Lunistra
The Cafe

Emily had scoured the revised contract, her brow furrowing at each alteration. "Okay—section 2 is giving me a headache... Am I supposed to be your fiancée or your maid now? Why is there a whole section for housekeeping duties?" Although the wording was different, Emily was sure it was housekeeping duties. She lifted her copy to them and pointed at the exact line that said:

Overseeing household duties, including meal planning, organisation and upkeep.

Those did not sound like the things a fiancee of a CEO would do. It sounded more like a maid. Laurence shrugged. "Well, if you're after an advance, we expect you to earn it, no? So, how much did you want?"

Seemingly placated by this response, Emily sighed and gave slow nods because yes, that made sense. If she wanted more from them, they would want more from her, too. Quid pro quo.

Timothy, leaning back in his chair, observed the exchange with a cool detachment, his eyes betraying a hint of amusement.

Biting her lip, Emily mentally tallied her debts. "Three million Luna, give or take." Probably more if she factored in her expenses, but if she could secure this job for a year, she'd be sorted. In ten months, she would be debt free. A little housekeeping work shouldn't be an issue. Besides, she was only cleaning up after one person. How hard could that be?

Her gross monthly earnings at the flower shop were only a third of what they were offering her—and that was during peak season. On regular days, she barely made a tenth of that. That was why her mother shouldered most of the household expenses, leaving Emily responsible only for Michael's education—which, honestly, was still a substantial amount.

"That's one way to screw yourself over." Timothy mused, his tone unhurried, maybe even mocking.

Feeling slighted, Emily shot back, "Easy for you to say, Mr. I-Own-Lunaria." Belatedly, she realised that she shouldn't have said that to Timothy because he now looked at her with a quirked brow. Amused or affronted, she wasn't sure.

Timothy didn't respond but she couldn't shake the feeling that she made an overstep. The quiet hum of the mystic grid didn't help the unease that started to envelope her. 

Laurence, ever the mediator, interjected, proposing a compromise. "Let's try a few days with Timothy. If you do well, we'll give you the 300,000 Luna to get your house back."

A look of worry flashed in her eyes, "And if I don't? If I don't do well?" She asked.

"You don't really have a choice but to do well, Ms. Choi. Or was I mistaken to assume that you needed this job?" Timothy let out a chuckle but it was bereft of emotions.

His gaze pinned her in place as he took small sips off his still steaming cup of coffee, so all she could do was avert her eyes, glancing down at her own cup which had grown cold and stale, avoiding him completely. An unsettling feeling descended in her stomach and instead of responding to him, she turned to Laurence: "And what about all the mushy stuff? Are we supposed to play house or just pretend to like each other?"

Laurence chuckled, his tone wry. "We figured you two could handle that on your own. We're paying for a performance, not romance."

Timothy watched her, his expression unreadable. "Falling for me would be a mistake," he began, and Emily was sure she felt the temperature drop in the room, her cold and clammy hands were a witness to it. Her heart constricted and her stomach churned at the words. She couldn't fathom where in the world he pulled that idea from. Stay your thoughts, Em. Manage your impulses.

"But you're smarter than that, aren't you, Ms. Choi?"

Emily breathed in sharply, a shudder running down her spine. The room definitely felt colder, or maybe it was just Timothy's icy words sinking into her skin. She blinked, her eyes trained on the steam billowing off his coffee cup, trying to steady herself, but the sting lingered. Then she heard Laurence clear his throat, as if trying to break whatever tension had formed between her and Timothy.

Was he just getting a rise out of her so she would run for the hills? If he was, then he was sorely mistaken. She could take anything at this point. "Fine. But if this blows up in my face, I'm blaming you both." She muttered, keeping her gaze firmly on the contract, as if it held all the answers to her regrets.

When their meeting drew to a close, Emily began packing her things. She stole one last glance at Timothy and she couldn't shake the feeling that she was walking straight into something she couldn't control.