I have been working as Mr. Stevens' assistant for almost two weeks now, and his behavior has not changed since day one. He constantly gives me instructions from morning to night, so that I hardly have time to shower in the evening. I'm reaching my limits. It's just 10 p.m. and it's a miracle that I'm still awake and even managed to take a shower. At the moment I'm preparing an omelette with peppers, zucchini and mushrooms. Of course I'm using two eggs for this. Since I haven't eaten anything today, I need absolute peace and quiet to fully enjoy the meal. Kate is, of course, in the club. As soon as my omelette is ready, I sit down on the green couch and turn on the TV. Just as I'm about to bite into my omelette, my phone vibrates and shows an email from Mr. Stevens.
From Daniel Stevens
Subject: Work
Date: August 9, 2017, 10:15 PM
To: Miss Morgan
Miss Morgan, I would appreciate it if you could send me the documents from Peterson. Could you please tell me why I haven't received them yet?
Daniel Stevens
CEO, Stevens International GmbH.
Why can't this person just leave me alone? I put my omelet aside and respond to his message.
From: Paige Morgan
Subject: Documents
Date: August 9, 2017, 10:17 PM
To: Mr. Stevens
Mr. Stevens, I will send you the required documents as soon as possible. Is there anything else I can help you with?
Paige
I take a deep breath and finally eat my now cold omelet. Great, I can't even manage that. It should be served warm. My phone vibrates again - a new email from Mr. Stevens.
From: Mr. Stevens
Subject: Work
Date: August 9, 2017, 10:19 p.m.
To: Miss Morgan
I would like to request that the meeting room be prepared for tomorrow. That would be all I need.
Daniel Stevens
CEO, Stevens International GmbH.
In the early hours of the morning, I was almost the first to arrive at the office. I prepared the meeting room: his coffee was already waiting on the glass desk, and the documents were neatly sorted next to it. Now I'm standing here in front of the building, next to Jack and Miles, the two tastefully dressed security guards, and waiting for him to arrive. The weather this morning is not particularly inviting, rather cool. I'm wearing my light jeans with a white blouse and a black blazer - and it's summer! After about five minutes, a silver Porsche 992 rolls up and Mr. Stevens gets out. Wow, my breath takes my breath away! A tingling sensation runs through my body. He is wearing a dark blue suit, a white tie and shiny black patent leather shoes. He moves with the elegance of a cobra in his well-trained frame.
I can't deny it that I am blushing again. "Good morning, Mr. Stevens. Here is your daily schedule: a meeting at nine o'clock, followed by three phone calls - one with the Chamber of Agriculture, the second about metal mining and the last call is for your mother." Yes, that's me, Paige Morgan, chatting to him right now. Is that really possible? I follow him as usual and his strong shoulders are visible behind him. When we get to the elevator, we have to wait a moment. A fleeting glance catches the moment when he slowly runs his hand through his curly black hair. Wait a minute, is the hair curly? He doesn't seem to have styled it today; it's naturally wavy.
In the elevator, I stand, as usual, on the right-hand side as the doors open gracefully and we enter the room. The receptionist from the foyer jumps up immediately, and with her long legs I watch him stride gracefully down the hall to his office door. After he goes in, I sit down at my desk and sift through the outstanding documents.
About two hours pass while I am completely absorbed in my work and barely notice anything. "Morgan!" I am surprised when Mr. Stevens suddenly calls out. I look up and look straight into his flawless face. "Come with me." Confused, I follow him. "Don't forget your shoulder bag!" he points out. I quickly run back to get it. "Mr. Stevens, where are you taking us?" "Miss Morgan, your curiosity is really noticeable." What does that mean? Since when has he spoken to me so politely, without a scolding or condescending tone? It's strange; I trot behind him like a little schoolgirl. We take the elevator and he presses the button for the ground floor. Why are we going down? What is he up to? My head is full of questions. In the entrance area I look around; everyone is watching us, although most of them probably only have one eye on him. The atmosphere is remarkably strange. We leave the building and head towards his silver Porsche. He walks around the vehicle and opens it with the remote control; two lights flash briefly. I stand in front of the car, petrified.
