Chapter 2 The dinner

Chapter 2

I didn't notice the kitchen and dining area behind the living room, so I was surprised by his presence. He is so intimidating. Even though we were far apart, I still felt the distance between us.

He was wearing black Nike shorts and a white shirt. His well-built body was noticeable, clearly well taken care of. His eyes lingered on me for a moment, then he nodded to the bodyguard, who immediately left. I didn't know what to do.

"Hm..." I couldn't say anything.

I wanted to approach him, but I shouldn't. He was cooking, so I didn't know what to do. Should I stand or sit?

"You can sit there and watch something," he said.

There was a large television in front of me, and he was on the side cooking pork steak. There were lights beside us, and I could clearly see his posture, something I never thought I would see so clearly.

I didn't look at him again. I focused on the show instead. I could feel his gaze too.

"Stop staring, Navida," he said.

So I looked at him. I couldn't bring myself to respect him. I felt that way earlier, but not anymore. How shameless.

I had been watching the flat screen for an hour, not daring to look toward President Emerson's kitchen. I still couldn't believe I was here, in his penthouse. My eyes wandered around the room, unable to settle. It felt surreal.

I wanted to grab my phone and text my mom that I'd be home late, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. I knew I wouldn't be able to resist searching for the President's name again. So many questions ran through my mind-how does he manage to keep his bar visits a secret? What if someone saw me? Where is his family, and why are there no portraits of them?

I turned at the sound of his heavy footsteps on the tiles. It seemed like he was deliberately making noise to announce his presence. I immediately stood up to help, but he merely raised an eyebrow at me, so I stepped aside from the dining table.

I bit my lip. "Do you want some help? To speed things up? It's late, and my mom might be looking for me." I said, but he ignored me.

I sighed as he returned to the kitchen area. I sat back down, eyeing the food he had prepared. I was getting hungry, but I tried not to show it.

"Don't go home yet. Call later. Eat first," he said, sending a shiver down my spine. Why did his words sound so normal yet feel as though he was comforting me, despite being demanding?

I just nodded and kept quiet. When he finally served the food, I was shocked. I thought he was going to serve himself, but he placed the food on my plate instead. It touched me in a way I hadn't expected-no one had ever done that for me before, cared about what I ate.

"Thank you, President," I said, taking a bite of the beef steak and vegetables.

"Easy, there's plenty more in the kitchen. I'll get you more if you finish that, Navida," he glanced at me. "Stop calling me President. Call me by my first name. I prefer it."

I nodded casually and continued eating.

After chewing, I couldn't hold back my curiosity. "Where's your family?" I glanced at him briefly. Even the way he drank looked manly.

"Don't ask about my family. They don't exist to me," he said, turning to me, making me furrow my brows. I decided not to dwell on it.

I just smiled and nodded. If that's what he wanted, why should I argue? It didn't matter to me anyway.

"What am I supposed to do here? Why am I staying until tomorrow?" I asked, taking another bite without hesitation.

"I want to spend time with you, and I'm offering you five months until the end of my candidacy as President," he said calmly.

I didn't care what the deal was as long as it helped my mom. "What's that? I don't mind. So, in five months, you won't be President anymore. I'm sorry if I offend you, but I don't really know much about elections. I'm more concerned about working than debating who to vote for. Nothing changes no matter who's in office." I touched my head and closed my eyes. Stupid mouth. You're talking to the President, and that's what you say?

He chuckled. "It's fine, I'm used to comments like that. We do our best to make things right, but we know someone will always ruin it and not be satisfied. I want to live peacefully without my life being questioned. Tomorrow, I'll send the documents for our arrangement."

"Is your life in danger? Is that why you want me here? You have plenty of guards," I said, relieved to escape my earlier embarrassment.

"I'll explain it to you tomorrow. For now, let's both get some rest. I have a lot of papers to finish. I'll take you to your room before I leave."

"I'm done eating," I said.

"Can I kiss you?" I turned to him, wondering why I felt this way. He's the President; he doesn't need to ask me, but he wanted my consent.

"Yes," I said, almost eagerly.

Up close, his eyes were beautiful. There were no signs of exhaustion despite his workload. I always thought a President carried all the world's burdens, but he seemed untroubled.

