My Dream Companion is Mr. Billionaire

Evelyne Serene, renowned for her quick wit and sharp mind, was a highly sought-after secretary. Companies clamored for her expertise, but a recent unpleasant experience forced her resignation. Her previous boss, a married man, had become increasingly inappropriate, crossing professional boundaries Evelyne wouldn't tolerate. Deciding to prioritize her well-being, she tendered her resignation and planned a well-deserved vacation.

Relaxing with a steaming cup of tea, its delicate aroma swirling around her, Evelyne received an unexpected call. It was Madam Sarah, a friend of her mother's from their social group. They often met for afternoon tea, exchanging pleasantries and gossip over fluffy scones and clotted cream. Today, however, Madam Sarah's voice held a hint of urgency that cut through the usual afternoon chatter.

"Evelyne," Madam Sarah's voice drifted through the phone, "do you know anyone looking for a secretarial position?"

Evelyne, surprised by the sudden business turn, chuckled lightly. "Actually, Madam Sarah, I just resigned. I'm planning a trip before jumping back into the workforce."

Disappointment hung heavy in the airwaves. "Oh, dear. That's a shame. My nephew is in dire need of a new secretary. The last one..." Madam Sarah fanned herself with an ornate feather fan, delicately avoiding a direct comparison. "Let's just say they weren't quite as quick-witted as you, Evelyne."

Evelyne appreciated the compliment, taking a delicate sip of her tea. Madam Sarah, with her air of refinement and expensive tastes, could be formidable. Yet, Evelyne held firm. "Thank you, Madam, for thinking of me. However, as I said, I need some time off."

Madam Sarah, however, wasn't easily dissuaded. "But Evelyne," she continued, her voice softening, "I wouldn't ask if it weren't truly urgent. My nephew needs someone reliable and discreet, someone who can handle a demanding workload."

Evelyne remained hesitant, the memory of her previous boss still fresh. "Madam, you know my stance on unprofessional behavior, especially from married men."

A sly smile played on Madam Sarah's lips as she countered, "My dear, you have nothing to worry about. My nephew is most definitely single."

Intrigued, Evelyne couldn't help but be drawn in. An unmarried, demanding employer with a desperate need for a competent secretary – it piqued her curiosity.

As if sensing her shift in interest, Madam Sarah expertly played her hand. "And," she continued, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "I've prepared a generous compensation gift to sweeten the deal."

She paused dramatically, then with a flourish, sent a tall man, who seemed like a butler scurrying to fetch a velvet jewelry box. Evelyne watched with a raised eyebrow, enjoying the theatrics. Moments later, the butler returned, presenting the box to Madam Sarah. She opened it slowly, revealing a breathtaking necklace. Strands of delicate pink pearls intertwined with dazzling red and blue gems, a piece that screamed wealth and exclusivity. It was a coveted accessory, only attainable by those of a certain social standing, something far beyond Evelyne's current means.

"Damn," Evelyne thought, a silent acknowledgment of Madam Sarah's cunning. She knew Evelyne's taste very well.

Madam Sarah, her eyes shimmering with a knowing smile, watched Evelyne's silent battle. Evelyne sighed, the weight of the situation settling on her. "Madam," she began, her voice filled with a mixture of appreciation and apprehension, "this is incredibly generous. I truly appreciate the offer, and I will..."

"Consider it?" Madam Sarah finished the sentence, her smile widening.

Evelyne smiled back, a hint of amusement flickering in her eyes. "Yes, I will consider your generous offer. However, I won't be able to clear my schedule until Monday morning." Relief washed over Madam Sarah's face. "Excellent! Now, about my nephew..." she began, launching into an enthusiastic explanation.

Evelyne held up a hand, gently interrupting. "Wait," she said. "Forgive me, Madam, but I must confess, I don't know your nephew."

A look of genuine surprise crossed Madam Sarah's face. Hadn't they spent countless afternoons together gossiping about everyone and everything? Apparently, not everyone was privy to all the details.

"My apologies, Madam," Evelyne clarified, setting her teacup down on its saucer. "I haven't had the pleasure of meeting him. And, just to be clear, is he already married?" Evelyne finished, a playful glint in her eyes.

Madam Sarah chuckled, the earlier surprise replaced by a knowing glint in her own. "Absolutely not, my dear. Not married. Now, shall we delve into the fascinating details over another pot of tea and perhaps a fresh batch of those delectable macarons you adore?"

Evelyne couldn't help but smile at the tempting offer. Madam Sarah knew exactly how to sweeten the deal. Setting the empty teacup aside, she straightened in her chair. "Another pot of tea sounds delightful, Madam," she conceded. "And perhaps, after hearing about your nephew, I can decide if the macarons are truly worth the additional consideration."

Madam Sarah clapped her hands in delight. "Excellent! I knew you wouldn't disappoint, Evelyne. Now, buckle up, my dear. You're in for quite a story." Her eyes are shining like she finally gets a grip on this situation, like the way of conversation has turned offer to the way that she wants.

..........

