The Billion Dollar Contract

Mia Five years ago . . . "Were you trying to kill yourself?!" Sam shouted as she pulled me towards her, trying to drag me away from the strange men dancing near me. The music was loud enough to drown her voice, but she made sure I heard every word as she shook my arm, wanting to get my full attention. Sam and I have been inseparable since high school. We did get separated when we went to university to get our degrees, but we made a long-distance friendship by always FaceTiming each other, asking about updates and sharing our own experiences as adults. She had seen me through my worst when I was crying for weeks from a stupid breakup. Then, she made sure I came back stronger. No one in the world could replace her. My head was spinning, and my eyes were getting blurry, but I knew she was laughing. Her lips were curved widely into a grin—it was clear as day she was drunk as well, she took as many shots as I did. "You're f*****g drunk, Sam." I chuckled. "Well, were you trying to kill yourself, Mia? I saw the amount of shots you took," Sam cupped my face, trying to get a better look at me under the dark and flickering lights. The irony of having someone just as drunk as I was to look after me; she needed someone to look after her, too. We were two single ladies trying our very best to appear as independent as we could. "I'm just enjoying my time here, babe." "Take it easy. You have a job interview tomorrow," she said with eyes piercing straight into mine. My eyes widened, feeling my cheeks beginning to heat up. I was never able to adapt to the high consumption of alcohol, but I wanted to relax. Whenever I drank too much, my cheeks would redden almost immediately, "Don't worry about it. I'm going to ace that interview," "I know you will, but you don't want to look like a freak mess tomorrow morning," she replied. "One last drink and we're going home. Deal?" "Deal." We intertwined our pinky fingers, making a cute little pinky swear. It has been our 'friendship tradition' ever since we were teenagers. It may seem silly and not a lot of people understood how much our friendship works, but we never needed anyone else's validation. Our families were close as well, they knew we were literally inseparable. Sam had cried her eyes out when her pet hamster died when she was eighteen. Not just that, she called and cried in the bathroom at a hotel when she lost her virginity during senior prom. We went through our freaky and weird moments, never expecting to turn out to become wonderful women. We didn't leave after our next drink. We had a few more drinks and spent more time swaying our hips on the dance floor before we decided we wanted to leave. It was not until a couple of creeps were touching our bodies inappropriately—we weren't in the mood for any of those, we just wanted to spend time together having fun. I felt like I wanted to throw up and Sam was being Sam, just holding my hair as she rubbed my back in small circles. The alcohol could never get to her, she was a wild animal. "There, there... let it all out," she patted my back as I threw up. The bitter and sour taste left my mouth, making me groan in discomfort. My head was starting to ache; no doubt going to make me grumpy as hell if I didn't sleep it off. Luckily for us, we managed to get a cab and I don't remember much of what happened on the way home except for the fact that the cab driver needed to make a quick stop because I wanted to throw up again. All I could hear was him complaining about how I could've accidentally vomited in his taxi, even when I didn't. Sam was arguing back with him as they both spoke in Spanish—didn't understand them. Sam was very fluent because of her Latina roots, while I was as ordinary as any American girl who only knew how to speak English. It was fun, having Sam help me up the stairs when we reached her apartment. I was practically putting all of my weight on her and don't get me wrong, I could hear her grunts and complaints as we walked up the stairs, but somehow we managed to reach inside the apartment and the last thing I remembered was lying on the bed and shutting my eyes. The next morning, I woke up in a panic to my alarm. "s**t, s**t, s**t. I'm going to be late!" I groaned, immediately running to the bathroom to take a quick shower. Once I was done cleaning myself up and putting on some minimal makeup, I went out to the bedroom to find Sam sleeping peacefully on the bed. She had changed into her favourite pair of pyjamas—she had that one rule, to never sleep in the outfit she wore outside. I knew how disgusting it was to sleep in my clubbing outfit, but I was too drunk to care, and I couldn't even open my eyes. I grabbed my bag and the rest of my stuff before rushing out the door. The whole trip to the building was smooth, making me thank God as much as I could, even though that was a rare occurrence. I reached the building just in time as the cab driver dropped me off at the lobby—taking my sweet time to smooth out my skirt. I wasn't wearing anything too flashy, just a short pencil skirt and a tucked-in white collared shirt. Anyone could've even mistaken me as a waitress downtown. I didn't have time to complain or think about that, it was my mistake to drink as much as I did last night. It was a miracle of how much my head was functioning at the moment. The building was huge, standing tall in the middle of New York City. Many men in their suits and ties, walked around in different directions. Some were talking on the phone, and they all seemed really busy. I ignored the stares I was getting as I made my way to the receptionist, registering my name for me to go up for the interview. "Ms. Madden, please have a seat and we'll be with you shortly." One of the women said, before walking away. It wasn't just me for the interview because I could see three other women. They were looking at me as if I had run over their cats, with their daggering stares, but I minded my own business by sitting still and checking on my phone. It wasn't my first time encountering snobby-looking women. I've had my fair share with them. I applied for a job at Auclair Enterprises four months ago, and it took them a while to call me and set up an interview. I understood because it was not a small company—they were known for their reputation in real estate. People said that even if you had a dump of a house if you could work with Auclair Enterprises, you were going to sell your house at a good price. They are good at what they do, exceeding their reputation. If I can secure a job at this company, I will climb up the ladder. Thirty minutes had passed, and I was the only one left. The two women before me had walked out crying without sparing me a second glance and I knew better than to panic. I didn't have any high expectations of getting a job here as panic was starting to set in, but I knew I had to give it a try. "Mia Madden." "That's me." I stood up, following the woman into the room at the end of the hall. As soon as I stepped inside, the man in the middle immediately caught my attention. His dark brown hair was tousled and thick as they seemed smooth to run fingers through, his posture was tall and straight as he sat and ran through the files in front of him. The other two men beside him were drowned out, I couldn't even look away from the mysterious man in the middle—he was charismatic and powerful. What stopped me was when his hazel eyes looked up at me. "Ms. Madden, please take a seat." He said, his voice deep and slightly husky. Any woman was bound to fall on their knees for this man, just by his appearance alone. If I could rate him, it was going to exceed the scale—I had never seen a man as attractive as he was, but I needed to remember the main reason I came here. I needed this job. I needed to try and secure this job. "I've read your resume and I don't think I need to ask you to introduce yourself any further." He spoke, staring straight into my eyes as if he could pass through my soul. He was a man of confidence, and he knew he had that power, he could easily run anyone over, and it wasn't going to be his fault. "Where do you see yourself in five years?" "In five years, I see myself continuing to work hard and progressing in my current role. I hope to have acquired the necessary skills and experience to successfully lead a team where I want to be seen as a valuable member. I would also like to have developed a good working relationship with all team members," My answer was simple and direct. It was all I could think of because I had searched on Google a few days ago. I knew the question was going to come out, but I didn't expect it to be the first question. "Do you know the role we're offering you?" "A position in the finance department," "No, we're offering a position as a personal assistant to the CEO." Personal assistant. I never thought I was coming here for an interview for that exact position because in the email and during the phone call, they had stated differently. Besides, I thought that my finance degree was finally going to be put up for good use. "They said it was for a position in the finance—" He had cut me off, "—that position is filled." We were staring eye to eye as my mind was running wild. The man had a straight face, not a single smile, and he didn't seem cheerful at all. I thought the least I could get was a welcoming smile, but he didn't even bother to ask about me, he went straight away with the questions. I accepted the position. If only I had known earlier how much chaos the man in front of me was going to bring into my life. Maybe I would've chosen differently.