Chapter 5 – The Unexpected Request

I was halfway through organizing a pile of files when he appeared at my desk. Golden eyes locking onto mine, sharp, unreadable, and somehow capable of making my knees feel like jelly even after a week of working with him.

“Katty,” he said, voice flat, controlled, yet somehow carrying a weight that made me stop breathing.

“Yes… sir?” I managed, trying to sound professional instead of panicked.

“I need you to accompany me tonight.”

I blinked. “Accompany… you? For…?”

“A business dinner. With clients. I want you to be my partner.”

Partner? I nearly dropped the pen I was holding. As in… sit by him, pretend to be charming, smile, look perfect… and not ruin anything? My chest tightened. This wasn’t in Katty’s notes. Katty’s advice had prepared me for office work, flustered file disasters, and surviving his golden-eyed glare—not this. Not being someone’s date for an evening full of judgmental clients.

“Uh… sir,” I stammered, my voice cracking slightly. “I… I mean… I’ll… I’ll try.”

He raised an eyebrow. That single, infuriating arch made me wish I could vanish into the floor. “Try? You’re not trying. You’re coming. Tonight. Business party. Be ready.”

“Yes… sir.”

I watched him walk away, calm, imposing, every inch the man I was supposed to charm and yet terrified of. My mind raced like a tornado. Two months. Two months pretending to be Katty. And now this… acting as his partner. I am going to die.

I collapsed into my chair, fanning my face. My phone buzzed—Katty.

Emergency. Tonight. Business party. I… I don’t know what to do.

Her reply was instant:

Relax. Smile. Stand close. Laugh lightly. Don’t spill drinks. Don’t faint. You’ve got this. Oh—and don’t get caught staring at him.

I groaned. Too late.

The next hour was chaos. I tried on three different outfits, each one making me feel more awkward than the last. One had a perfectly tailored blazer that screamed “professional,” but I felt like a mannequin. Another was a dress Katty had worn to an office dinner once—it was elegant, yes, but I had no idea how to walk in it without tripping. The third… well, it was safer but made me feel invisible.

“Catty, stop pacing,” I muttered to myself. “You’re acting like a panicked hamster.”

Then came hair and makeup. My hands shook as I tried to tame my hair into something elegant, professional… and not like a mess of chaos atop my head. I gave up halfway and just pinned it back, hoping it looked intentional. Makeup was easier, but every time I looked in the mirror, I imagined him standing behind me, judging every stray hair, every lipstick imperfection.

He probably wouldn’t even notice, I tried to convince myself. No, stop lying. He notices everything.

I practiced small talk in front of the mirror, reciting polite compliments:

“Your tie is… impressive.”

“You work very hard.”

“Sir, I… admire your… leadership.”

By the fifth repetition, I was sweating. This is not professional. This is panic dressed as charm.

At the office, things didn’t get easier. Colleagues noticed my nervous energy.

“You look… nervous,” one whispered as I passed by.

“Just… excited for the party,” I muttered, trying to sound casual.

Meanwhile, he was observing me, of course. I could feel those golden eyes on me even when I tried to act normal. I caught him once, leaning back against his desk, arms crossed, watching me organize files with careful precision. He didn’t say anything, but that look—half curiosity, half judgment, half something I couldn’t name—made my cheeks burn.

By mid-afternoon, I had nearly convinced myself that surviving the office was the easy part. The real challenge would start tonight. I had to pretend to be Katty, stand beside him, act like his partner, and charm clients I didn’t even know. And somehow… I had to do it without embarrassing myself—or him.

Then came the briefing. He called me into his office, and I nearly tripped on the way.

“Sit,” he said, voice controlled but that subtle edge that made me sit straighter.

He gestured to a folder. “Here’s the guest list. Memorize names, faces, preferences. Don’t speak unless necessary. Observe.”

I blinked. “Yes… sir.”

“And,” he continued, leaning slightly forward, “I want you close. Not intrusive. Close enough to appear natural. Smile when appropriate. Laugh lightly when necessary.”

I nodded so hard I worried my neck would crack. Close. Smile. Laugh lightly. Don’t die. Got it.

“Do not embarrass me,” he added, voice low, dangerous, yet somehow… teasing.

“Yes… sir,” I said, swallowing hard. My heart was doing gymnastics in my chest.

He stood and walked past me, his presence overwhelming. Even his back radiated authority. Two months. Two months of surviving his gaze, his tests, his… presence.

I slumped back in my chair when he left. My hands were shaking. My brain was fried. My heart… my heart was doing weird things. This is so going to be a disaster. But I can do this. I have to do this.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of preparation, panicked texts to Katty, and mental rehearsals of every possible conversation I might have tonight. By the time I left the office, I was exhausted, jittery, and mildly terrified—but also, inexplicably… excited.

Because I knew tonight wouldn’t just be another test of my acting skills. It would be… dangerous. Dangerous in ways I couldn’t name.

And maybe, just maybe, I was already starting to care.