Ashford Rowan slammed the conference room door with a force that rattled the glass panels. The echo mirrored the storm brewing within him. He'd just secured the Rowan Corp. a coveted collaboration with Sterling Industries – a victory his ever-enthusiastic best friend, Josh Gilmore, had dreamt of for years. Ashford, however, saw it as a purely strategic move, a calculated maneuver with lucrative rewards. Sentimentality held no place in his world; only cold, hard business logic.

His colleagues descended upon him like hungry flies, their congratulations laced with an obvious layer of self-interest. Their back slaps felt more like physical assaults as he endured their sycophantic praise with a thin smile.

His mind was already meticulously dissecting the finer points of the Sterling project, formulating strategies to maximize profits. Even the polished sheen of his reflection in the mirrored elevator offered no sense of satisfaction. It was simply a return stare, devoid of warmth, a reflection of a man consumed by ambition.

"Ash, let's grab a coffee," Josh's cheerful voice broke the silence as he sidled up beside him.

Ashford responded with a glacial glare that could have frozen solid the steaming cup Josh was likely picturing.

"Don't you have a vague understanding of how my schedule works?" His voice dripped with disdain as he gestured to the overflowing paper, a tangible manifestation of the perpetual chaos that reigned supreme in his office.

"Ah, this mess must be because of that part-time secretary," Josh countered with a playful jab, well aware of Ashford's notorious inefficiency.

"Precisely," Ashford confirmed with a curt nod. "As of this morning, she's decided to pursue... 'domestic bliss,' or so she euphemistically phrased it."

"Seriously, man? You couldn't find another one? There must be a mountain of resumes piling up," Josh said, gesturing towards the overflowing inbox that doubled as a makeshift filing system.

"All meticulously printed from my emails," Ashford clarified, a hint of resignation coloring his voice. The pile over there." He shrugged and his expression darkened, thinking how he must be looking all over the application form one by one. "You know me. Efficiency is key, even in the face of desperation."

He scanned the pile of resumes with a discerning eye, each one a potential disappointment waiting to unfold. A deep sigh escaped his lips. "They just don't get it," he muttered, frustration lacing his voice. "The subtlety, the anticipation of my needs... it's far more than fetching coffee and filing memos."

"Look, you had Ms. Henderson," Josh interjected, referring to Ashford's previous secretary. "She was practically glued to your hip. Shame she retired."

"Too old and easily distracted," Ashford corrected him sharply. "Her grandchildren held a higher priority than deadlines."

He slumped back in his chair, the frustration of a never-ending recruitment process gnawing at him. "It's like searching for a mythical beast," he grumbled. "A secretary who can anticipate my every move, possesses an eagle eye for detail, and can navigate the corporate minefield without breaking a sweat."

Josh chuckled, the sound a stark contrast to Ashford's icy demeanor. "But I think you sound like you're looking for more than just a secretary, buddy. Maybe a wife?"

Ashford shot him a withering look that could have silenced a room full of chattering executives. "Focus, Josh. If you're not here to be productive, then..."

Josh held his hands up in mock surrender. "Alright, alright, Mr. Efficiency. But hear me out – club tonight. You need to loosen up a little." His playful grin did little to crack Ashford's stoic facade.

As Josh sauntered out, Ashford sank deeper into his chair. Maybe Josh had a point. Years had blurred by in a whirlwind of work and acquisitions, leaving him little time for personal pursuits.

His string of brief relationships, fueled by fleeting attraction and his own insatiable ambition, had all met the same tragic end – incompatibility. He craved a partner, someone who could navigate his ruthless world as an equal, but the mere thought of relinquishing control, of sharing the burden of power, sent a shiver of discomfort down his spine.

"Ridiculous," he muttered, pushing the image of a hypothetical partner away. Women were distractions, potential liabilities even. He had a company to run, an empire to build. Yet, a nagging voice in the back of his mind couldn't help but acknowledge the hollowness that echoed through his opulent penthouse once the workday ended.

Perhaps, he conceded, a competent secretary was the first step – a bridge to connect his chaotic world with the semblance of order he craved. With a resigned sigh, he picked up the first resume. It was a long shot, he knew, but a glimmer of hope flickered within him. Maybe, just maybe, there was a diamond in the rough waiting to be discovered.

...........

Stephanie's response was a noncommittal shrug. Her gaze lingered on me, a mix of amusement and disbelief flickering across her face. "Seriously, with that necklace?" she finally drawled.

Undeterred, I held aloft the pearl masterpiece. Catching the light, the pearls shimmered with an opulent glow, each one a tiny beacon of luxury. "But wouldn't you just look at it? Isn't it stunning?" I couldn't help but gush, captivated by the beauty in my grasp.

Stephanie snorted, a playful smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "Oh, I know your weakness," she teased. "Always the shiny things, the girl with a magpie's heart."

I chuckled, a nervous flutter in my chest. "Hey, don't be a hater," I countered, still admiring the necklace. It was a prize from an exclusive auction, one I wouldn't have dared dream of attending, let alone acquiring. "Besides, it's not about materialism, Steph. It's about appreciating the finer things in life, right?"

