“Going to intercept him!” Emily called back.
She found Michael, looking rather disheveled, outside a high-end restaurant near Boston’s Financial District, known for its power lunches. “Hand over the medicine,” she demanded, extending her hand.
Michael looked at her, surprised. “What are you doing here? How did you track me down?”
“I did my research,” Emily said, confidently. “I found out our collaboration partner is Mr. Davis from Celestial Group. This is his favorite restaurant. If we’re discussing cooperation, he’ll definitely choose this place.” She pushed a small bottle into his hand. “What you need now is a hangover cure.”
Michael eyed her suspiciously. “What’s your motive for approaching me?”
“I just want to prove I can be a competent assistant,” Emily stated, her resolve firm. “Ryan Patel was the one who messed up. Why fire me instead?”
Michael scoffed. “I don’t explain things to idiots.”
Suddenly, Emily stumbled, bumping into Michael and spilling a bit of the hangover cure on his immaculate suit. “You!” she gasped, mortified. “Emily Carter! I’m sorry! That wasn’t intentional! Let me clean that for you.”
As she frantically dabbed at his suit, Sophia arrived, a triumphant look on her face. “Mr. Thompson, maybe I should leave now.”
“Taylor Green! Get back here!” Michael commanded, his eyes fixed on Emily.
Emily, still trying to clean the spill, found herself in an awkward position on Michael’s lap. “Mr. Thompson! How long will you stay on my lap?”
“I slipped!” she protested, trying to move. “Move!” Michael said, not unkindly.
“I genuinely want to know why,” Emily insisted, looking up at him.
Michael sighed. “Fine. I’ll tell you why. As an assistant, you didn’t notice the documents were swapped. Not only are you careless, you lack basic responsibility.”
“Dare to make a bet with me,” Emily challenged, meeting his gaze. “Give me one month. If I can prove myself as a competent assistant, let me stay and work in the design department.”
Just then, his grandfather’s voice, a memory from the phone call, echoed in his mind. It’s you? That Emily Carter girl. Kind and capable. I see potential in her.
Michael looked at Emily, a ghost of a smile touching his lips. “Fine. Out of respect for Grandpa, I’ll give her another chance. Okay. You’ve got one month. And if you fail…”
“I’ll pay you six months’ salary!” Emily interjected, surprising him.
“Fine,” Michael agreed, then held out his hand. “Give me the deposit.”
Emily pulled out her credit card. Michael glanced at it. Why does this card look familiar? he wondered.
“I was just joking,” Emily said, seeing his expression. “Your petty cash means nothing to me.” She stood up, renewed determination in her eyes. “One month. Succeed and stay. Fail and get lost.”
“I’ll start work tomorrow!” she declared, turning to leave.
“Idiot,” Michael muttered, a small smile playing on his lips. “See you tomorrow.”
The next morning, Emily walked into the Thompson Enterprises office, a new spring in her step. “Morning, Sophia!” she chirped.
“Good morning, Sophia!” echoed another colleague.
“Morning, Sister Sophia,” a new hire said, slightly intimidated.
Sophia glared at Emily. “Emily Carter! Weren’t you fired by Mr. Thompson?”
“Mr. Thompson’s got a sharp eye for talent,” Emily replied, a playful glint in her eyes. “He kept me again. How’s that? Annoyed?”
Sophia’s jaw tightened. “You… Michael Thompson’s making exceptions for her again!” she seethed to a nearby colleague. Still no leads on the mystery wife. Another rival joins the fray.
“Sophia, I’ve got tissues here,” the colleague offered, sensing her distress.
“Get lost!” Sophia snapped.
Later, Emily approached Michael’s office with a freshly brewed cup. “Mr. Thompson, your coffee, Mr. Thompson. No milk, sugar, or ice, right?”
“Leave it there,” Michael said, not looking up from his computer.
“Something else?” Emily asked, lingering. “Won’t you try it?”
“Get out,” Michael replied, his voice firm.
Emily sighed and left. Michael, however, took a sip. Oh. Not bad at all.
Sophia, ever observant, watched the interaction. “What do you think you’re doing, Emily Carter? Don’t tell me you’re Mr. Thompson’s mystery wife.”
“Are you insane?!” Emily exclaimed, genuinely horrified. “How could I be Mr. Thompson’s secret wife?!”
“You better not be,” Sophia warned, her eyes narrowed. “Or else I’ll…”
“You lunatic!” Emily muttered under her breath.
Just then, Emily’s phone rang. “Got it. On my way.” She rushed out.
Sophia, seeing Emily leave, immediately called Ryan. “Emily Carter! You’ve got what you wanted. Where’s the money? I asked you to investigate Michael Thompson’s secret wife, not this woman! Dig deeper!” She hung up, fuming.
Ryan, now desperate, found Sophia again. “You dare trick me, bitch? Where’s your promised return to Thompson Enterprises?”
Sophia’s eyes flashed. “Want to hit me? Come on. Aim right here.” She gestured to her face. Ryan hesitated, a coward. “Coward. Emily Carter is our common enemy. Only when she’s gone can I bring you back.”
“Emily Carter,” Ryan muttered, a dark look on his face. “What’s your next move?”
