Chapter 3 - Emily

EMILY

The guy in front of her was acting completely incomprehensible. Emily didn't know if he was playing a cruel joke on her or if she could trust him. As she allowed the stranger to drag her somewhere, she risked a glance at the card he had pressed into her hand.

'Oliver Daron' was written on it, and she blinked her eyes a few times. But the name didn't change. This was absolutely impossible! Now she believed more than ever that the whole thing was a trap. He couldn't possibly be called Daron.

"Wait," she shouted, and now she pushed hard against him. "Wait a minute! This is all a bad joke, isn't it? Who in our company sent you after me?"

He looked at her so confused that she briefly wondered if she was wrong. He shook his head and began, "We don't have much time if you want to go on a date with..."

"You don't have much time," she cut him off, jerking her arm away from him. "I actually have plenty of time. I'm not falling for this. Oliver Daron, what an unimaginative name. My colleagues couldn't think of anything better. And then to use Alexander Fitzpatrick of all people for such a stupid prank. Maybe I should send him an incognito message about what's going on in his company."

Emily turned abruptly and was about to leave when she felt that firm grip on her elbow again.

"I don't know what you have against my name or how you know Mr. Fitzpatrick's company. But I do know this: he promised to announce his new girlfriend to the press in..." Why did the guy keep checking his watch? Did he think time was going faster or slower? "...twenty-one minutes. Damn it! We're not going to make it, we're not going to make it! I have to call Alexander and tell him that Amelie got sick and her replacement..."

"Hey!" Emily complained as he looked at her emphatically. The guy was just impossible. He acted as if he was serious and it was her fault if the billionaire stood there without a suitable companion.

"...and her replacement," he continued, as if she hadn't interrupted him again, "doesn't feel like posing in front of the camera with him and going on a nice shopping trip."

Now he actually took out his smartphone and punched in a number. As he did so, he asked, "What's your name, anyway?"

Emily looked at him angrily. How dare he be so rude and continue with his show? Even though she had just told him to his face that she saw through his game. "Emily - Saron." She stressed her last name. "And I've been working in accounting at Fitzpatrick Designs for five years," she added. Now he should finally see the light. But he didn't respond to the revelation. Instead, he was talking to someone on the phone.

"Yes, hi Alexander, it's Oliver. I'm sorry, there's a problem with your new girlfriend. She just called me and said she's sick. I can't find someone else on such short notice..."

Although Emily wasn't really the rebellious type, she couldn't help herself. She snatched the smartphone out of his hand and said in a sweet voice: "Hello, Alexander, this is your sweetheart Amelie. Dear Oliver was only joking. But we really have a little problem. I was at the gym a little too long and am... well, a little sweaty and underdressed. What are we going to do?"

With raised eyebrows, she grinned at this supposed Oliver Daron. In a moment she would know which of her colleagues was playing this trick on her, if he didn't hang up first. But why didn't the man in front of her look shocked, but smiled contentedly?

"Hello, Amelie, I'm glad you're not sick," a voice sounded from the smartphone.

Emily's grin faded. It only took a few seconds for her to realize that the voice clearly belonged to her boss, Alexander Fitzpatrick. So Oliver Daron hadn't lied to her, and the similarity in names - Saron and Daron - was pure coincidence. She let go of the receiver and the man in front of her took the smartphone from her.

"Sorry, Alexander, Amelie is sometimes a little too impulsive. She didn't want to believe me when I said I was really calling you."

While Oliver confidently took over the conversation again, he took Emily's arm and led her to the nearest beauty salon. She didn't really notice what was happening. She was too upset by the thought that she had pretended on the phone to her boss, who had never even looked at her, that she was his booked escort!

"But that's not possible," she exclaimed in dismay. "He's my boss. I can't play his girlfriend. If my colleagues see photos of me, they'll know immediately that I'm not Amelie, and they'll definitely tell the press. Besides, it could cost me my job. A little accountant throws herself at her boss and pretends to be someone else! It just doesn't work."

"Well, we're here. Now shut up for ten minutes so that you can at least be repaired in the basics."

Oliver pushed her into a chair. Two beauticians stood to her right and left and began discussing her. The whole thing took less than a minute. Her hair tie was already pulled out and the procedure began.

"Ouch," Emily cried out indignantly, more from shock than pain. "Give me my hair tie. I still need it.

The beautician sighed and pressed the blue ribbon into her hand, then brushed her hair with practiced skill while the other beautician attacked her from the front.

"Close your eyes."

"But..."

"You do exactly as the ladies tell you!" Oliver ordered in a stern voice. "If you go straight to the rendezvous point, you'll be targeted by photographers. Believe me, you'll be grateful for any touch-ups to your face when you see those pictures in the paper."

Although Emily didn't like it, she obeyed. In doing so, she realized that she had been very bold. Normally, she would have cowered when a tall man in a fancy suit stared down at her. But with Oliver Daron, she had protested in an almost impertinent manner. Was it the humiliating treatment at the hands of the fitness trainer? She didn't know. What she did know was that this six-foot-two man worked for an agency that matched women with men. Emily couldn't imagine the extremely wealthy owner of Fitzpatrick Designs needing such a thing. At company parties, he had always seemed well-balanced and content. But really, she didn't know much about him. He was her boss, after all. She had never been interested in his personal life.

"Open your eyes and keep them open."

Emily opened her eyes and stared straight ahead. What were the women doing? Was she getting her eyelashes done? She never wore makeup. Ever! She didn't even have emergency makeup at home. The only thing in her purse that she didn't have with her because she was using her gym bag was a lip balm in case she got dry lips.

"Open your mouth slightly."

She did that automatically. She didn't understand why the beautician needed her to open her mouth slightly. When she felt something cool on her lips, she realized. Of course, not only the outer edge should be painted, but the whole mouth. Unconsciously, her thoughts turned to Alexander Fitzpatrick's lips. Would he expect her to let him kiss her? Or would holding hands be enough for him? These frivolous thoughts made her stomach tingle. She had to stop them immediately. She was just a small, inconspicuous accountant - he was the millionaire furniture designer. Kissing was definitely not part of an accounting transaction.

"Close your eyes."

What was she doing? Why close her eyes again? And what was the beautician doing behind her? Nervously, Emily shifted in her chair.

"Don't move!" Both beauticians scolded her at the same time.

Emily sighed. To keep her mind from drifting off into uncharted territory, she began adding up numbers. Numbers made her feel safe. She didn't want to think about the meeting afterwards. It could only go wrong.