Chapter 2: The $10,000 Compromise
In the back laundry room, Donna—Mia’s closest friend and co-worker—was folding a stack of Egyptian cotton sheets when Mia burst through the swinging doors. Her hair was a mess, her face was flushed bright red, and she was breathing like she’d just run a marathon.
“Did something happen?” Donna asked, pausing with a pillowcase in her hands.
“Something?” Mia let out a dark, manic laugh. “The boss kissed me.”
Donna dropped the pillowcase. “Huh?”
“That’s right. In the middle of the grand lobby. With his ice-queen mother watching.” Mia paced back and forth across the linoleum. “He said he needed to escape an arranged marriage, and I was a convenient excuse!”
“And… how did you feel?” Donna asked, a sly smile creeping onto her face.
Mia threw her hands up. “Angry! Furious! Confused!”
“And the kiss?”
Mia stopped pacing. She looked at the washing machines for two solid seconds. “Tasted like expensive toothpaste and arrogant entitlement.”
“Did you like it?”
“I liked wanting to punch him in the jaw!” Mia protested, though a small blush betrayed her. “But… I admit, maybe… just maybe, my heart skipped a tiny beat. But it was just a reflex! Like sneezing when you look at the sun, you know?”
“Right. A sneeze,” Donna chuckled, leaning against the folding table. “Well, if he comes back with this fake girlfriend nonsense, what are you gonna do?”
“I’ll smack him with a wet mop. With flair.”
They both burst out laughing, the tension finally breaking.
What Mia didn’t know was that on the other side of the mansion, Alexander was sitting in his security office, staring at the muted feed of the hallway camera. He watched the replay of her throwing the rag at him.
He touched his jaw. A slight smile broke through his usually stoic expression. Maybe, he thought, just maybe, this defiant cleaning lady was vastly more interesting than any heiress in a custom-made dress.
The next day, Mia showed up to work early, carrying twice the usual amount of grumpiness. With every step she took down the long corridor, she promised herself she wouldn’t even look at the impulsive CEO’s face.
That promise lasted exactly thirty-five seconds.
Alexander Montgomery was leaning casually against the kitchen doorframe, holding a mug of black coffee, sporting a maddening smirk.
“Good morning, temporary girlfriend,” he teased. “Sleep well?”
Mia didn’t even break stride. She aggressively sprayed glass cleaner onto the window. “I dreamt I was shoving a feather duster down your throat. Want me to draw you a picture?”
Alexander chuckled, taking a sip of his coffee. “Violent. I like it.”
“I am not your girlfriend,” she said, scrubbing the glass hard enough to squeak. “What happened yesterday was your personal psychological meltdown. Count me out.”
Alexander pushed off the doorframe, his smirk fading into a look of serious business. He walked over and gently placed his mug on the marble island.
“Mia, listen. I know it was weird. Okay? It was bizarre. But I have a real problem with this engagement thing. My mother holds serious sway with the board of directors. If she thinks I’m lying, she’ll force the Sterling merger. I need her to believe I am genuinely off the market.”
He paused, letting the weight of the room settle.
“If you agree to pretend to be my girlfriend for one week—just until I sort this out with my lawyers—I’ll pay you.”
Mia stopped scrubbing. She slowly turned around, wiping her hands on her apron. “You’ll what?”
“I’ll pay you.”
Mia let out a harsh, dry laugh. “You’ll pay me to pretend to be in love with you? What do you think I am? An actress in some cheap, last-minute Hallmark movie?”
“No,” Alexander said firmly. “I think you’re smart enough to see a highly profitable opportunity.”
“Oh, sure!” Mia threw her hands up. “Because pretending to be swept off my feet by a bossy, emotionally stunted CEO who thinks his tie dictates gravity is every working-class woman’s ultimate fantasy!”
Alexander sighed, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair. “Are you honestly telling me you couldn’t use a little extra money?”
“Maybe I could,” Mia shot back, her pride flaring. “But I could also use a massage chair and a lifetime supply of pistachio ice cream. That doesn’t mean I go around signing my soul over to billionaires who think everything has a price tag.”
She stood firm, chin tilted up, eyes daring him to push her.
“Okay,” Alexander said softly, raising his hands in surrender. “If you change your mind… let me know.”
He walked out of the kitchen, leaving behind the heavy scent of roasted espresso and his bruised ego.
Hours later, Mia was emptying the trash in the den when her phone vibrated in her pocket. It was her mother, Carmen.
“Mami, what’s wrong?” Mia asked, pressing the phone to her ear.
“It’s Nico, mija,” her mother’s voice trembled through the speaker. “He’s back in the hospital. His heart… the doctors say the condition has worsened. The bypass surgery needs to happen by the end of the month.”
Mia felt the floor drop out from beneath her. “But the waiting list—”
“The waiting list only moves faster when your wallet does the talking,” Carmen sobbed quietly. “I don’t know what we’re going to do, Mia. We don’t have the funds.”
Mia closed her eyes, fighting the hot sting of tears. “Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll fix it. I promise.”
She hung up the phone slowly, her knuckles turning white. She stared out the massive bay windows of the mansion, looking at the rolling green lawns that cost more to maintain in a month than her family made in a year.
That evening, as the sun dipped below the Chicago skyline, Alexander was sitting by the grand fireplace, a tablet in his lap, when he heard footsteps.
He looked up. Mia was standing in the doorway, gripping the handle of her mop.
“Is the offer still on the table?” she asked, her voice devoid of its usual sarcasm.
Alexander set the tablet aside, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. “Until Sunday.”
“How much?”
“$5,000 for the week,” he stated, stepping into his negotiating persona. “It goes straight into your account.”
“Ten thousand,” Mia countered without blinking.
Alexander raised an eyebrow. “Ten?”
“Ten thousand,” she repeated, stepping into the room. “And with a signed contract. No surprise kisses. No touching without my explicit permission.”
Alexander leaned back in his leather chair, crossing his legs. “You drive a hard bargain, Miss Gonzalez. Go ahead. What are your conditions?”
“Rule one,” Mia said, ticking a finger in the air. “Don’t boss me around. I’m not your secretary, I’m not your assistant, and I am certainly not your fancy little pet. When we are ‘dating’, we are equals.”
“Alright.”
“Rule two. No comments about how I look. Not good, not bad. And don’t you dare try to dress me up like some personal My Fair Lady makeover project. I wear what I wear.”
Alexander hid an amused smile. “You really thought this through.”
“Rule three,” Mia’s voice hardened, and the vulnerability in her eyes vanished, replaced by sheer steel. “I’m doing this for my brother. If you are disrespectful, if you are rude, or if you ever try to humiliate me in front of your snobby friends… the deal is off right then and there, and I keep the deposit. Got it?”
Alexander looked at her. Really looked at her. He saw the fierce, unbreakable loyalty burning in her chest. He stood up, walked over to her, and extended his hand.
“Deal.”
Mia grabbed his hand and shook it with a grip that surprised him. “Great. Now get out of my way. The floor’s not going to mop itself.”