Sophia smiled. “Fine. This time I’ll make her suffer properly.”
The next day, office gossip was still in full swing. “About CEO Thompson’s divorce from his wife, what’s your take?”
“Not my business,” Emily replied, trying to focus on her work.
“Aren’t you into Mr. Thompson?” a colleague pressed. “If you like Mr. Thompson, go chase him! Stop harassing me all day.”
“If you don’t like Mr. Thompson, why keep clinging to him?” another taunted.
“I want to join the design department!” Emily burst out, frustrated. “You keep blocking me! Besides, I’m already married!”
The office went silent. “You’re married? When did this happen?!”
“It’s on my resume,” Emily said, exasperated. “So, can you please stop targeting me?”
Sophia, who had been listening, mused aloud, “Michael Thompson would never go for a married woman. I should focus on finding that mysterious lady first.” She then turned to Emily, a sly smile on her face. “Fine. By the way, you go to Redwood International to pick up Mr. Wilson.”
Redwood International? Mr. Wilson? Emily thought, puzzled.
Sophia continued, “Mr. Wilson is a key client. Treat him with care. Got it?”
“I’ll go,” Emily said, leaving immediately.
Sophia watched her go. “She’s already gone. Get ready.” She then made a call. “That’s Emily Carter. It’s her. Perfect. Leaving post during work hours. Let’s see where she’s really going.”
Emily arrived at Redwood International, a luxury hotel and convention center in Miami Beach. She found the room Sophia had indicated. “Mr. Wilson, are you awake? I’m here to pick you up.” She knocked gently.
A grunt came from inside. She tried the handle, but it was locked. “Mr. Wilson, stay back! Open the door!” she called, hearing some muffled sounds. She tried the front desk. “Get the key card at the front desk. Yes, Mr. Thompson.”
Just then, Michael Thompson appeared in the hallway, looking furious. “Emily Carter! I know you’re in there! Help!” His voice was sharp.
Emily was startled. “What’s Mr. Thompson doing here?”
Michael burst into the room, his eyes scanning Emily, who was looking flushed and disoriented. “Emily Carter, look at yourself! What kind of state is this?” He inhaled sharply. “What’s wrong with you? You smell amazing.”
Emily felt a strange heat building inside her. “Emily Carter, you… it’s so hot!”
“Emily Carter, calm down!” Michael commanded, pulling her away from the bed. “Set the AC to 60 degrees Fahrenheit!” he barked at a hotel employee who had followed him in.
“Mr. Thompson, this…” the employee stammered.
“She was probably drugged,” Michael stated, his expression grim. “I’ll take her to the hospital. Find out who was in that room!”
“Yes, Mr. Thompson,” Alex Johnson replied, who had also arrived.
Later, in a private room at a top-tier hospital in South Beach, Emily slowly opened her eyes. “You’re awake,” Michael said, sitting beside her.
“Why am I in a hospital?” Emily mumbled, her head still foggy.
“If I hadn’t brought you here, you’d have torn me apart,” Michael replied, a hint of exasperation in his voice. “Never thought you’d be so wild behind that innocent face.”
“What do you mean?” Emily asked, a blush creeping up her neck. You smell nice. Her mind reeled. What have I done? I actually forced a kiss on my boss!
Michael continued, oblivious to her internal panic. “Yesterday you swore to win our bet, then sneaked out during work to hook up with someone.”
“No!” Emily protested. “I went to pick up Mr. Wilson… Oh no, Mr. Wilson!”
Michael raised an eyebrow. “Mr. Wilson? I don’t recall any client named Mr. Wilson in our records. Nice try making up stories.”
“I’m not lying!” Emily insisted. “Then why was there a creep in the room?”
“I must have gone to the wrong room,” she realized, her memory slowly returning. “Who told you to meet Mr. Wilson?”
“Sophia.”
Michael immediately turned to Alex. “Alex Johnson, bring Sophia to the hospital.”
Sophia, who had been listening from outside the room, gasped. “What?! You incompetent idiot!” she muttered, realizing her plan had backfired. She quickly composed herself as Alex approached. “This wasn’t my fault, Miss. And Mr. Thompson wants to see you at the hospital.”
Back in Emily’s hospital room, Michael was carefully applying a cream to her face. “Mr. Thompson, the hospital is too dry. Could you pass me that?”
“Your hands are dirty,” Michael said, gently taking her hand. “Let me do it. Come here. Let me see your face.” He paused, looking at her intently. “You seem to really like this.” He was referring to the company’s new skincare product.
“Our company’s products are just that good,” Emily said, trying to diffuse the awkwardness. “Don’t think a few compliments will get you a permanent position.”
“Cheapskate,” Michael mumbled, a slight smirk on his face.
Just then, Sophia and Alex entered. “Mr. Thompson, I’ve brought them.”
Sophia, feigning innocence, asked, “Mr. Thompson, you wanted to see me?”
“Did you send Emily Carter to Redwood International Room 206?” Michael’s voice was devoid of emotion.
“Huh? I think that did happen,” Sophia stammered, trying to recall. “How come I haven’t heard that there’s a client named Mr. Wilson in our company?”
