The CEO's Unexpected Proposal

Lyra Sheridan was gently roused from her slumber by morning rays, playing peekaboo through the gauzy white curtains trailing on the floor.

She murmured a protest, intent on a blissful return to her dreams with a lazy roll.

But as her hand brushed against an unexpected, steely form beside her, her eyes shot open in shock.

The handsome, familiar visage of her boss, Easton, the CEO no less came into sharp focus, and she clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a scream.

In a frantic tumble, she bolted upright—she had, unbelievably, slept with her boss!

Sitting there, her gaze locked on him for an eternity of seconds, the fog of last night's drunken escapades came crashing back. Her eyes widened in horror as she stared at Easton as if he were a ghost materialized before her.

Not just any disaster.

It's not that her boss fu*ked with her, but rather she was the one who fuc*ed her boss!

She sat, pale as a ghost, her mind replaying the steely-faced reprimand she'd received over a minor report mix-up.

If a small mistake had earned her a scathing lecture, what would be the price for this…

She fled the hotel like a woman possessed, only exhaling a shaky breath once ensconced in the back of a taxi.

Damian, that heartless cad!

Her ex, Damian, had shared three years and countless dreams with Lyra, even cooing over wedding bands and gowns.

But the night before their wedding, she caught him tangled in a sordid embrace with her half-sister.

When confronted, they had the gall to turn the tables on her, convincing her father to cast her out like yesterday's garbage. Drowning in misery, she sought solace at the bottom of a glass in a bar, where she stumbled upon Easton. In a crowded crush of bodies and a haze of alcohol, she ended up dousing him with her drink...

And as if that wasn't bad enough, she recalled with a flush of mortification, stripping his shirt off in a drunken bravado.

"Oh, Mom, what do I do now?" Lyra covered her face in despair.

Her mother had been gone for ten years, taken in an accident that sparked a family feud ripe with blame and bitterness.

A decade ago, a private plane carrying her brother and mother, dispatched by her uncle, had plummeted from the sky, claiming her mother's life and leaving her brother's fate unknown.

Her father accused her uncle of foul play, coveting their share of the family fortune, while her uncle accused her father of a monetary ploy. The families' rift was deep and irreparable.

Since college, Lyra had been piecing together the puzzle of that tragic flight, but now, cast out and without the Sheridan name to protect her, the truth seemed more elusive than ever.

As her past grief mingled with her present turmoil, Lyra's defenses crumbled, and tears traced silent paths down her cheeks.

Racing against time and with a job on the line, Lyra freshened up in a nearby mall's restroom before darting to work.

It was Monday, the day of board meetings, and she was on deck to prep.

She narrowly slipped into the closing elevator, a sheepish smile plastered on her face.

But the smile died a swift death when she saw who was also in the elevator.

Easton, the epitome of tailored perfection, his dark suit and sculpted features were a stark contrast to the chaos of her current state His indifferent gaze met hers, ice cold.

Lyra wished the ground would swallow her whole. Why did she catch this particular elevator? "Good morning... Mr. Blake..." she stammered.

As if on cue, the elevator stopped, and Easton, without a glance her way, strode out, leaving a trail of sandalwood fragrance that momentarily stunned her.

Lyra, mustering courage, followed shortly after.

Upon seeing her, the secretary-general, Evangeline, thrust a card into her hand: "Lyra, you're on breakfast duty for Mr. Blake. Hurry, he's already in his office!"

"But—can I not?" Lyra pleaded.

"No, he specifically asked for you."

“…”

Lyra felt like vanishing.

With the card in hand, teeth gritted, she re-entered the elevator.

The office was a beehive of Monday morning bustle. She purchased Easton's breakfast, tailored to his exacting taste, and as she stepped out of the elevator, the stern voice from the CEO's office echoed down the hall:

"Is this really the plan you turned in? What, did you do it blindfolded?"

Preparing herself for battle, Lyra straightened her spine, knocked timidly on the door, and entered the lion's den.

"Breakfast is served, Mr. Blake."

"Come in."

Lyra lingered at the door, her head bowed, until she realized Easton was addressing her.

She quickly stepped inside, saying, "Mr. Blake, I think you'll find the Americano particularly delightful today—it's at the perfect sipping temperature. And this sandwich—crisp, freshly-sliced bacon, prepared right before my eyes by the chef."

She placed the meal on his expansive desk, her eyes twinkling with a mix of hope and pride as she looked at Easton.

Her face was a canvas of earnestness, her eyes curved like crescents, her small face framed by an elegant nose and lips as soft and rosy as petals.

Easton's gaze lingered on her just a moment too long, as if transfixed.

The sunlight danced on his eyelashes, casting shadows that gave him the air of a noble, tender model from a luxury cigarette ad, poised to lean in for a kiss.

But his next words shattered the illusion, "Lyra, it's half past eight, and you present me with an Americano? As my personal assistant, you should remember that coffee on an empty stomach can lead to gastritis. Are you subtly plotting against my health?"

Lyra's smile faltered, her eyes widening in disbelief as she stared at Easton.

"Wait, what now?"

Wasn't this his preferred way to start a day?

An Americano paired with a sandwich was the unwritten law etched into every secretary’s mind at the office. How could this suddenly be unacceptable?

"Get a replacement. You have five minutes."

Easton commanded without glancing up from his paperwork, his voice as indifferent as if he were discussing the weather.

Five minutes!

Lyra nearly imagined throwing the breakfast at his handsome, indifferent face.

"Sir, an Americano and a sandwich are part of your morning ritual. If not these, then what am I supposed to fetch?"

Lyra masked her irritation with a forced smile, her words coming out through gritted teeth.