His kiss was gentle. His left hand rested on my right cheek. I swallowed hard when his right hand began to caress my left breast.

His kiss was still tender, making me forget the whirlwind of events over the past few weeks. I didn't even ask why he didn't push me away if he was planning to get rid of me. Why does he keep coming back?

"Let's go..." he said calmly.

I opened my eyes, feeling unsatisfied with what had happened, thinking there would be more, but there wasn't.

"Sure," I said and followed him upstairs.

I woke up without even realizing I had fallen asleep. I didn't notice if he had lain beside me last night or if he was in another room. Did he come here to check on me or not? Why am I even hoping for that?

"It's about the d*mn arrangement. I'm willing to do it because of him. Have I gone mad for him? He needs me, but for what when he has so many others on his level?" I sighed, my eyes roaming the spacious room and the curtains blocking the light.

I was so tired that it was only now that I noticed how large his room was-twice the size of our house. The furniture and decor were expensive, probably the most luxurious in the world.

I know he comes from old money. Even as a young man, he had already shown his capabilities, according to media reports, but I know not everything they say is true. Comparing myself to him-a Grade 12 student who hasn't even graduated yet-while he has already achieved so much.

I shook my head and got up, making the bed even though there were no signs that he had slept beside me. I pulled back the curtain and sighed at the beauty of the sky and clouds.

"What have I gotten myself into? Is this right?" I whispered just as there was a knock on the door.

"Good morning, kindly open the door," he said.

I wondered why the door was closed; the last thing I remember was leaving it open. I hurried to avoid inconveniencing him. It was already 7 AM, and I knew how valuable his time was.

I felt guilty. I opened the door and greeted him cheerfully, "Good morning, Emerson!" I had so many questions, but I didn't want to ask them, afraid of changing his mood.

He looked me up and down, raising an eyebrow. I didn't know why I felt like he was disappointed.

"Come downstairs; we need to discuss our arrangement," he said.

I thought he would guide me down the stairs, but his mood was always unpredictable. I couldn't tell if he was happy or sad, annoyed or indifferent toward me. If he was just tolerating me because I was an easy target, then I would tolerate it too-for my family.

I thought he wasn't a gentleman, but when I came downstairs, I found breakfast already prepared, and he raised an eyebrow at me. A proud grin spread across his face.

"You did all this?" I asked as I sat down. "You woke up early to do this even though I know you're busy with your organization." I added as I sat down.

I thought he was going somewhere, but he turned on a cassette player. The music lightened the atmosphere, calming the surroundings.

"You like this song?" he teased as he returned to his seat, sitting across from me, unlike last night when he was beside me.

"I love old songs, and I know you do too. You wouldn't have played it if I didn't like it," I grinned and began eating while he stared at me.

He seemed to be gauging whether I was teasing him or not. I shrugged. I didn't want to banter with him anymore.

I saw a genuine smile appear when he noticed his plate filled with food.

While he was busy with the mix tape, I had already put food on his plate. I thought he had noticed, but he looked at me after inserting the mix tape.

"Hm... Thank you for this. I appreciate it," he genuinely smiled at me.

I knew he was happy, but I couldn't tell if it was all real. I knew he was genuine when he first saw the plate, but now I couldn't feel if his smile was true.

I'm so easily deceived.

No one spoke for a few minutes, the only sound coming from the cassette player, providing emotion even in our silence.

I was about to speak, but he beat me to it, so I just nodded and continued eating.

"You start talking first," he said. He was staring at me, and I didn't realize he had already finished eating. He ate so quickly.

I hesitated, but I didn't want this to bother me any longer.

I took a sip. "What about our arrangement? Don't tell me I have to pretend in front of everyone?" I asked, pausing my meal.

"We don't even need to have a copy of papers for our arrangement. This is a simple favor that can benefit us both. It's 50/50."

I nodded, almost mindlessly agreeing with him.

"So, what? What favor?"

"I want our relationship to be public and real," he said.

I was surprised by his favor. Where's the arrangement? The arrangement where he would help me, but after months, we both knew it was real. I was confused.

"Can you explain to me specifically?" I calmly said.

"I want you. I

To Be Continued...