The CEO’s Secret Fiancé

003: So, You’re A S*x Worker?

|Casmira's POV|

I drop heavily into my chair, fingers gripping the edge of my desk as my heart struggles to settle from that maddening encounter with Draven. My mind races through the events of last night, replaying each heated look and whisper, each bold move he made. That's when the truth about his "real" job drifts back into focus.

Draven must be a high-end escort—one of those discreet, exclusive types only a certain kind of clientele can afford. I mean, it's the only logical explanation for why he was so comfortable, so professional about last night. I've heard about men like him before: polished, classy, the kind of men who would charge an outrageous amount per hour. And the penthouse I woke up in? It was too luxe, even for someone who just happened to be charming and rich.

But what I can't figure out is why he would then apply to be my assistant. Did he figure out who I was after I left? Did he apply here just to...try his luck? My stomach twists with a blend of suspicion and intrigue. I can't help but wonder what his endgame might be.

Before I can gather my thoughts, the door to my office opens with a knock, and Emily steps in, carrying a stack of files. "Ms. Young, here are the documents you requested," she says briskly, glancing over her shoulder. "Your new assistant is waiting outside, too. He said he'd be available whenever you needed him."

Of course, he is. I nod to Emily, dismissing her with a quick thanks. As soon as she's gone, I close my eyes, steeling myself. I can't afford to let my suspicions affect my work. If Draven wants to play this game, I'll be damned if I'm the one to back down first.

With a deep breath, I press the intercom. "Draven, I need you in here."

Moments later, the door swings open, and he steps inside, his expression as calm and unreadable as ever. He shuts the door behind him and strides to my desk, all smooth confidence.

"Yes, Ms. Young?"

"First things first," I say, keeping my voice level as I pick up the first file from the stack. "We need to set some ground rules if this...arrangement is going to work."

He raises a brow, a small smile tugging at his lips as he eases into the chair across from me. "I'm all ears."

I ignore the smug look on his face and continue. "You don't question my decisions. You follow instructions, and you don't interfere in my personal business."

"Understood," he says smoothly. "But out of curiosity...are you always this demanding?"

"Yes," I snap, before I can stop myself. His smile only widens, and I grit my teeth, refusing to be thrown off balance. I push a stack of documents toward him.

"You'll be handling my schedule, arranging meetings, and assisting with projects as needed. I don't care if you're new. If you're here, I expect results, or this won't work out."

He gives a slight nod, flipping open the top file with a confident ease that tells me he's no stranger to handling paperwork. That only confirms my suspicions—he's clearly trained himself to move seamlessly in high society. He probably knows exactly how to play the role of a refined gentleman to satisfy his clientele.

"So," I say, trying to keep my tone light, "how long have you been in this...line of work?"

He pauses, looking up with a flicker of surprise before recovering with a faint smile. "Which line of work, exactly?"

I fold my arms, giving him a scrutinizing look. "Working as an...assistant." The word assistant comes out with a slight hesitation, and I watch his face for any sign of reaction.

He chuckles, and something about the sound is almost too natural, too practiced. "Long enough to know my way around a demanding boss."

I lean forward, my gaze narrowing. "Well, considering the...nature of your other profession, I'd say that's impressive." My voice is calm, but I watch him carefully for a response, wanting to gauge just how much he'll reveal.

There's a brief pause, and his brow lifts. "My...other profession?"

I match his stare, unflinching. "Don't act coy with me, Draven. We both know what I'm talking about. I may have left before sunrise, but I'm not blind. I know your type—the confident, expensive, 'high-class escort' type."

For a second, I see something flicker in his eyes—a moment of genuine shock, like I'd caught him off guard. Then, to my utter irritation, his face splits into a wide grin, and he leans back in his chair, clearly amused.

"You think I'm...a s*x worker?" His voice is laced with humor, and it only makes me more annoyed.

I tilt my head, keeping my tone ice-cold. "Are you telling me you're not?"

He laughs softly, shaking his head. "Well, that's a new one. I'm flattered, Casmira, but no. I'm not in that line of business." He smirks, giving me a once-over. "Although, if I were, I'd probably be one of the best."

"Right," I deadpan, refusing to rise to the bait. "But you're telling me that penthouse was...what? Just a lucky coincidence?"

He shrugs, still watching me with that maddening glint in his eye. "Lucky, yes. But hardly a coincidence."

I frown, trying to untangle his meaning, but he leans forward, voice dropping to a softer, almost teasing tone. "Let's just say I'm someone who likes to take on...unique experiences. Working with someone as fierce and ruthless as you, Ms. Young? Now that's something I wouldn't pass up."

A shiver runs down my spine at the intensity in his gaze. There's something in his voice, a hint of something almost sincere beneath the charm. But I push it aside, refusing to let him get under my skin.

"Well, if you're so keen to prove yourself," I say, pulling my focus back to the files in front of me, "then I suggest you start by managing these meetings for next week. I expect everything to run perfectly. Any issues, and you'll be back on the street faster than you can say 'escort.'"

His eyes dance with amusement, but he merely nods, taking the file from my hand. "Consider it done."

Without another word, he stands, giving me a small, respectful nod before he heads for the door. Just as he reaches it, he glances over his shoulder, his gaze meeting mine with that same infuriating mix of arrogance and intrigue.

"Oh, and Casmira?"

I raise a brow, keeping my face blank. "Yes?"

He smirks. "I appreciate the compliment. But let's keep the rumors to a minimum, shall we?"

Before I can respond, he's gone, leaving me staring at the door, caught between frustration and reluctant amusement.

I shake my head, trying to focus on my work, but his words echo in my mind, refusing to be silenced. Whatever game he's playing, he'd better be prepared. Because I'm not about to let him get the upper hand. Not in my company, and certainly not in my life.

But a tiny part of me—the part that hasn't felt truly alive in years—wonders what would happen if I stopped fighting this. If I let him into the chaos of my world, even just for a little while.

The thought lingers, teasing and dangerous. But for now, I push it away, focusing on the pile of work in front of me, determined to stay in control...