strides.

Once I settle into the driver's seat, I go through my messages.

Ann: Last night was fun, hoping to see you some other time.

Mary: Hey, you didn't get back to me, baby

Mum: Been trying to reach you, hope you are good.

Then some others that are work-related. I start my engine. Just then I notice a figure, an umbrella over their head right in front of my car, wearing a black coat. Searching for something in their bag.

Oh great, a woman. I horn.

No acknowledgement.

I horn again. She glares at me, flashes a well-manicured middle finger in my direction, and walks away.

Women! I scoff.