He opens the door and gets in. What should I do now? Why does he just sit in? The passenger side window goes down. "Miss Morgan, please don't get in!" "Excuse me, sir?" I answer, surprised. "Miss Morgan, please come in!" Totally confused, I open the door and sit down. Wow, the interior of the car looks incredibly modern and stylish. The black leather seats fit perfectly into the interior, the center console shines in deep black and the dashboard is enhanced by a modern navigation system. A generous glass sunroof stretches out above me. Completely thrilled, I sit in the deep seats next to him like an excited schoolgirl. "Miss Morgan, please fasten your seatbelt." "Oh yes, of course, sir, but where are we going now?" I ask quietly. "I would like to go to a café with you," he says, and my eyes light up. Did he really just say that he wanted to go to a café with me? Why, Mr. Stevens? Did something go wrong? Did I get fired? I ask shyly. "Miss Morgan, why do you think that? Can't I just go and have a coffee with you?" His eyes meet mine and my heart starts beating wildly. I feel myself blushing - oh no, not again! Why does he have such a strong influence on me that I blush? My gaze wanders to the driver's door. Hard to believe: I'm actually sitting next to him in the car.
My stomach is tingling, what is going on here? When he finally starts the engine and drives off, I can hardly take my eyes off him. He looks simply stunning, his impressive hand resting casually on the center console. After a few minutes he gets a call, presses a button on the steering wheel and answers the call. His voice sounds different again. "Mr. Stevens, the finance department needs your authorization." "Please send me an email." "Of course, sir." I sit patiently without saying a word. He gets three more calls; it seems as though he is always busy. Lost in thought, I wonder if a car ride wouldn't be more pleasant with some music. He never seems to listen to the radio or music; I wonder what he is really like. Is he treating me like this on purpose - or does he perhaps have a personality disorder? Sometimes the situation is extremely uncomfortable, but today it is very different. I lean my head against the window and take in the impressions of my surroundings.
Barely twenty minutes later, he drives into an underground car park. With impressive precision, he maneuvers his car into the tight parking space. The engine stops and he opens the door. I unbuckle my seat belt and get out too. What a strange day for him: Suddenly he's even trying to act like a gentleman. I'm irritated by his change, thank you, Mr. Stevens. I slowly continue on my way while he waits at an elevator on the left. He presses the elevator button and we have to wait a moment before the doors open. Here, too, he lets me go first. The elevator takes us to the second floor. When the doors open with a slight jolt, he is the first to step out. Without asking a question, I walk right next to him.
We seem to be in some kind of hotel lobby with a small café built into it. We stop at a counter stocked with various delicacies. "Please, Miss Morgan, choose something!" he says. I answer completely unsure: "A cappuccino would be enough." "I thought so," he replies and orders a black coffee, a cappuccino and a pistachio muffin with creamy filling. "Have a seat," he says, pointing to a free table. I am so surprised by his behavior that I am speechless for a moment. He puts our orders in front of me and sits down opposite me. "Here, a cappuccino for you," he says kindly and hands me the cup. "Thank you very much!" Well, Miss Morgan, I'll get straight to the point: my gut feeling was right - he is being friendly just because he wants something from me. "What's up, Mr. Stevens?" I ask curiously as he takes a bite of his muffin and I sip my cappuccino without swallowing it straight away. "I want you to be my," "girlfriend." With these words he shocks me so much that I spit out my cappuccino, and it lands on his blue suit.
Oh no, I didn't mean that. "Mr. Stevens, I think you made a mistake," I reply, astonished. He doesn't even mention the mistake. Instead, he bites into his muffin, unmoved. "No, Miss Morgan, I certainly didn't," he replies. "I mean exactly what I say." As I blush, I am completely beside myself. "However, I must add that you are not actually my girlfriend in the true sense of the word, but only in appearance." I understand what he means. On the one hand I am relieved, on the other hand hurt. "Sir, I... I am speechless. Could you perhaps explain this in more detail?" "Miss Morgan, I would like to hire you as my fake girlfriend." "Of course there will be a contract and I will pay you well for it." For the record, "There will be an agreement between the two of us." I am not urging you to sign the contract immediately; you may find it an additional burden. Perhaps it will help you to understand the whole thing better. Surprised by his offer, I sip my coffee again so as not to say anything. Miss Morgan, would you be so kind as to give me your opinion? What could I do, not to mention how to react? I sit across from him, completely at a loss, and his piercing gaze seems to pierce me.