The General's offer

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This is a work of fiction. Unless otherwise indicated, all the names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents in this book are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

No part of this work may be reproduced or stored in a retrieval system or transformed in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical, or photocopying, without written permission from the author/ publisher.

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Chapter 1

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The book is under a Galatea contract, so it can't be posted for free on my wall. But I always have new stories that I am currently writing for free. Feel free to check them. Maybe you will like it :)

All the best, Mira.

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One thing that makes life in Dubai beautiful is the climate, Sarah thought as she tried to tame her long hair into a neat bun.

But not today.

Today, the humidity in the air made it as wild as a clown’s wig.

The hairband snapped, and she gave up. Being late prompted her to walk faster and forget about her hair.

It would be easier if she didn’t stop to order Aron’s favorite soup at his favorite restaurant, which was conveniently on her way. Or if she didn’t cram her arms full of bundles and papers. Not to mention the backpack with her laptop sitting in the pool of sweat on her back.

She should accept the driver’s offer to take her to work. But the day looked so beautiful, and she needed exercise. Her brother Lucius kept too many people busy helping her to lead her life. So little solitude and walking to the job could only make her feel good.

The hand with soup got too hot, so she changed it.

She worked in the Company of a family friend who happened to be one of the most influential people in this beautiful world. And on top of that, her brother’s best friend.

There was still the last intersection she had to pass; hopefully, she wouldn’t be more than fifteen minutes late. Aaron could grant her that much if she could forgive him broken dolls and sloppy kisses and love him unconditionally. He could learn to accept her nonexistent sense of time.

The gaggle of children ran beside her, and she almost spilled the soup.

″Watch out, you little monkeys,″ Sarah scolded them, stopping to balance everything in her hands.

She was a lousy cook, but she knew how to buy food.

Soraya, Sarah’s favorite person in the world, and Aaron’s aunt told her once that the road to man’s heart is through his stomach, hence the soup.

The building before her gleamed like a silver knife under the sun. There was a clock on top of it. She squinted, checking the time. It was later than she had hoped.

Prolonging her steps, she hastily entered the glass and stone construction—one of many that grow overnight in this country, screaming money wherever you turn your gaze.

The crisp, cool air hit her as she passed trought sliding doors. The receptionist, a pretty blonde named Tracy, stood up and tried to help her.

“Let me hold that for you, Miss Sarah.”

“No, no, I can manage. Please call the elevator. I’d hate to do it with my nose.” Sarah smiled at the woman showing her occupied hands and still fighting her wild hair—damn humidity.

Elevator beeped. Now only twenty floors up until she made it. What is a treacherous thirty-minute delay?

In one swift move, she turned to get in, and then everything went down the drain. Soup poured all over her fancy suit. The papers she had to deliver flew out of the bundle and lay scattered over the floor decorated with noodles. There was a piece of beef over one important speech.

The thing that had bumped into her was huge and had to be blind behind the aviator’s sunglasses. It had a big, angular, thick head and a powerful neck. In addition, he wore a black military uniform with boots. She knew that men liked military clothes. It made them look harsh and dangerous, but she thought it was ridiculous, especially in this too-hot climate where you could melt just looking outside.

He squatted beside her, and she saw his veiny hands and broad forehead.

He had a cap on top of everything. A cap!

Sarah rolled her eyes and then frowned, especially surprised that there was no trace of sweat on the man’s sunburned skin. That was unfair. He was covered from head to toe and did not sweat a drop, not even where she saw hair picking out from v neck of his black shirt.

Annoyed at this additional delay, she pushed the papers into a bundle, wiped her forehead with a damp hand, and noticed two large wet spots under her arms.

The fact that the brawny man beside her was trying to sort out her mess added to her annoyance.

“Stop it! You are not helping” She slapped his large hands, noticing clean, square-cut nails, and he politely stood up.

“I can do it myself. You have done enough. Next time watch where you are going,” Sarah scolded him.

Sweet Tracy was hovering beside them, apologizing to him on her and Sarah’s behalf, with the utmost respect.

