His Contract Wife (Zayn Malik)

5; Negotiations and Tequila

~Mira~

"Chicá, you made it to the news." Clarisa waltzes into my room, with a broad smile on her face. Annoyed, I move to see the article she's reading.

"Zayn Malik does a favour for his 'friend'?" Zayn Malik, the CEO of Zed Industries was recently seen at a school as the guest of honour where his friend... Mira Anderson...

The article has a picture of the two of us, looking almost cozy with each other and I mentally slap myself for posing with him.

"Fuck. Just reading it is giving me a headache. I am surprised my dad's not called in yet."

It is almost like my dad heard me, because, my phone rings. I sigh, taking the phone to my ear. "Dad."

-

Never in a million had I ever thought that I'll be walking back into the Zed Industries after I outrightly had rejected Zayn's offer. I consider selling my car and then decide against it because that is not a very promising sign of independence now, is it? The crisp, serious air hits me and my posture straightens to meet up the demands of this untainted place of work. I walk up to the reception to the same bitchy blonde who squints her eyes at me in recognition.

"Where can I find, Zayn?" I ask and she raises her eyebrows at me.

"Zayn?" she probes and I immediately realise my slip up.

"Mr.Malik," I correct myself. "Where can I find, Mr.Malik?"

"Floor number twenty-two. The lift is to the-"

"The left. I know. Thanks," I say and quickly pad over to the lift. The annoying elevator music repeats itself for every floor and I find myself groaning every time it starts afresh. When the lift dings at floor twenty-two, I step out of it, looking left and right. This floor is similar to the one I had earlier been on for my interview. The theme and décor pieces scream Zayn. Elegant, pristine and dangerous. A well-dressed blonde stares at me for a minute before walking over to me.

"Ms. Anderson?" she questions and I nod, gulping a bit at her scary, domineering presence. "Mr.Malik has been waiting for you. You're ten minutes late," she informs me and walks away, shooting me a pitiful look. I frown and walk over to the room that bares Zayn's nameplate in gold. Zayn's office is separate from the rest of the floor with a sitting lounge outside his door. Before the turn into his office space, there is a station for his receptionist and to the left of the lounge, is a spacious cabinet which looks like the assistant's work station.

Through the glass doors, I can see that Zayn's on his phone and he glances up to meet with my eyes before he puts his phone and nods, motioning me inside. He moves to hit a button that unlocks the door for me. I push it open.

He then signals me to take a seat in front of him, which I do. This room has one of those ceiling-high glass walls, but this time, it is right behind him. There is another one that is to his left, making his office look like it's is hanging in the air. The only opaque side of his office houses a bar with liquor in it and another dark door that I assume is the bathroom. The furniture is dark, just like its owner.

"You haven't joined yet and you're already late, Ms. Anderson," he sternly says, bringing me back to the topic at hand and I scowl at him.

"Precisely, my point. I still don't work for you. So, chill out!"

His expression changes into a cold one and he cocks his eyebrows. "Did you just ask me to chill out, Ms. Anderson?"

I roll my eyes. "As a matter of fact, I did, Zayn."

He scowls when he hears me addressing him as Zayn. But he has to know, that I don't give a damn.

"Mr.Malik, Mira. Mr.Malik," he says through gritted teeth.