She rolled her eyes, a knowing smirk dancing on her lips. There was no fooling Stephanie; she knew her best friend all too well. This extravagant taste for luxury was no secret. "Alright, alright," she conceded with a good-natured sigh. "Enough with the chit-chat, I think a hotpot is calling my name. My carnivorous cravings are kicking in."

Taking my hand, she gave it a firm tug. I rose, a little unsteady on my feet, and allowed myself to be pulled along. As we walked, a torrent of words spilled from Stephanie's mouth. She was on a rant about her latest boyfriend troubles, the usual tale of incompatible personalities and questionable choices.

I mostly zoned out, used to her emotional roller coaster. But then, a jolt ran through me. It was like a sudden surge of electricity, concentrated in my right hand. My grip faltered, and the phone I'd been clutching clattered to the sidewalk.

My phone slipped from my grasp like a startled bird, clattering onto the cracked sidewalk with a sickening thud. I watched in horror as the screen spiderwebbed with fractures, a silent scream trapped in my throat. My grip on the phone, a reflex honed from years of fumbled texts and near misses, had inexplicably faltered.

Across from me, Stephanie launched into a flurry of apologies, her eyes wide with concern. "Evelyne, I'm so sorry! I didn't see him coming!"

The culprit, a tall man with tousled brown hair and eyes the color of a summer sky, stood frozen in place. My hand throbbed where it had collided with his shoulder, a phantom sensation lingering even as the initial jolt faded.

"It's not your fault," I managed to croak, my voice tight with frustration and a twinge of something else - was it a surprise?

The man finally recovered, his gaze landing on me. My breath hitched in my throat. His eyes, a startling blue in the dim streetlight, held an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine. An apology formed on his lips, but before he could utter a word, the unexpected happened.

Another jolt, this one stronger than before, sparked between us. It coursed through my hand, radiating an electrifying tingle that momentarily paralyzed me. My gaze locked with his, and for a fleeting second, it felt like the entire world faded away, leaving only him and me, suspended in a bubble of charged silence.

Then, as abruptly as it began, the sensation vanished. Blinking, I tore my eyes away, the intensity of the moment leaving me shaken. The man, bewildered by the whole exchange, said a short out apology.

I reached out instinctively, our fingers brushing as we both grasped for the phone. As our hands brushed in the process, another jolt, a warm electric current, zapped through me. It was fleeting but undeniable, leaving me breathless and flustered. I snatched the phone back, shoving it into my purse without a word.

"I got it," I muttered, snatching the phone back and shoving it into my purse. The screen was a shattered disaster, my frustration mounting.

"Look, I'll pay to fix it," the man insisted, his voice laced with a sincere concern that disarmed me slightly.

I opened my mouth to reply, "Accidents happen. We were just heading to dinner anyway."

He gave us both a hesitant nod, then turned and walked away, his tall frame disappearing into the bustling crowd.

Stephanie shot me a knowing look, her brow raised in a silent question. I ignored her, still reeling from the strange encounter. With a curt nod to the man, I turned and walked away, Stephanie trailing behind me, peppering me with questions.

The memory of the electrifying jolt lingered even as I followed Stephanie towards the hotpot restaurant. My phone, now a casualty of the collision, felt like a dead weight in my purse.

"Seriously, Evelyne, are you okay?" Stephanie asked, her playful teasing replaced by genuine concern. "You look pale."

I forced a smile. "Just a little shaken. That fall came out of nowhere."

I chuckled weakly, unable to shake the image of the blue-eyed stranger. How He stood frozen for a moment, his gaze locked with mine. There was something in his eyes, a spark of surprise that mirrored my own.

Stephanie shot me a curious look. "But honestly, Who was that?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

"No idea," I mumbled, my cheeks burning for reasons unknown. The encounter felt surreal, the unexpected electricity a confusing and intriguing experience.

We arrived at the restaurant, the warm aroma of simmering broth and sizzling meat greeting us. As we settled into a booth, Stephanie continued her relentless questioning.

"Evelyne, spill it! What was that whole weird vibe? Did you two exchange glances and accidentally download each other's souls or something?"

"I don't know, Steph," I admitted, frustration and a strange sense of excitement bubbling within me. "It felt like... electricity. And his eyes... they were incredible."

Stephanie chuckled, her usual mischievous glint back in her eyes. "Well, you can forget repairs. You need a whole new phone, preferably one with a bodyguard attached to prevent future sidewalk collisions. But seriously, Evelyne, are you interested? He seemed kind of shaken too."

I pondered her question, the memory of the blue eyes flashing in my mind. "Maybe," I admitted, a slow smile spreading across my face. "Maybe it wouldn't hurt to find out who our clumsy mystery man is."

The hotpot arrived, a steaming cauldron of deliciousness. We devoured the meal, Stephanie's earlier questions replaced by a comfortable silence. But beneath the surface, a newfound curiosity brewed within me. Who was the blue-eyed stranger?

And was our electrifying encounter just a bizarre coincidence, or the spark of something more? The shattered phone screen remained in my purse, a tangible reminder of the unexpected encounter that had disrupted my evening – and perhaps, sparked something unexpected in my heart.