“Um, uh, Miss Sarah is just nervous. I am sorry, Sir,’’ the girl sounded like a starstruck groupie with a lilt in her voice.

“It’s all right, my mistake. If you do not need my help, I’ll leave.”

Rudeness was not part of Sarah’s character, but now she could not help it. She dismissed him with her hand, not sparing another look in his direction. It had to be the military clothes that annoyed her. She was a pacifist; anything considering weapons or killing made her cringe.

Tracy followed the man outside and stood looking after him. Sarah touched the number twenty with her elbow, her hands full and her neat clothes ruined. She was really late now. Aaron must be pissed. The thought made her smile. She actually found his temper funny.

In ten minutes, she emerged on the CEO floor. The secretary rushed to her aid.

“He asked a dozen times did you call?’’ The woman chuckled,

“He even asked me to check did you got stuck in the toilet,” she winked at Sarah as she opened the office door and let her in. The man in question sat in a high leather chair, with his back turned to her, talking on the phone. When he saw her, he dropped the phone and stood up.

“You are late again. I can not rely on you,″ Aron approached her. His face showed more annoyance at the naughty child than actual anger. He bent down and licked her lips.

She hated it—those open, sloppy kisses.

And no matter how often she told him, he always did it.

Sarah had no problem with exchanging some body fluids, but only after dry kisses. She did not like starting with messy ones.

Leaving the papers on his desk, she brushes her mouth, and his face twists into a wide smile.

“I have done it again. I am sorry, Sarah.”

She snorted, “You are not sorry. You did that on purpose to piss me off. Let me show you what I have prepared for today.”

“I’ll look at it later or simply send it to PR. It’s late now for big changes. Let them deal with that,″ He interrupted her.

She was a little late, but her job was not writing his speeches, cute little newspaper stories, or answering his interview questions. She did it because she loved him.

Aaron had people paid to do it, but he liked how she made him more approachable and warm, so she kept doing it out of love and a little vanity. There was no greater reward than his praise.

“I had an accident. The soup spilled all over me and the papers.”

“What soup?” his eyes narrowed on her.

“Your favorite soup, I bought it at the restaurant on the way here....”

He rubbed his forehead, “When I want soup, I order it. It’s as simple as that. You are not the one who brings the soup.”

She clenched her jaw and refused to speak. Of course, Aron could order the soup if he wanted it. It was not like she was stupid. He could hire a top Michelin five-star chef to make his damn soup fresh from scratch here.

She did it out of love and care.

He could bring her soup sometimes or thank her for everything she did for him—ungrateful asshole.

“Find the speech. It’s in there somewhere,” Sarah muttered, spinning on her flat pumps and marching out of the office.

Her auburn hair flew around her shoulders as she strode across the white marble floor. The footsteps behind her grew louder, and she knew he was following her. Sometimes she fretted that this seemed like a game to him.

She refused to slow down. He called her a few more times before his steps quickened, and he caught up with her somewhere between the restroom and one of the conference rooms and pushed her inside.

A little disoriented, she squealed, sensing his mouth on hers and his hands all over her body through the thin summer clothes.

″Come on,’’ he murmured between kisses, ‘you know how important you are to me.’

She fidgeted under his ruff fingers as she returned his kisses, glancing nervously over his shoulder.

This was too much for her. Making out in the middle of a workday, in the most inappropriate place, the office.

“Someone’s going to catch us, and then you’ll have to marry me,” she teased him as she felt his hands on her breasts. He froze for a moment and let her go. A little too hastily, Aaron stepped backward and smoothed his expensive suit.

The movement surprised her, and she felt cheap as if the thought of marrying her was terrifying.

“When will we announce our engagement?” She asked, watching his face.

″Soon.″

A/N

This book can be read as a standalone. The first part is The Millionaire offer she can’t refuse. I recommend reading it before or after :) Or not at all :) As you wish.

01.05.2023 :) starting DATE or 05.01 2023, depending on where you are :)