"People change habits like they change clothes, Lyra. Some folks can hit it and quit it without a word the next day. What's a coffee preference in comparison?" he retorted without missing a beat.

"..." Lyra's cheeks flamed with embarrassment.

She glanced anxiously at the door, relieved to find it devoid of eavesdroppers, and quickly made her exit.

"I'll be right back with something else!"

"Stop right there."

As she stepped through the doorway, a voice as chilling as a demon's whisper commanded, "Latte and a bagel. Make it snappy."

Lyra didn’t respond, instead, she bolted down the stairs, cursing the ruthless capitalist in her wake.

The Blake Group's building only hosted one Starbucks nearby – where on earth was she supposed to find his latte and bagel?

There used to be a breakfast spot that served both, but it was exiled by Easton's merciless decree - he didn’t want the office smelling like a sandwich deli.

Behold, the true colors of a heartless tycoon!

Lyra ran a kilometer down from the office, finally securing the elusive breakfast items.

Fearing his capricious nature, she grabbed an assortment from the breakfast shop just to be safe. As she returned, the morning meeting had already kicked off.

Reaching the CEO's office, she spotted the empty Americano cup and sandwich wrapper in the trash, her anger nearly making her faint.

"No time to dwell on it, she snuck into the meeting room laden with files and her ID badge, barely seated when a stern, cold voice halted her.

"Stop!"

Lyra flinched, straightening up to face a brooding Easton.

"Lyra, did you moonlight at the breakfast shop? And now you're late to meetings?"

Lyra was confounded – wasn't she just following his orders?

Fidgeting with her folder until her nails nearly snapped, she murmured an apology, "I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

Her swift admission caught Easton off guard, his frown easing slightly, "Sit down."

After what felt like an eternity, the meeting drew to a close. Lyra slumped out, only to be accosted by the secretary-general.

"Lyra, tidy yourself up. You're accompanying the boss to the Gray Group for contract talks."

"..."

Lyra sprung from her chair, teetering on the brink of insanity.

The Gray Group!!

Her ex, Damian, was the managing director there.

As a branch of the imperial business network, the company had a complex foundation. Damian appeared to be the heir apparent, but there were others coveting his position.

Damian’s affair was a calculated move to leverage the Sheridan family's influence to secure his grip on the company, especially since Lyra's father had recently announced that she would not be his successor.

That's why she had ventured out to find a job, and her relationship with Damian had started to unravel around the same time.

Easton, that sly dog, was definitely doing this on purpose!

Just last night, she had drunkenly ranted to him about Damian, relentlessly cursing her ex – he must have overheard, and now he was using it to toy with her.

" Evangeline, I..."

Before the words could escape Lyra's lips, Easton was already striding out of the office.

As he passed by her desk with a frosty detachment, he tossed a command over his shoulder, " Evangeline, quickly."

Lyra's heart sank to her shoes.

Clutching the documents Evangeline had thrust into her hands, she hurried to catch up.

Perched in the co-pilot seat of the gleaming silver Rolls-Royce Phantom, Lyra's thoughts were a whirlwind of anxiety about her impending confrontation with Damian.

Easton, ensconced in the backseat, was engrossed in his paperwork, oblivious to the world.

The car sliced through the city, halting half an hour later beneath the towering facade of Gray Group's headquarters.

Lyra followed Easton inside, flanked by his right-hand man, Zane.

The Gray Group had rolled out the red carpet, with a welcome committee stationed at the elevators. They did a double-take upon spotting Lyra.

"Mr. Blake, Gray Group is honored by your presence. I'm Damian, General Manager," a man in a sleek silver suit greeted, all smiles, never imagining that Easton, a titan of the capital's business, would seek him out personally for a partnership.

Not just him, but the whole Gray Group felt like they had something to be proud of.

Lyra nearly gagged at Damian's fawning demeanor as she stood behind Easton.

Without giving a second glance at Damian’s outstretched hand, Easton turned to Lyra, his voice devoid of warmth, "Lyra, hand Mr. Gray the files."

With a nod, Lyra stepped forward, her gaze locking with Damian's.

It was only then that he realized Lyra, whose job as a secretary he had heard of but never inquired about, was in fact Easton's aide.

"Thank you, Lyra."

Damian said with a smile, his fingers brushing hers in a fleeting touch.

A shudder ran through her, and in a reflex, she withdrew her hand so quickly that the documents scattered from Damian's grasp like leaves in the wind.

Damian's smile froze as he was about to reprimand her, but then he witnessed a chilling scene. Easton, in full view of the assembly, took Lyra's hand gently and looked down at her, his tone unexpectedly soft, "Are you hurt? Let me see your hand."

Lyra was flabbergasted.

Had Easton lost his mind? To make such a bold move in front of an audience and with her ex-boyfriend right there!

Let alone Zane's opinion, the entire room, surely knew of her past with Damian.

At that moment, Lyra wished the floor would swallow her whole.

"Mr. Blake, this..."

Damian's face twisted with confusion and a touch of betrayal.

He had never imagined that Easton and Lyra... The tenderness in Easton's eyes and voice seemed genuine.

Damian seethed inwardly, cursing Lyra for playing the innocent while allegedly having an affair with Easton right under his nose.

Lyra, her face flushed crimson, quickly retracted her hand again.

"I'm fine... Thank you for your concern, Mr. Blake! Excuse me, I need to use the restroom." The atmosphere in the meeting room was awkward and tense, Damian's hands clenched at his sides as he ground his teeth in silent fury.

"Any problem? Mr. Gray?" Easton inquired as he settled into a chair, crossing his legs with a smile that was both cold and arrogant.