How to love

two: Another gold-digger.

Frankie's point of view -

"Excuse me?"

My high-pitched squeak made him smirk in amusement. He straightens his posture and it allows me to breath again. My eyes were wide and my pulse raced. I couldn't speak, I just watched as he sauntered towards the water dispenser in the corner of the room and pours a cup, returning to hand me it.

"I don't think you misheard what I said, Miss Fields." He spoke confidently, hitching himself up to sit sideways on the table. I sip at my water, my shaking hands bringing the plastic cup back down to rest on my lap.

"I didn't - but I don't understand."

He shrugs his shoulders, opening the button of his navy suit jacket and revealing the creaseless, crisp white shirt underneath. He starts to pull on his tie, letting it loosely dangle and he starts to undo the top two buttons of his collar.

Lord have mercy.

"You seem to be a perfectionist at relationships-"

"I'm not."

His eyes narrow at my abrupt tone cutting him mid-sentence and I silently apologise.

"As I was saying," he begins carefully and my cheeks flush in embarrassment. "You seem to know what a woman wants and I clearly, well, don't. So I'm asking you too help me."

"Mr Hayes, it was never my intention to give you some sort of doubt within your relationship. I'm sure you and Miss Bennett are perfectly happy and well-matched." My tongue burned with the lies. They weren't perfectly matched, she wanted him for his money and that was clear but there was no way on this earth I could ever tell him that. "I am so very sorry. You know Miss Bennett better than what I do, and I'm appalled at myself for inter-veering. Please, don't listen to a word I say."

I knew I was rambling, but the nerves were eating at my insides like a pact of wild wolves finding their prey after being starved for weeks. I was never fortunate enough to have any time alone with Mr Hayes, he didn't even interview me all those years ago. He was simply a myth as far as I was concerned, I had only ever seen him in pictures.

"My first girlfriend," He began. "I was only sixteen, she was eighteen. I was the talk of my friends for scoring with a older girl. We only lasted two months, she dumped me after my father stopped my allowance and I couldn't take her for dinner."

Another gold-digger.

"I dated a girl before Natasha. She, again, dumped me because I had to cancel our trip to Venice because my grandmother was sick."

Is this the type he attracts?

He clears his throat quickly. "I guess money has always been the issue in all my relationships. I suppose, what I mean is - I don't know what it's like to be with someone who cares for me, and not the dollars in my bank. I don't know what a woman wants - what a real woman wants, if they don't want to be bought. Do you understand?"

I gulp and nod. My heart clenches for him.

He's always used his wealth to buy affection of these women who took him for granted.

"So," he says and rises back to his feet again. "Will you accept my offer?"

How could I possibly teach my boss - my incredibly successful, clever and drop-dead-gorgeous boss - how to love when I didn't even know what it was myself? I had never experience love aside for the love I shared for my family. I read countless books, I had watched hours of movies and even found myself waking up in the midst of the night almost sobbing over love.